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Издано в 2025 году.

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Аннотация

"You opened the door. Now you can't close it."

When Shirin agrees to play what seemed like a harmless paranormal game with her friend, she doesn't expect it to follow her home – or into her mind. Within 24 hours, she loses her grip on reality. Visions in mirrors. A child that never existed. A woman who demands the impossible.

Desperate and unraveling, Shirin stumbles upon Professor Shamsiddin – a man who knows more than he admits, and whose cold rationality may be the only thing keeping her tethered to sanity. But help comes at a price. Some rituals demand payment. Some doors open both ways. And some reflections… are not yours.

Set in modern-day Central Asia, Between the Mirrors is a psychological-horror novella woven with mysticism, generational echoes, and a haunting sense of what we invite in when we stop believing – and speak anyway.

Ibrokhim Rakhmatov - Limina



Chapter 1.


Transitional Phases.


"We didn't summon you here for nothing."

"A Catholic, a Jew, a Shinto priest, even a Zoroastrian… And now me? This is absurd."

"They are merely hoping for a miracle. But you—you can offer something more. A rational explanation. The kind of insight the rest of us have missed."

"But I’m no exorcist."

"You’re a metaphysicist."

"Technically… no."

The old observatory in Tokyo, a subterranean lab last used in 1948, had once again opened its doors to guests. Four individuals had gathered there today. After a brief exchange, the LED-lit corridor’s door creaked open, and two figures stepped inside.

Inside, four religious representatives already sat in solemn silence, each absorbed in their own ritual. A Catholic, a Jew, a Shintoist, and a Zoroastrian—each positioned around a circular disc, deep in their respective prayers.

The newcomers quietly took their places at the opposite end of the circle. One of them spoke:

"Per your request, we’ve prepared the lab—the lighting, the layout. I trust the conditions are adequate for the ritual."

"Adequate enough that we can’t even tell who’s sitting across from us," the second added dryly.

"Allow me to introduce: Mr. Shamsiddin, member of the Turanian Academy of Sciences, Uzbekistan. He’s here to observe the phenomenon from a scientific perspective."

No response followed. The participants remained immersed in their rites.

Shamsiddin, slightly uncomfortable with the formal introduction, focused on the figures seated around the circle. He could already identify the Catholic exorcist without difficulty. His gaze drifted with curiosity to the others. Suddenly, one of them—seated directly opposite—clapped twice.

Shintoist, Shamsiddin noted silently.

Two remained. They faced each other across the circle. The one to Shamsiddin’s right murmured something softly. The other sat with eyes closed, in complete silence.

What is he whispering? Louder… just a little louder…

In the dimly lit room, it was easier to rely on hearing. Gradually, the whispered words began to form.

Drawing on his historical and religious background, Shamsiddin carefully echoed what he heard:


"Azi drafso dareni Anxra-Mainyu. Aena o razig rah fradaram…"

What does that mean? Loyal servant of Ahriman… I summon him through the unseen passage…?

The room's aura had grown heavier, darker. Religious rituals intertwined—colliding belief systems pulling reality in opposite directions. The very atmosphere bent beneath their weight, turning dense, distorted… unsettling.


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