Lyos Lever fell.
It felt like tumbling through icy water, the world above shrinking to a pinprick of light. Voices echoed around him-his own, Liora’s, Soren’s-all twisted together, impossible to separate. He reached for something solid, but his hands closed on nothing.
Then, with a jolt, he landed on cold stone. He stood, unsteady, in a corridor lined with mirrors. Each pane reflected a different Lyos: some younger, some older, some with eyes black as obsidian. All of them watched him with that same cold, knowing smile.
He moved forward, heart pounding, hands outstretched. The corridor stretched on forever, mirrors warping and shifting as he passed. He saw himself comforting the child in the hospital-her eyes wide with terror. He saw himself standing over a man’s body, hands stained red. He saw himself smiling, always smiling.
A voice whispered from the glass:
“Which side do you belong on, Lyos?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to wake. But when he opened them, the corridor was gone. He was in the foundation’s office, but the walls pulsed with shadow, and the windows looked out onto swirling darkness. Liora stood at the far end, her face pale and frightened.
“Lyos!” she called, her voice muffled, as if coming from underwater. “You have to come back. Don’t listen to it!”
He tried to move toward her, but the floor stretched away, the distance growing with every step. The mirrors flickered, showing scenes from his life-some real, some twisted by nightmare. In one, he smiled at the child; in another, he watched himself in the alley, face blurred, hands moving too fast to see.
“No,” Lyos whispered. “That’s not me. That’s not who I am.”
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A figure stepped from the shadows-a perfect copy of Lyos, but with eyes like polished black glass. The other Lyos smiled, wide and sharp.
“You let me in,” the reflection said. “You wanted to forget. You wanted to be free.”
Lyos backed away. “I never wanted this. I never wanted you.”
The reflection’s smile widened. “You’re broken, Lyos. I’m the piece that fills the cracks. I am what you can’t face.”
He turned and ran, the world twisting and folding in on itself. Every mirror he passed showed a new horror-a new crime, a new victim, a new smile that wasn’t his. He stumbled, fell, and landed in darkness.
In the real world, Liora gripped Lyos’s shoulders, shaking him. His eyes were open but unfocused, lips moving in silent terror.
“Lyos! Come back!” she pleaded. The air in the room was thick, charged with static. The mirror on the desk pulsed with a faint, unnatural light.
Liora remembered Mirelle’s warning: If you ever see his reflection move, cover the glass. Don’t let it see you for too long.
She grabbed the scarf, but as she reached for the mirror, Lyos’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with unnatural strength.
“Don’t,” he hissed, voice layered with something not his own. “He’s almost here.”
Liora’s heart hammered. “Lyos, fight it! Remember who you are!”
He shuddered, his grip loosening. Liora yanked the scarf over the mirror. The light in the room flickered and died.
Lyos gasped, the corridor collapsing around him. The other Lyos lunged, but the world shattered into a million shards of glass.
He tumbled through darkness, then jolted awake in his apartment, Liora kneeling over him, tears streaming down her face.
He blinked, disoriented. “Liora?”
She hugged him fiercely. “You’re back. You’re okay.”
He shook, every muscle aching. “I saw it. I saw…me. But it wasn’t me. It’s getting stronger, Liora. It said I let it in.”
She nodded, wiping her eyes. “We need to find Mirelle. We need to know what the Architect did-how to end this, before it’s too late.”
Lyos stared at the covered mirror, fear and determination warring inside him. “Next time, I might not come back.”
Liora squeezed his hand. “Then we’ll make sure there isn’t a next time.”
Outside, the city was waking, but inside, Lyos felt the chill of the mirror world lingering-a cold promise that the battle was only beginning.
