Chapter 26: Echoes Beneath Glass
The shards of the mirror still glinted on the floor of the Rift, scattered like the remnants of a nightmare that refused to die. Though the monster had fallen, its whispers remained, echoing faintly through the canyon walls like the dying breath of an ancient god.
Wale crouched beside the largest piece, watching his fractured reflection. Ten versions of himself stared back—some angry, some cold, some afraid. He touched the surface gently.
"There's still more," he said.
Chris knelt beside him. "How deep does this go?"
Wale didn't answer right away. Then: "Deeper than I let myself believe."
Grey remained standing, eyes scanning the strange shimmer of the Rift's depths. "Then let's not waste time. If this was just a puppet, I want to meet the hand pulling the strings."
Wale gave a bitter smile. "You will. But you won't like it."
They descended further into the Rift.
The terrain shifted subtly with every step. Rock gave way to obsidian. Roots twisted into glass. Time slowed in some places, skipped in others—like a broken film reel struggling to keep playing.
Chris saw echoes—children laughing, people dying, a city burning. None of it was real. But all of it was memory.
"Are these... visions?" she asked.
"No," Wale said. "They're records. Stored by the original mirror. It didn't just reflect—it absorbed. Every thought, every secret, every fear."
Grey scowled. "So somewhere down here, it knows us better than we know ourselves?"
"Exactly," Wale said. "And it uses what it knows to break you."
At the heart of the Rift, they found a door.
It was made of light—burning white, yet cold to the touch. Symbols moved across it like living ink. A heartbeat echoed behind it, slow and terrible.
Wale placed a hand on it.
"I made this seal," he whispered. "To trap what I couldn't destroy."
Chris stepped forward. "And now you're going to open it?"
He nodded. "Because the seal was never to protect the world from it."
He turned.
"It was to protect me from what's inside."
With that, the door began to dissolve.
They stepped through into a space that wasn't a space—an endless field of mirrors, floating in darkness. Some were cracked. Others pristine. But all were active. All were alive.
Wale winced. "This is the core. The Mirrorheart."
A figure stood in the distance—indistinct at first, like a smear of silver on ink. As they approached, it took shape.
A tall being, draped in flowing robes made of mirrored threads. Its face was a shifting collage of all their expressions.
It turned—and spoke with Wale's voice.
"Welcome home."
Chris drew her sword.
Grey raised his blade.
But Wale held up a hand.
"Let me talk to it."
The being floated forward. "You gave me form," it said. "You broke the mirror, thinking you could forget. But forgetting isn't healing. It's hiding."
Wale frowned. "I came to end this. No more games. No more echoes."
The Mirrorheart smiled. "You came to see. And now you will."
Its hand lifted—and the space exploded with light.
Memories poured from every surface.
Chris saw herself, alone in a ruined chapel, holding a dying friend.
Grey saw his past self failing to save his sister from fire.
Wale saw it all—every lie, every mistake, every time he let someone die because it was easier than choosing.
He dropped to his knees.
The Mirrorheart floated above him. "You are broken, Wale. I am your reflection made real. I am not evil—I am complete."
Chris tried to move—but the weight of her own visions pinned her down.
Grey gritted his teeth, fighting through the illusions. "This is a trick!"
"No," Wale said. "It's the truth. I just never had to look at it all at once."
The Mirrorheart extended a hand. "Merge with me. Become whole. End the cycle."
And for a moment, Wale almost took it.
But then he looked to Chris—fighting through her tears.
To Grey—gritting his teeth, still standing.
To the broken pieces of himself—cracked, but real.
"No," he said. "You're not my truth. You're my shadow. And you don't get to win."
He surged upward, blade in hand.
The Mirrorheart screamed.
And the mirrors began to shatter.
Chris and Grey broke free from their illusions, joining the fight.
The Mirrorheart struck with blinding speed, shards flying like razors.
Wale blocked, parried, dodged—each strike tearing pieces of memory from his mind. But he held on.
Grey carved through the floating mirrors, shattering illusions.
Chris struck the Mirrorheart with a divine fury, pushing it back.
Together, they fought like a storm.
And slowly, the Mirrorheart began to fracture.
As the final blow came—Wale's blade through its heart—it whispered one last time:
"Without me... you are not whole."
Wale replied, "No one ever is. But that's what makes us human."
And the Mirrorheart crumbled into dust.
Silence.
Then the mirrors around them began to collapse, one by one, until the chamber faded into black.
They stood again at the Rift's edge, the light returning, the sky above clear and real.
It was over.
Wale exhaled.
Chris smiled faintly. "You did it."
"No," Wale said. "We did."
Grey sheathed his blade. "So... what now?"
Wale looked to the horizon.
"Now, we make sure the monster never finds another mirror."