The Mirror’s Daughter

Amelia's heart pounded against her ribs as she stared at the opened vault beneath the monastery, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The cold stone walls seemed to close in on her, the shadows around her deepening, pressing in from all sides. She stood in the center of what felt like an ancient tomb, her hands trembling as she reached for the documents that had just been uncovered.

Records. Files. Evidence. All pointing to one undeniable truth: She was not who she thought she was. Not really.

As she sifted through the papers, the words on the pages blurred together in a haze. They spoke of a spliced Mirror code, a genetic manipulation designed to create someone with the power of transformation, someone who could serve a purpose far darker than Amelia could fathom. She wasn't just an ordinary woman. She was the result of an experiment—part of a greater plan, something far more complex and sinister.

A sharp, sick feeling curled in her stomach as she read further, her hands growing cold. She had been created for a reason. But what reason?

In the corner of the vault, her reflection flickered. It was distorted, but for a split second, Amelia thought she saw two versions of herself staring back from the mirror. Her body froze, and she spun around quickly, expecting someone to be standing behind her. There was nothing—just shadows and silence.

But the mirror didn't lie. Or so it seemed.

As she turned back to the files, her reflection in the mirror didn't follow her movements. Instead, it stood still, smiling at her. Amelia's breath caught in her throat, the blood draining from her face. She reached out a hand, fingers trembling, but the reflection—her reflection—mimicked her movement in an eerily deliberate way.

This wasn't just a hallucination. This was something far worse.

Her mind was breaking apart. The weight of the discovery, the sense of isolation, and the creeping knowledge that her entire existence had been manufactured were too much. The woman she thought she was—a person with a past, with desires, with purpose—was nothing more than a construct. She had no real memories. Only the ones Echo had given her. Only the ones she had been made to believe were hers.

Her vision blurred again as the reflection smiled wider, and the voice inside her mind whispered in a soothing, sinister tone. You were made for this, Amelia. You were made to be powerful. Powerful enough to change everything.

The sound of footsteps behind her startled Amelia, snapping her from her reverie. She whirled around, and there stood Dominic. His face was unreadable, cold—an impenetrable mask that hid everything. He had been watching her for some time, but neither of them had acknowledged the tension that crackled in the air.

"I see you've discovered the truth," he said, his voice low, almost devoid of emotion.

Amelia's stomach twisted. She wanted to scream at him, to ask why—why he hadn't told her, why he'd let her live in this illusion. But instead, her voice caught in her throat.

"How long?" she finally managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

"How long have I known? Or how long have you known?" Dominic countered, his eyes narrowing. "I didn't create you, Amelia. But I was part of this. And now you're discovering the consequences. You're seeing the truth about yourself. About everything."

"I'm not real," she said, her voice breaking. The thought of it hit her like a wave, crashing over her and leaving her gasping for air. "I was made. A part of some experiment. A... project."

Dominic's face softened for the briefest of moments. But then he looked at her with something else—something darker, something dangerous. "We were all part of this. You think you're the only one with blood on their hands? You think I didn't know what I was getting into? This was never about us. It was never about you."

Amelia felt a wave of betrayal wash over her, but it wasn't just directed at him—it was at everything. At herself. At the life she thought she'd been building. What was she now? Nothing more than a pawn, a player in someone else's game.

She turned away from him, feeling the weight of the mirror's gaze on her. It wasn't her reflection that made her uneasy—it was the fact that she couldn't control what was happening to her. The lines between who she had been and who she was now were blurring. The walls were closing in again, the mirrors mocking her, showing two different versions of herself, the one she'd been before and the one she was becoming.

Dominic took a step closer. "You're still you, Amelia. You're still here. But Echo…" He trailed off, eyes darkening as he stepped forward, his hand almost touching her arm.

Amelia flinched at his proximity, her heart racing. "Don't touch me."

He stepped back, but there was no apology, no regret in his eyes—only a cold calculation, a distance that had never been there before.

This was a man who had already decided what his next move would be. And she was no longer sure she wanted to be part of it.

"You can't escape what you are," Dominic said quietly. "Not anymore."

Her eyes met his, full of defiance. "Watch me."

Before he could respond, the sound of a door creaking open interrupted them. Kestrel stood in the doorway, his eyes flicking between them with a tension that almost crackled. The air between the three of them had always been thick, but now it was suffocating.

"Amelia," Kestrel said, his voice tinged with concern. "You need to leave this place. All of us do. The secrets in this vault—whatever they've revealed—will only destroy you further. It's time to walk away."

Dominic looked at him with a raised brow. "And you're going to stop me? Stop her?"

"I'm not stopping anyone," Kestrel shot back, his voice low and controlled. "But I will make sure Amelia doesn't make a decision she can't take back."

Amelia didn't look at either of them as she walked toward the door. Her steps were slow, deliberate. It didn't matter what they thought. It didn't matter what they did. She was done being controlled.

And yet… the whispers of Echo were still there. Still pulling at the edges of her mind. Still waiting to take over.

In the distance, the mirrors flickered again.

As she reached the doorway, a voice inside her head, far too familiar, echoed in the silence.

Amelia... you've made a choice. You are mine now.

She shuddered, but kept moving forward.

There was no turning back.