Chapter 1: Fragments in the Reflection

The dim fluorescent lights of the hospital room cast a sterile, unforgiving glow, making the girl's violet irises burn with sensitivity. Her eyes flickered open, pupils nearly translucent against the harshness, forcing her to squint and shield them. The bright fluorescents were an unbearable, constant assault, each moment stretching into an eternity. Her small frame, barely 4'11", made her seem no older than a teen, yet she felt an inexplicable weight of age she couldn't place. As she sat up abruptly, her snow-white bob shifted softly, strands drifting like wisps of frost, and she found herself staring into the mirror, confused.

An alien, unfamiliar face stared back from the mirror. Her skin, pale and almost luminous under the unforgiving lights, appeared ghostly, with veins tracing delicate blue pathways along her wrists and neck. The faint flush of pink on her lips and knuckles was the only sign of warmth in her otherwise ethereal appearance. Her features, striking yet jarring, sent a chill of recognition through her. Albinism, she thought, the word settling into her mind like a cold stone. But it offered no answers to the lingering questions: Who was she? How had she come to be here? The intense light, a constant assault due to her condition, only intensified the disorientation, making every moment a struggle against an invisible enemy.

A dizzying unfamiliarity clawed at her. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she swung her legs over the bed and stood, bare feet cool against the sterile linoleum. She winced, the hospital gown itching against her sensitive skin. She had to leave this place, this hospital that felt too foreign, too cold. She bolted for the door, her breath shallow, her pulse quickening in her chest. The hallways stretched before her like a maze, each turn a new mystery. Her bare feet slapped sharply against the linoleum, echoing in the silence, reminding her how utterly alone she was. With every step, the pain in her eyes intensified; each overhead light seared her irises, making them sting. Her vision blurred. Her albinism offered no concealment under the harsh glare. The stark contrast between her pale skin and the unforgiving lighting drew too much attention. She couldn't stay hidden.

Suddenly, a woman appeared, blocking her path. She stood 5'8" with a confident, curvy frame. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a sleek high bun, accentuating sharp features, and her piercing green eyes, framed by stylish glasses, focused on the girl with an unsettling certainty. The girl’s heart skipped a beat, and her instincts screamed to run. "Stop!" the woman called, her voice firm, her olive-green trench coat flaring slightly as she moved. The girl’s fear drove her forward. She veered down another hallway, breath ragged, the woman's relentless footsteps echoing behind her.

As the girl turned a corner, her eyes caught a strange shimmer dancing across the glass partition. The translucent, glass-like silhouette of a crystalline entity flickered to life, then vanished, only to reappear on the polished surface of a window wall ahead. The projection moved fluidly from one reflective surface to the next, chasing her with every glance, slipping through glass as if it lived within the hospital’s mirrors and panes. The girl froze, her legs trembling with fear and confusion.

"You can see my Image, Looking Glass? Only certain people can see Images. We call them Musers, and you're one of them, just like me!" the woman shouted. Her words were strange and incomprehensible, lingering in the girl’s mind like a half-formed memory. She didn’t understand, but a deep, primal part of her recognized something in the woman's conviction. It wasn’t enough to halt her flight. She turned and ran again, the chase leading her further into the hospital’s labyrinth.

Finally, the girl found herself trapped in a dead-end room. As she spun to face the door, the woman emerged from the reflective surface of a floor-to-ceiling window, stepping through it as though it were water. The girl’s breath caught in her throat as the woman’s ethereal Image followed her, an unshakable presence. The walls felt like they were closing in, and her heart pounded furiously.

In her desperation, something primal surged within her, a sudden flicker of power. The world around her warped, glitching like a corrupted data stream. Beside her, a figure emerged: unmistakably feminine, yet entirely alien, clad in a spectral white garment that shimmered with digital noise. Her silhouette was fractured, as if her presence bled through layers of chromatic aberration. Where her face should have been, a screen of glitching, multicolored static pulsed with unnatural energy, erasing identity and replacing it with digital oblivion. She stood like a broken signal brought to life: both haunting and divine, a phantom of corrupted light.

And then, a realization clicked into place. The woman’s Image, Looking Glass, phased through mirrors. The concept, impossible as it seemed, lodged itself in the girl’s reeling mind. In that moment of comprehension, her own newly manifested Image reacted, a mirror of her desperate need. Before she could question it, her body moved on its own. She phased through the wall, passing through solid matter as if it weren’t even there, a gut-wrenching lurch in her stomach the only sign of the impossible feat.

