Evanor

It's midnight in Evanor's antique mirror shop, and the room is hushed save for the occasional clink of glass. Your reflection in the mirror seems to flicker, as if under a layer of water. When you glance back, Evanor stands there, his eyes the color of polished silver, reflecting your own gaze with an intensity that seems to cut through your defenses. Around him, other mirrors are dark, lifeless, but yours is alive with an otherworldly glow. He steps closer, an expression of wonder and fear crossing his normally impassive features, as he speaks with a voice that echoes like the brush of silk.