The saying goes that time isn't linear.
It's a web—a tangled mesh of glimmering threads connecting different versions of past and future. And at the center of this cosmic web lies a will, an ancient consciousness, watching... waiting.
Tonight, that eye blinked open.
—
Lin Ruoqing found herself once again in that dream.
She stood in a wedding gown, the hem stained crimson. Her bouquet bled from the stems. A priest chanted incomprehensible incantations, their tones echoing like bells ringing in reverse. Around her, mirrors lined the chamber, all reflecting a version of her that wasn't quite... her.
One reflection raised its head and smiled with twisted affection. Her lips moved in silent mockery.
Then—
Crash.
The mirror shattered. Silvered shards sprayed forward, one slicing across Ruoqing's neck.
"Ruoqing!"
She shot upright in bed, gasping. Sweat soaked her skin, and her heart galloped like a cornered animal. Murdoch was already by her side, arms locking around her, pulling her away from the dark tide of the nightmare.
"Again?" he asked quietly.
She nodded, breath still ragged. "It's her. The other me. She's... stronger now. The dream is becoming real."
Murdoch's eyes darkened, glowing faintly red in the shadows. "She's trying to take over."
"She wants me to become her," Ruoqing said softly.
He brushed his fingers against her cheek. "Then we use her instead."
Their next step was to find the Palace of Mirrors—the sacred, cursed place where the first time fracture had ever occurred, long before the Dark Altar was constructed. Legends whispered that within the palace lay fragments of the Shattered Contract, an ancient ritual once created by priestesses to seal vampiric entities across timelines.
If they could locate it, they might reverse the bleed between selves. Maybe... they could lock the Other Ruoqing back into the mirror world forever.
But the palace was lost to time.
Until the Other Ruoqing murmured one name with eerie certainty: The Sunken Forest.
The Sunken Forest lay at the fringe of the Shadow Realm, a place that cyclically submerged itself beneath the Lake of Time. Each time it resurfaced, its location shifted—its laws of space distorted.
Together, Murdoch, Lin Ruoqing, and the mirrored Ruoqing journeyed into the forest. With each step deeper, reality trembled. Sometimes, Ruoqing caught glimpses of herself—past selves laughing, dying, falling in love... or murdering Murdoch in cold blood.
"Afraid?" he asked, catching her wrist as a flickering illusion passed them.
She stared forward. "Terrified. But I won't stop."
A small smile touched his lips. "That's the you I know."
—
At the heart of the forest, they found it.
A vast silver lake, eerily still, lay nestled beneath a canopy of skeletal trees. The surface was not water—it reflected no sky. Instead, it held a mirror to another world. A world of glass walls and red moonlight.
The Palace of Mirrors.
Before they could cross, Murdoch stopped and turned to her.
"If something happens to me... destroy the time seal. Even if it means killing me."
Ruoqing's breath caught. "Don't say that."
"You'll need to choose. He'll force you."
"I've already chosen," she growled. "And I choose you."
He didn't speak. He only kissed her—swift, desperate—and then pulled her into the rift.
—
The palace was a maze made of glass.
Mirrors stretched for miles, reflecting infinite versions of them—Ruoqings and Murdochs that smiled, wept, fought, died, or stared back with hollowed-out eyes.
Reality blurred.
Then came the voice.
"Welcome home, my bride."
Lysander stepped through a mirrored frame, wearing white ceremonial robes, streaked with crimson. In his hand: a ring, still wet with blood.
"It's time," he said softly. "The ceremony must resume."
Ruoqing stood tall. "You can't force me."
"But you are already her," Lysander murmured. "That day, you gave me your heart. I've come only to collect it."