Detective Eliza

Puzzle of the Phantom Reflection

"It began a month ago," Ms. Lydia's voice trembled, her pale fingers touching the cold surface of the mirror. "Every mirror in the house... they refuse to acknowledge my existence."

Robert, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps a trick of the light, or maybe the mirrors have aged and lost their reflectivity?"

But Martha, noticing a pattern in the mirrors, pointed out, "Look, each one has the same smudged outline, almost as if someone tried to erase Ms. Lydia's presence."

Ms. Lydia, tears forming in her eyes, led them to a grand ballroom. "Here," she gestured to a massive ornate mirror, "this is where it all started. This was my ancestors' prized possession."

Eliza approached the mirror, her every sense heightened. Suddenly, she felt a cold breeze, and the candles around the room flickered. The reflection showed a grand ball from a different era. A younger Ms. Lydia danced with a suitor, their movements ghostly and ethereal.

Breaking the trance, Ms. Lydia whispered, her voice laced with pain and regret, "A family curse, born out of jealousy and heartbreak."

Robert, his analytical brain piecing together the mystery, asked, "What exactly happened, Ms. Lydia?"

She hesitated, her face a mask of sorrow, "A tale of love, betrayal, and a choice that has haunted my family for generations."

Martha, her empathy evident, gently probed, "We can't help if we don't know the whole story."

Taking a deep breath, Ms. Lydia began her tale, pulling the listeners into a vortex of the past, promising revelations that would shake the very foundation of the mystery.

The Phantom's Trail

As Ms. Lydia recounted her tale, the ballroom seemed to reverberate with the echoes of yesteryears. She spoke of a love triangle involving her younger self, a man she deeply loved named William, and her own sister, Clara.

Their family, wealthy and influential, had always placed great importance on status. William, an aspiring artist with little wealth, was deemed unsuitable for either of the sisters. However, both Lydia and Clara found themselves entranced by his charm. With a voice dripping with sorrow, Lydia spoke of how she had witnessed, through this very mirror, William proposing to Clara. Heartbroken and overwhelmed with jealousy, she turned to dark arts to cast a curse ensuring that neither she nor her descendants would ever see their reflections again, symbolizing the invisibility she felt in William's eyes.

The room grew cold as Lydia's voice faltered. The weight of her choices, made in the rashness of youth, pressed heavily on her now. "The curse was meant for me," she whispered, "but it appears to be growing stronger with time, now affecting even inanimate objects."

Robert, eyes flitting over his equipment readings, interjected, "There's a strong energy source here, possibly anchored to an object. If we find it, we might be able to understand, or even reverse, the curse."

Eliza, ever the investigator, responded, "Let's start where it all began." She approached the grand mirror, closely inspecting its ornate frame.

Martha, always alert, suddenly exclaimed, "The mirrors... they're not just reflecting the past. They're portals!" As she spoke, the grand mirror's surface rippled, revealing a hidden chamber behind it.

Inside, they found a treasure trove of artifacts from the family's storied history. At the center, on a pedestal, lay an ornate silver comb, radiating an otherworldly aura. Engraved on its handle was the image of a broken heart.

"Could this be the anchor?" Martha pondered aloud.

Eliza delicately picked up the comb, feeling a rush of emotions not her own. Anguish, love, jealousy—all intertwined. "This was yours," she stated, turning towards Ms. Lydia.