Chapter 26: Hall of Memories

The passage seemed to narrow and stretch at the same time, the pulsing crimson veins twisting like roots strangling the walls. The faint hum of the estate deepened into a slow, rhythmic thrum that matched the faint crackling heat still spreading through my body. Mira held me close, her arms tense, her every movement heavy with hesitation.

Her breathing was shallow, her lips barely moving as she murmured broken words into my hair. I couldn't make sense of them, but I felt the desperation in her voice, the way her tears warmed my forehead as they slid down her cheeks.

Lucien marched ahead, his sword still drawn, its blade catching the faint, pulsing light of the veins around us. He didn't look back. His shoulders were set, his focus locked on the dark stretch of passage before us. Every step he took seemed to echo louder than it should, a metallic clang that rippled unnaturally through the air.

Behind him, Charlotte followed, slower now, her injured arm hanging limply at her side. She leaned slightly on her sword with every step, her breathing uneven, her face pale. She shot Mira a glance, her expression tightening as her gaze lingered on me. Guilt flickered in her eyes before she quickly looked away.

"Lucien," Mira called, her voice cracking as she stopped in her tracks. Her legs seemed to tremble beneath her, and I felt her body shudder as she adjusted her hold on me. "How much longer? He—he can't take this much more."

Lucien didn't stop. "We're close," he muttered, his tone clipped.

"Close to what?" she snapped, her voice breaking into a sob. "To losing him? To—"

Charlotte's voice cut through, quiet but firm. "Mira. Please." She didn't finish the thought, but the weight of the unspoken words hung heavy between them.

Mira's arms tightened around me as her breathing hitched. She took a shaky step forward, her tears falling silently onto my hair. Her lips brushed my temple, and I felt her whisper more than I heard it. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

---

The passage opened suddenly, spilling us into a vast hall. Mira stopped so abruptly I felt her body jolt, her breath catching in her throat.

The space was massive, larger than anything I'd ever felt before. The walls stretched high into shadows, their surfaces lined with mirrors that gleamed faintly, reflecting distorted versions of everything. The reflections shifted unnaturally, their movements lagging behind ours or twisting into shapes that weren't quite right.

Spectral images drifted through the air—fragments of people, of places, of moments. They shimmered faintly like smoke caught in light, their edges flickering in and out of existence. The voices came next, faint whispers that overlapped into a low, constant murmur.

Mira's grip on me tightened, her breaths quickening as her head whipped around, her eyes darting from one flickering image to another. "What is this place?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Lucien's jaw was tight, his eyes scanning the room with a sharp intensity. He didn't answer her, but his grip on his sword tightened.

Charlotte stepped forward cautiously, her gaze lingering on one of the mirrors. Her reflection stared back at her, its face twisted with grief, its eyes sunken and hollow. She flinched, taking a step back, her knuckles whitening around the hilt of her blade.

"It's showing us…" she started, her voice trailing off.

"Us," Lucien finished grimly, his eyes narrowing as he stared into one of the mirrors. His reflection was warped, its edges sharp and jagged, its eyes glowing faintly with the same crimson light as the veins. His expression darkened, and he turned away sharply.

Mira kept her gaze firmly on me, refusing to look at the mirrors. She held me tighter, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the faint cracks on my arm. "We shouldn't be here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We need to turn back."

"No," Lucien said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He stepped further into the hall, his sword raised slightly as his eyes flicked toward the shifting fragments of memory. "This is part of the Trail. We're meant to see this."

Mira's lips trembled, her eyes filling with tears as she stared at his back. "And if it's too much for him?" she demanded, her voice rising. "If this place breaks him before we can—"

She stopped abruptly, her breath hitching as one of the spectral fragments floated toward us.

---

The memory coalesced in the center of the room, its edges sharpening into a clear image.

A man stood at the center, his figure tall and imposing. His dark robes billowed slightly as if caught in an invisible wind, and his eyes burned with an intensity that felt suffocating even through the memory. His voice echoed faintly, but the words were clear.

"The anchor must endure the pain, or the trail sharpens eternally."

Behind him, the walls of the estate were lined with pulsating veins, their light dim and weak. The man raised his hands, his movements deliberate, as he chanted in a language I didn't understand. The veins reacted, their light flaring brighter with every word.

Mira's body tensed, her breath quickening as she watched the scene unfold. Her arms curled tighter around me, her lips pressing against my hair as if trying to shield me from the memory.

"Who is that?" Charlotte asked quietly, her voice barely audible.

"Kael Redthorn," Lucien replied, his tone grim. His eyes never left the memory, his jaw tightening as he watched the man complete the ritual.

The memory flickered, and the man's voice grew louder. "The vessel carries the burden. The anchor bears the scars. Without sacrifice, the Trail consumes all."

Mira let out a sharp, shuddering breath, her tears spilling freely as she turned on Lucien. "Is this what you want for him?" she demanded, her voice breaking. "To suffer like this? To—"

"It's not about what I want," Lucien interrupted, his voice low but steady. His gaze flicked to her, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "It's about what's necessary."

"Necessary?" Mira's voice rose, her fury breaking through her fear. "He's a baby, Lucien! He doesn't even understand what's happening to him, and you're asking him to endure this—this nightmare?"

Lucien didn't respond immediately. His jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to me. For a moment, his mask slipped, and I saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes. But then he turned away, his expression hardening.

"We don't have a choice," he said quietly.

Mira let out a choked sob, her body trembling as she cradled me against her chest. "There's always a choice," she whispered, her voice thick with tears.

---

The mirrors around us began to crack.

The sound was sharp, echoing through the hall like shattering glass. Mira flinched, her arms curling protectively around me as the cracks spread, spidering across the surfaces of the mirrors.

Lucien raised his sword, his stance shifting as he turned toward the source of the noise. Charlotte gripped her blade tightly, her breathing quickening as the cracks deepened.

And then, from the largest mirror, something began to emerge.

The glass twisted and warped, the reflection within distorting into a dark, shadowy figure. Its form stretched unnaturally, its edges flickering like a dying flame. Slowly, it stepped out of the mirror, its movements smooth and deliberate.

It wasn't fully human. Its body was thin and elongated, its limbs bending at impossible angles. Its face was obscured, but its eyes burned with the same crimson light as the veins around us.

Lucien's grip on his sword tightened, his expression darkening.

"Mira," he said, his voice low. "Get back."

Mira didn't move. Her body was rigid, her breath shallow as she stared at the figure.

"Is that…" Charlotte started, her voice trailing off.

The shadowy figure straightened, its head tilting slightly as it regarded us. When it spoke, its voice was low and resonant, echoing through the hall.

"The anchor bends, but does it break?"

Lucien took a step forward, his sword raised. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The figure didn't answer. Instead, it took a slow, deliberate step toward us, its movements smooth and predatory. The air in the hall grew colder, the whispers from the mirrors rising into a faint, haunting chant.

Mira backed away, her arms tightening around me as her breaths came in quick, shallow gasps. Her tears fell silently as she whispered, "Please… just leave him alone…"

The figure stopped, its burning gaze locking onto me.

"The vessel falters," it said softly.

And then, the mirrors shattered.