Reflections of the heart

Chapter 9:

Reflections of the Heart

Lila stepped through the glowing mirror, bracing herself for the disorienting shift of worlds. The hall of illusions disappeared, replaced by the familiar darkness of the first mirrored chamber. The air was thick with magic, humming against her skin like a silent warning. The full moon shone dimly through the warped reflections, its silver glow casting eerie patterns along the polished floor.

She exhaled, grounding herself. The knowledge that Caelan was still trapped behind the glass clawed at her thoughts. He was so close—she had seen him, spoken to him—but the weight of his imprisonment remained. And now, there was something else. Something deeper.

Her pulse still raced from the moment their connection had solidified. When he had called her name with that flicker of hope. When his voice had softened, filled with something she didn't dare put a name to. She wasn't sure when the shift had happened, when her determination to save him had become more than just duty. But now, standing here, she felt it.

Shaking herself, she focused on the task at hand.

The witch.

She paced, trying to remember the details from her grandmother's book. The memory was hazy, buried beneath layers of forgotten lessons and old ink.

"Some magic is written in stone, some in blood, but the oldest magic is written in the bones of time itself. And she knows its language better than any."

Lila pressed her fingers to her temples. There had been a name. A warning, too.

"Seek her only if you have no other choice, for she does not deal in kindness—only in cost."

Her stomach tightened. What price would she have to pay?

She turned back to the mirror, where Caelan's reflection had once flickered. "Caelan?" she whispered, hoping against reason that he could still hear her.

Silence.

Then, faintly: "Lila."

Her breath hitched. "I think I know who can break the curse. A witch—one my grandmother wrote about."

A pause. Then, "What kind of witch?"

Lila hesitated. "An old one. The kind people don't speak of lightly."

She expected him to object, but instead, he sighed. "I should have known."

"What do you mean?"

"Varos's magic isn't the kind that fades with time. It's woven into fate itself. If your grandmother knew of someone who can undo it, then she's not just any witch." His voice darkened. "She's a weaver."

The word sent a chill down Lila's spine. She had read about them—magic wielders who could pull at the threads of destiny itself. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

And yet, she had no other choice.

"Then I need to find her," she said.

"Lila." His voice was quiet, but there was something raw beneath it. "Be careful."

Her heart clenched. "I will."

With one last look at the mirror, she turned and left the chamber, stepping back into the world beyond.

---

Lila moved quickly through the darkened ruins outside the mirrored hall. The moonlight cast long shadows, stretching over the crumbling stone and wild overgrowth. She knew where she needed to go—the hidden library in her grandmother's old estate. If there was anything more about the weaver, it would be there.

As she walked, her thoughts kept circling back to Caelan. The images in the mirrors had shown pieces of his past, but not all of it. He had been a boy once, innocent and unburdened. Then something had changed. He had made a choice—one that had led him here.

What had he done?

Lila shook her head. It didn't matter. Whatever mistakes he had made, he didn't deserve to be trapped in a cage of reflections.

Her chest tightened at the thought of his silver eyes watching her, filled with something unspoken.

She wanted to save him. Not just because she had promised, but because she couldn't stand the idea of losing him.

She pushed the thought away as she reached the estate. The library was hidden behind layers of dust and forgotten time, the old wooden doors creaking as she pushed them open. The scent of aged parchment filled the air, mixed with the faint traces of candle wax and dried herbs.

Lila wasted no time, moving to the farthest shelves where her grandmother had kept the books on forbidden magic. Her fingers traced the spines until she found it—an old, leather-bound tome, the edges worn from years of handling.

She flipped through the pages until she found the passage she was looking for.

"The Weavers of Fate are neither good nor evil. They are simply the hands that untangle destiny's threads. But to seek their aid is to offer something in return. Beware, for what is given cannot be undone."

Lila swallowed hard.

Further down, a name was scrawled in faded ink.

Elaris.

Beneath it, a set of instructions.

"She dwells where the river runs dark, where the trees whisper secrets to the night. Follow the path of the silver stag, and you will find her."

Lila traced the words with her fingertips, a mix of anticipation and fear curling in her stomach.

She had a name. A location. And a warning.

Taking a deep breath, she closed the book and stepped back.

She would find Elaris. She would free Caelan.

No matter the cost.

And yet, as she left the library, her mind kept returning to his voice, the way it had softened when he had spoken her name. The way her heart had ached at the thought of leaving him behind.

Lila had always been a survivor, someone who looked out for herself first. But now, everything was different.

Because now, she wasn't just fighting for freedom.

She was fighting for him.