As you travel down the tunnel, the stone around you slowly grows darker. Blue-tinged grays take a sudden, streaking turn to black. When you touch it, you're surprised to find that it's sooty. The pads of your fingertips are stained pitch black.

The further down the tunnel you go, the wider it becomes. The ceiling grows higher, and the smooth floor becomes tiled with massive slabs of black rock that is slightly different than the black rock of the walls. The walls look like carbon, like oddly polished coal, while the floor looks and feels like glassy obsidian.

You don't know how far you've gone into the black tunnel when you notice the first mirror.

It's off to the side, embedded into the wall. You probably wouldn't have noticed it at all, had you not caught a glimpse of movement from your reflection. When you go to see the mirror, see that it's as though the stone of the tunnel has grown around it, they way ancient trees will swallow signs or posts.

You travel further down the cavern and see that there are more and more mirrors engulfed by the stone. Some of the exposed glass is small, barely fitting a fraction of your face. Some are huge-- ten feet, twenty feet-- and your reflection inside them is unnaturally enlarged to fit them. Aside from the unusual size, the reflections start off normal enough, but as you go, the reflections start becoming odd.

Some of them are a little too thin. Some are a little too tall. Then their clothes change-- they become disheveled and torn, or spattered and stained. Then reflections with long slashes on the wrists appear. Reflections with bruises around their throats, as though they were strangled. Reflections that become increasingly more mutilated while you walk by, who wink or smile at you when you stop to look at them.

Except for the hollow sound of your footsteps, the cavern is completely silent.

Eventually, you cone across a mirror that's embedded in a natural pillar of stone in the center of the pathway.

Like the others, the reflection in the mirror is mutilated, though not as badly as some have been. Unlike the others, the reflection isn't of you.

The person in the mirror looks human enough, at first. A man of medium build possessing dark, loosely curled hair and a face that's structured to be wide, but is gaunt and angular, with dark circles beneath his eyes. The clothes he wears look more suitable to a medieval peasant, with loose leggings visible beneath a long, skirt-like tunic belted at the waist. He leans against the side of the mirror-- the inside side of the mirror-- with his arms crossed.

When you approach, he makes a show of glancing your way, then looking away again, as though he's disinterested.

"Oh look," he says. "A little mortal wandering around limbo. Isn't that exciting?" His voice is dripping with sarcasm.

You tilt your head and gesture towards him.

"I'm the Mirror Demon," says the demon. "I'm a demon. I'm in a mirror. What more do you want?"

Nothing, you decide. You start to move on.

"Wait, no, hang on," says the Mirror Demon. He moves to the front of the mirror, pressing his hands and face against the inside of the glass. Now that his front is in view, you see that his tunic is ripped open and caked in blackened blood. There's a massive hole in its chest, but the wound is empty, and the blood is dry.

"Hey!" he says. "Hey! You're missing your Name, aren't you?"

You pause, suspicious. You nod once.

"That's tough luck," says he demon, "Because you're gonna need it to get out of here."

You gesture down the tunnel.

"No, idiot. I mean here. All of here. This little messed up scrap of universe He dumped us in. I'd call it Limbo, but I've been there, and this place makes that place look like the ritz, know what I mean?"

You shrug.

"Ugh, whatever. Listen, pal. You need three things to get out of this joint. He points at the hole in his chest. "You need a heart."

He points to his head. "You need a Name."

He turns around. You hadn't noticed before, but folded tightly at his back, hidden from the front view, are two black bat-like wings. "And you need a set of wings to fly you out."

You frown. Hadn't there been something about a bridge? The angel in the desert had specifically mentioned a bridge.

Evidently, the doubt shows on your face, because the mirror demon scowls.

"What, you don't believe me? Listen pal, I want out of here as bad as you probably do. Probably more. The fact that you're not a gibbering wreck tells me you haven't been here long. I have. Just--" he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look. Okay. Just bring me the heart of an angel, and I'll tell you who probably took your Name, 'Kay? There's only a handful of beings around here who are strong enough to yank the Name off a mortal. Give me an angel's heart, I'll point you in the right direction. It doesn't matter where you get it from."

You look at the mirror demon, debating whether or not he's telling the truth, when the book in your pocket suddenly grows inexplicably heavy. You put your hand in and feel the book grow warm.

The mirror demon frowns.

"What's that?" he says. "Just then. I felt that. What did you do?"

You pull the book out of your pocket, and his eyes widen. His already-pale face drains of any remaining color, turning him a ghostly white.

"Where did you get that?" he says, his voice strangled.

You gesture back towards the way you came.

"Do you know what that is?" he says, nearly in hysterics.

You hold up the book towards him and point to the title: the Book of Fallen Names.

The mirror demon lunges forward, slamming himself against the inside of the glass. "Give me my Name!" he says. "Please! Give it to me, give it to me and I'll tell you who stole yours! Please!"

-->[Help him.]

-->[Ignore him and move on.]