The new path shimred in uneasy hues—deep shadow threaded with flickering violet fire. Unlike the lightning storm before, this corridor was silent. Too silent. Even their footsteps made no sound, as though the Weave itself was holding its breath.
Marra’s hand drifted toward her blade. “Why does it feel... heavy?”
Erian nodded, eyes narrowed. “Because sothing here rembers us.”
Tovin squinted. “Wait—rembers us? We’ve never been here!”
The Weave pulsed, releasing a quiet whisper that skated across their skin like cold fingers:
“This fracture reflects what was spoken... and what should never have been.”
A chill crawled up Marra’s spine. “Echoes.”
They stepped into a wide chamber ford entirely of smooth, dark glass. The walls reflected them perfectly—except the reflections did not move with them. Instead, they stood still, staring back with hollow, glowing violet eyes.
Tovin froze. “Oh no. I hate this. I hate mirror things.”
One of the silent reflections lifted its head at an impossible angle.
Erian whispered, “These aren’t mirrors... they’re mories shaped into us.”
Violet flas flickered along the walls, and one reflection—Erian’s—stepped out of the glass like liquid shadow solidifying into form.
It spoke in his voice, but warped:
“You think you can fix what you broke?”
Erian stiffened, jaw tight. “That’s not .”
Another reflection erged—Marra’s—eyes burning as it hissed:
“You left. You always leave.”
Marra flinched but stood firm. “Not anymore.”
A third figure ford—Tovin’s twisted echo—grinning too wide.
“They only keep you around because they need soone expendable.”
Tovin’s breath hitched. “Okay—rude.”
The chamber darkened as all three echoes took a step forward, movents synchronized, voices layering into a suffocating chorus:
“We are what you fear you are.”
Marra summoned her magic, but the flas sputtered uselessly.
Erian attempted to dispel them, but the echoes absorbed the spell and grew more solid.
“They feed on our denial,” he realized. “The more we refuse them, the stronger they get!”
Tovin swallowed hard. “Then... we admit it?”
Marra nodded slowly. “We face the echoes honestly.”
The reflections paused—as if unsure.
Erian stepped toward his echo, eting its burning gaze.
“I’ve made mistakes. I can’t undo them. But I’m trying to be better.”
The echo flickered, its flas dimming.
Marra approached hers. “I did leave people behind. But not because I didn’t care. Because I was scared.”
Her echo crumbled into drifting violet sparks.
Tovin took a shaking breath and approached his own reflection.
“I know I’m not the strongest. Or the smartest. But they don’t keep around out of pity. They stay because I stay.”
His echo smiled—not twisted this ti—before dissolving into shimring light.
With all three echoes gone, the violet flas around the chamber cald, turning soft and warm. A gentle hum filled the air as the Weave whispered:
“Truth untangles what fear distorts.”
A new path ford ahead—woven from silver and quiet starlight.
Erian exhaled. “That could’ve gone horribly.”
Tovin wiped his forehead. “It did go horribly.”
Marra smirked softly. “At least no one got electrocuted this ti.”
They stepped onto the new path, unaware that far behind them, deep within the reflection-glass, a fourth echo watched silently—
One none of them had noticed.
And it whispered:
“Soon.”
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