Unfortunately, her escape was short-lived. The woman caught up within seconds, blocking her path again by using the same tactic—phasing through another pane of glass to close the distance. The girl tried to push past, but the moment she moved, her legs wobbled, her body still reeling from the disorienting sensation of phasing through solid matter. She stumbled, barely catching herself before she fell, her coordination betraying her. The woman seized the opportunity, gripping her arm firmly. They struggled briefly before the woman stopped, her piercing gaze softening as she noticed the girl’s unsteadiness. Brenda's voice, though still firm, lost some of its sharp edge.

"I'm not here to hurt you," the woman said. "I'm Brenda Glass. A private investigator. I found you unconscious in an alley two days ago and brought you here. You've been out ever since."

The girl’s breath came in short gasps, the weight of the woman’s words pressing against her already fraying nerves. When asked for her name, her lips parted, but no words came. Her memory was a blank slate, a vast emptiness where her identity should have been. "I... I don't remember," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Brenda regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before nodding, a flicker of genuine understanding in her eyes. "Then I'll call you Sera," she said, a trace of warmth breaking through her stern exterior.

The name felt like a lifeline, a tiny, fragile hook in the vast emptiness. For the first time, Sera had something to cling to, even as the uncertainty gnawed at her.

What had just happened defied every known law of physics. Sera had seen the impossible. Done the impossible. And yet… none of it made sense. She didn’t know how or why. Just that it happened. The word “Image” echoed in her mind, a whisper from somewhere far deeper than memory, and then, inexplicably, a name for her own emerged. It felt strange, almost foreign, but somehow undeniably hers. “LbL,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

Brenda raised an eyebrow. “Your Image?” Sera nodded slowly, the name settling within her like it had always been there, an instinctive recognition. “My Image… it’s called Little by Little.”

Moments later, Brenda found herself in a heated exchange with Dr. Chen, the head physician overseeing Sera's case. The doctor's brow was furrowed, his voice firm. "Ms. Glass, I understand your concern, but this girl is an underaged Jane Doe. She has no identification, no next of kin. We can't simply release her to a private citizen, no matter how well-meaning. Her case falls under the purview of Child Protective Services."

"And what will CPS do, Doctor?" Brenda countered, her voice low but controlled. "Shunt her into the system? Another lost kid, swallowed by bureaucracy? With her condition, that's a recipe for disaster. She has severe amnesia, Doctor, and a unique sensitivity to light due to her albinism. A sudden, jarring change of environment could trigger severe psychological distress, even regression. She needs a stable, familiar presence, immediately."

Dr. Chen scoffed. "Her condition requires specialized medical and psychological care, which CPS can provide access to. My primary concern is the welfare of a minor, and the legal channel is CPS."

Brenda leaned forward, her eyes piercing. A flicker of something deeper, a protective instinct rarely shown, crossed her face before her usual stoicism returned. "And I'm telling you, Doctor, sending her into an unknown system puts her in more danger. I found her. I've spent the last two days with her. She's formed a fragile connection with me. Forcing her into a new, impersonal environment would be medically irresponsible. Who better to provide that than the person she already recognizes and, however faintly, trusts?"

"Trust is not a legal document," Dr. Chen retorted, "and certainly not a basis for guardianship over a child with no records." He picked up a pen, preparing to make a call. "I'm calling CPS, Ms. Glass. This discussion is over."

Brenda then played her hand, leveraging her sharp wit and professional acumen. "Doctor," she stated, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of steel, "you have my name, my license as a private investigator, and my address. You can run any background check you want, immediately. I am financially stable and fully capable of providing for her. What guarantee does CPS offer that she won't end up lost in a system, shuffled between homes, her fragile psychological state deteriorating further? You've already noted her unusual symptoms beyond standard amnesia, including her extreme light sensitivity. I am the only consistent factor, the only familiar face. If she disappears again from state custody, or if her unique condition complicates her care outside of my supervision, that falls back on your responsibility, Doctor. I am offering a solution that prioritizes the child's immediate stability and welfare, allowing for an ongoing, dedicated search for her identity that the state system simply cannot match. I am prepared to sign any temporary guardianship agreement, subject to review, to ensure she receives the stability she desperately needs."

The doctor, weighing the immediate legal and ethical complexities against Brenda's persuasive, verifiable offer, reluctantly conceded to her emergency temporary guardianship, with strict conditions for her continued care and a professional search for her origins.