The Shattered Mirror

The murmurs of the city outside my window were quieter than usual, faint whispers carried on a wind that wasn't there. The treads crisscrossing the street were apparently lower in hue, their glows dulled as if the city itself was holding its breath.

But it wasn't the city which drew my attention.

It was the mirror.

I had spent days avoiding its gaze, keeping my distance from the strange surface that now seemed more alive than any piece of glass had the right to be. I'd convinced myself it was just another anomaly in this strange place, something I could ignore until it went away.

But it hadn't gone away.

Now, as I stood before it, I realized it had been waiting for me.

The mirror's surface wasn't smooth any longer. Cracks ran across it like veins, spider-webbing across the glass and distorting my reflection. But it wasn't just cracks-it was something more. Beneath the fractured surface, I could make out movement. Shadows shifted and swirled, taking on shapes that flickered in and out of focus.

And then the surface rippled, as if it were water, not glass.

"Who am I?" I whispered, barely audible.

The mirror didn't answer. But it didn't need to.

The shadows began to take shape, forming into a figure that made my blood run cold. It was me-almost. A version of myself that seemed older, harder. His face was scarred, his eyes cold and unyielding. He stared at me with an intensity that made me want to look away, but I couldn't.

"Is this my future?" I asked, my voice shaking.

The reflection didn't answer. It merely lifted its hand, and I jerked back as the glass rippled once more.

Images crowded the surface, each one sharper and more terrible than the last.

In one, I stood atop a crumbling tower, the city in flames around me. My hands were covered in blood, and my face was expressionless. The threads of light that stitched the city together were frayed and broken, their glow extinguished.

In one, I stood amidst a throng of people, faces aglow with adoration, as I held the pocket watch aloft like a trophy and proclaimed a new order over the city. Yet, something in my eyes seemed hollow, desperate.

And then, the most disturbing image of all.

I stood alone in the void, the city nowhere to be seen. The threads of light were gone, replaced by darkness that stretched on forever. My face was a mask of despair, my body slumped as though the weight of the world had finally crushed me.

"No," I said, stepping back. "This isn't me. It can't be."

But it would give in. The pictures kept fluttering, shifting to the many kinds of my destiny. Some with hope in it, filled with victory and atonement; others pitch-black, engrossed with blood and doom.

The cracks across the surface of the mirror began to pulsate with otherworldly energy, as though the mirror had lived and breathed. And for the first time, it spoke to the reflection it showed.

"Who do you want to be?"

Any suggestions, people? I will continue the story when I get enough comments.

The question hung in the air, heavy and relentless.

"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't know who I am."

The reflection's expression softened, but only a little. "Then how can you know who you'll become?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came.

The mirror's surface rippled again, and the reflection started to change. This time, it wasn't just one version of myself-it was many. Each one was different, their faces a kaleidoscope of possibilities. Some were kind, others cruel. Some were strong, others broken.

"Every choice you make shapes you," the reflection said. "Every step you take, every word you speak-it all matters. But the question remains: who are you?"

The room seemed to close in on me, the walls pressing against my chest as I struggled to breathe.

"I don't know," I said again, my voice breaking. "I don't know!"

The mirror's cracks flared with light, and for a moment, I thought it would shatter completely. But instead, it grew still, the reflections fading until only my own face stared back at me.

But even that wasn't quite right.

My reflection looked.different. Scars were gone, coldness in its eyes replaced with something softer, and yet the edge was still there-the hint of that darkness so ready to pounce, just beyond a thin membrane beneath the skin.

"You have to choose," it said-the reflection, that was-its voice quiet this time. "The city's always watching Kael. Always.

I moved closer to the mirror, my fingers brushing against the cracked surface. It felt warm, pulsing with a life of its own.

"What if I make the wrong choice?" I asked.

The reflection smiled, a sad, knowing smile. "There are no wrong choices. Only consequences."

The words lingered in my mind long after the mirror had gone still.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the weight of the conversation pressing down on me. Every decision that I had made since arriving in this city felt magnified, as though each one weighed more than it actually did.

And then there was the question of who I was. The words of the merchant resounded in my mind, and his offer to show me my past still tempting.

What had I forgotten? And more importantly, why was it so important?

The message from the mirror couldn't be any clearer: my future wasn't written in stone. But neither was it left to fate. It was mine to shape.

The night wore on, yet I felt myself being pulled back to the mirror. The surface was still cracked, but the reflections were gone, leaving only the distorted image of my face.

I reached out to touch it once more, but this time, the glass was cold and unyielding.

The city was quiet, the threads outside my window glowing dimly in the dark.

And for the first time since I had come, I felt really alone.

The choices before me were mine to make.

But the question remained-who did I want to be?

And what would I be willing to sacrifice to find out?