Ghostlake didn't shimmer like water.
It didn't ripple.
It just reflected—perfectly, hauntingly—like a polished mirror laid over the earth. No breeze, no birds, no scent of decay. Just that eerie silver surface, cold and still, hiding what slept below.
Raen stood at its shore with Nira and Talin beside him.
"This is worse than I imagined," Nira muttered. "There's no natural movement. Whatever's down there is pressing upward, like it's watching us."
Talin unslung his hooked twin blades. "So how do we dive without drowning or going insane?"
Raen knelt and placed his palm on the water.
The surface rippled, not from touch—but from recognition.
A voice echoed softly in his head.
> "Home."
Raen's eyes sharpened. "It knows me."
Nira activated a breathing seal, pressing runes onto all three of their necks. "Ten minutes of air. After that, hope your instincts are better than mine."
Raen led them in.
One step… two…
And the surface swallowed them.
---
🌊 Beneath the Ghostlake
They descended into drowned ruins, the buildings oddly preserved by layers of whisper-static. Everything gleamed with unnatural clarity, like memories trapped in glass. Statues of warriors stood frozen mid-strike. Glyphs floated through the water like drifting leaves.
Raen's foot touched the steps of a sunken temple.
The Veinblade pulsed faintly under his cloak.
> "This is where he broke."
Images flared in Raen's mind—
A battle. A scream. A Whisper God being dragged into the lake, sealed in a blade it never forged.
Then: a massive circular mirror chamber, its doors now cracked.
"That's the shard site," Nira said through the seal-link. "And something huge is moving inside it."
They entered slowly.
Inside, the floor was made of mirror-water, and the walls shimmered with reflected memories. Not theirs.
Raen paused.
In the mirrors, he saw himself—but older. Eyes colder. Mouth twisted in fury.
This version of him held the Veinblade without seal, without hesitation.
> "He's wearing my face," Raen said.
Talin glanced at another mirror. "I don't see anything. Just water."
Nira stared at a third wall. "I see… my father. But he's speaking a language I've never heard."
Raen turned sharply. "This chamber's reflection is alive. It's showing us false pasts. Twisted futures. Doubt."
From the center of the floor, a low growl echoed.
The shard had awakened.
But it wasn't a beast this time.
It was a reflection.
A perfect copy of Raen stepped from the mirrored floor—Veinblade in hand, smirking.
It tilted its head. "You keep holding me back. That's why they'll die."
Raen stepped forward, unsheathing his blade. "You're not me."
The copy raised its sword.
"Not yet."
---
⚔️ Mirror Duel Begins
The chamber surged with echo-pressure as Raen clashed blades with his own reflection—every strike identical, every move anticipated. For the first time, he wasn't outmatched by skill—but by his own doubts.
Talin tried to intervene—only to be trapped in a false memory, reliving his exile.
Nira screamed as her runes distorted, showing her mother's death again and again.
Raen realized: The shard wasn't just creating illusions.
It was feeding on who they were.
> "Fight without certainty," the reflection mocked. "And die without identity."
Raen roared back:
> "Then I'll fight for who I don't want to become!"
He dropped into a stance he didn't recognize—
but his body remembered.
Whisper Form: Unwritten Stroke.
One cut.
A memory severed.
The reflection shattered—blowing apart like glass in slow motion.
The chamber calmed. Water stilled.
The shard core floated upward, dim and dormant once more.
Raen collapsed to one knee.
Nira helped him up. "You won."
Raen looked into the water… and saw nothing.
Not himself.
Not a future.
Just stillness.
"Not yet," he whispered. "But it's getting harder."
---