The image cries. The mirror's face, writhing in agony, twists and turns, its glass flesh melting off of its brass skeleton. Dripping down is a clear and transparent blood, soaking the ground and forming a puddle. The image screams, unable to contain the agony. Rain stains the image, rendering it chilled to the core. Slowly, the glass solidifies and the image stops screaming, but the pain only grows. Fissure-like fractures in the solidifying glass grow deeper and infect the mirror's face until at last, rife with cracks, the deformed mirror shatters and the image it held is obliterated.
The mirror is dead.
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