A Corridor of Twisted Fates

"Alright, so these mirrors are clearly enchanted to mess with our heads. No one look too hard at themselves, or you might get self-conscious."

Neither Lira nor Rhea responded immediately. The illusions lingered, their horrifying implications gnawing at the corners of their minds. But they all understood that standing here was dangerous, that time was slipping away while the catacombs threatened to bury them.

Another tremor, sharper this time, rattled the glass panels, creating a discordant chiming. Dust sifted from the ceiling, making it hard to see past the swirling haze in the corridor. Rhea exhaled, pulling her gaze from her reflection as if snapping out of a trance. "We keep moving," she said, stealing the words from Mikhailis's own thoughts.