**Kelly Thompson's POV**
The Mirror City is a labyrinth of lies.
Its spires are needles of polished obsidian, their surfaces reflecting not the sky, but fragments of our past—Eden’s laughter, Veyd’s smirk, Lumi’s silver scars. The streets are paved with shards of glass that chime like wind chimes in a storm. Jara walks beside me, her limp less pronounced now, the silver flower tucked into her bandages glowing faintly. The shadow inside me is restless, its hunger sharpened by the city’s resonant hum.
**“This place feels alive,”** Jara mutters, her rifle scanning the reflections. **“Like it’s watching us.”**
The shadow stirs. *It is. And it’s hungry.*
A figure steps from a mirror—a man in tattered Verse armor, his face obscured by a mask of liquid mercury.
**“Welcome, Stormbearer,”** he says, his voice layered with static. **“The Veil has been waiting.”**
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### **The Keeper of Reflections**