On the day of his breakup with yet another mare, Braeburn finds an eye in his bathroom mirror. Naturally, this leads to speaking to an eldritch abomination, a ritual, and... even love?

This story was written as part of a gift exchange by reviewers for the Reviewer's Mansion group, as a gift for Firefoxino.

I'm not sure what Lovecraftian fever dream induced this story, but I apologize in advance.