Chapter 29 – Shards of the Truth
Grey sprinted through the ravaged valley of the eastern ridge, the jagged rocks tearing at his boots and the cold mist curling like fingers around his legs. He could feel it now — a pull, unnatural, like the air itself was whispering lies. The Mirrorheart had pulsed again.
And this time, it screamed.
He hadn't yet returned to camp because the energy trail he had followed twisted into something far worse than he expected. What he once believed to be echoes from the Mirrorheart's core had turned out to be something else.
Wale's signature.
It shouldn't have been possible. Wale had never possessed the ability to bend the Mirrorheart's currents — at least, not without help. But Grey had seen the energy pattern clear as day, and in it was something terrifyingly familiar.
Deception.
He slid down the final slope and into the ravine's hollow, where mirrored obsidian walls reflected his face back at him a thousand times. Only... they didn't move when he did.
His reflections stood still.
Some blinked.
Some smiled.
Grey's breath hitched. "Wale... What the hell have you done?"
Chris was waiting at the campfire when Grey returned. Her posture was rigid, her staff laid across her lap like a drawn sword.
"You were gone a while," she said without looking up.
"I was following a trail," Grey muttered. "I found Wale's echo at the base of the ridge."
Chris finally met his gaze. "He was here. He admitted it."
Grey froze.
She stood, her voice trembling with betrayal and restrained fury. "He's not corrupted, Grey. He's orchestrating everything. The Mirrorheart listens to him now. It doesn't resist him."
Grey turned toward the fire, its flickering light casting sharp shadows across his face. He didn't answer right away.
"You knew," Chris whispered.
"No," Grey said, but it sounded like a lie even to him. "I suspected."
Chris stared, eyes widening. "You suspected... and you said nothing?"
"I couldn't prove it." Grey clenched his fists. "And I wasn't sure if it was truly him or—something using him."
Chris stepped closer. "And now?"
Now... Grey had no excuse.
Wale had left behind too many threads. And Grey had followed every one of them, never wanting to admit the truth.
Wale wasn't just a part of the darkness.
He was the heart of it.
They left camp before dawn. There was no more time for rest.
Chris had deciphered a passage from the shattered Mirror Codex — a location in the dead marshes of Nareth Hollow where the Mirrorheart's next pulse would anchor. If Wale succeeded in fully binding the Mirrorheart to himself, he would control every echo, every reflection, every truth and lie within it.
They had to reach it first.
The journey to Nareth Hollow was silent, tense. Grey occasionally caught Chris studying him from the corner of her eye — her trust shaken, but not yet broken.
They arrived as the marsh mist peeled back to reveal the ancient stone path leading into the Hollow. At its center rose a black obelisk — split, jagged, as though lightning had struck it from within.
The air shimmered around it, mirror dust clinging to invisible lines in the air like threads of a spiderweb.
Chris raised her staff. "This place isn't natural. The veil's thinner here."
Grey nodded. "Which means Wale will use it to open the fracture."
He stepped forward — and the world twisted.
In an instant, Grey was no longer beside Chris.
He was inside the mirror.
The Hollow disappeared.
He stood in a mirror-world version of it — dim, colorless, echoing.
And across from him stood Wale.
Not a reflection. The real thing.
Wale was calm, dressed in mirrored black armor that flickered with the energy of a thousand stolen echoes. His face bore no malice, only serenity.
"You came," Wale said softly.
Grey reached for his blade. "You betrayed us."
"I saved us," Wale replied. "From stagnation. From the lie of freedom."
Grey stepped forward, the false ground cracking beneath his boots. "You used us. You used her."
Wale's gaze flickered. "I gave her purpose."
"You broke her faith."
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Wale raised a hand — and the mirror realm shifted.
Hundreds of mirrored shards levitated behind him, each one showing memories: battles, conversations, the moment they first found the Mirrorheart. In each one, Wale was present — guiding, manipulating.
"You think this was accident?" Wale said. "Every step was calculated. You were all pawns — except her. Chris was the light. I needed a light strong enough to cast shadows deep enough for me to hide in."
Grey lunged — blade flashing.
But the blade passed through Wale's image.
An illusion.
The real Wale stood behind him now, whispering.
"You don't win by being the hero, Grey. You win by being inevitable."
Outside the mirror, Chris sensed the shift. Her staff thrummed violently, and she didn't wait — she slammed the base of it into the ground, cracking open the veil.
She stepped into the mirror realm.
The realm rippled as Chris entered.
Grey staggered back, cut across the shoulder from one of Wale's echo strikes. His breathing was labored, his footing unsure.
Chris didn't hesitate. She caught Grey before he fell, then turned her gaze on Wale.
He looked amused.
"Two against one?" he asked.
Chris's eyes glowed with raw energy. "You always underestimated how far we'd go to stop you."
Wale raised both hands — and the realm cracked like glass underfoot.
Mirrored beasts emerged, twisted versions of people they once knew — reflections turned to soldiers.
But Chris and Grey stood firm.
Together, they fought — blades clashing, spells burning through false memories. Every strike shattered illusions, every wound left behind silver streaks.
But Wale remained untouched.
Because Wale wasn't just using the mirror realm.
He was the mirror realm now.
And the fight was only beginning.