[h1][i][color=7ea7d8]Mason Crawford[/color][/i][/h1][hr]Mason stared at the mirror for a while. The dormitory was empty, save for himself; Harmon was probably finding some way to entertain himself. Regardless, this suited Mason... He needed to concentrate, and some solitude would aid that - not that Harmon was ever particularly distracting, of course. The two had been getting along well. 

But still, the mirror called to him. It seemed to sing out in vibrations only he could here, humming enticingly. He glanced at the crumpled paper in his hand, Professor Tarblatt's diagrams scrawled across it in black ink. He looked back at the mirror. It all seemed to make so much sense... Perhaps it was Mason's creative mind, but as absurd as it seemed, he actually felt like it could work. And if it did... Well, that certainly opened a lot of new opportunities for Mason. 

He drew a deep breath and rose to his feet, approaching the mirror with an air of apprehension. He stood before it for a moment, simply breathing and focussing on what Ruben had told him. He swallowed, and pushed forward through the glass, entering into the black abyss he was becoming familiar with. According to Tarblatt, if he ventured out into the blackness... He might just find other mirrors, other ports of entry back into reality. 

He shivered. It was always cold here, and he wrapped his arms around himself for warmth as he began to step away from the mirror he had passed through. He was nervous at first, with no visible floor or walls it felt almost as though he could fall into the nothingness at any given moment. But it felt solid, and the more steps he took the more comfortable he became in pressing on. Further and further into the darkness, he kept walking, straining to see a square of light like the one he had used to get here amongst all the black. 

But that's all it was... Black. Just black. Endless, nondescript [i]black[/i]. Mason began to realise that perhaps Ruben had not known as much about all this "pocket dimension" schtick as he thought. Or perhaps Mason was the problem, maybe he was doing something wrong... Regardless, it was clearly not working. Mason had lost track of how long he had been walking, but there was not a mirror in sight. He sighed, and turned back on himself.

He stopped. He couldn't see the mirror. 

'[i]Must be this way,[/i]' he thought to himself, reassuringly. '[i]This is the way I came.[/i]' And so he continued, walking at a much faster pace in his eagerness to get back to reality. But something wasn't right... He kept walking, but it still wasn't there. There was no sign of the mirror. Mason began to panic. 'Maybe it's this way,' he thought, more in desperation than any actual reasoning. He ran to his left. Nothing. He sprinted back in the opposite direction. Nothing.

Overcome with dread, Mason began to hyperventilate. His breathing was sharp and violent. He was the calm and collected one in situations of disaster. He was always the one who knew what to do. But in this instance, he had absolutely no idea. The thought terrified him almost as much as the prospect of being trapped here.

He continued running in all directions, desperately hoping to see the faintest trace of the mirror amongst the abyss. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he began to realise it was no use. 

"[color=7ea7d8]Hello?![/color]" he pleaded, his voice echoing through the void. "[color=7ea7d8]Somebody, please! [i][b]HELP ME![/b][/i][/color]"

But no one could hear him.