The mirror, and those beside it, shattered on impact. Its noise filled the attic completely with shrill auditory assault of cascading glass, so much glass, a room full of broken glass. Where there had been a dozen faces staring back at Danae, now there were a thousand, and it was impossible that the crash had not awoken the entire asylum.<br/><br/>No answer from the orderlies came. The time for explanation had passed with that one outburst. One woman paced within her cell, a hand to her mask, and the other drew her body in close against a secure corner.<br/><br/>And what kind of mirrors had they been? Was it worth the risk? They had seemed, at the ends of Danae's prodding fingers, to be cool and ordinary, meeting the gaze and mimicking every movement. In reflections of reflections, where the realm within a mirror took a life all its own, there were small details which demanded a second glance as irregular, a trick of the eye or reversed perspective. There was a moment, studying reflections of reflections of reflections, where the smallest facets of likeness deep inside seemed different from Danae's own heart. But now it was over, the communion of mirrors was broken, and it became a hazard to set foot in cell<em>C. </em><br/><br/>A quick search turned up no further prisoners. Cells<em>F </em>and<em>H </em>likewise contained devices for experimental treatments, retired for the night. The tub in cell<em>G </em>ran unattended.