Chapter 23: Echoes of the First Fracture

Chapter 23: Echoes of the First Fracture

The scent of damp stone filled Isabelle's lungs as she descended the forgotten stairwell beneath the ruined abbey. The flickering torch in her hand cast long, trembling shadows along the walls—walls carved with symbols that whispered of ages before memory. Rowan followed close behind, rifle slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning every corner. They had followed a trail of fragmented clues, old Church documents and Shatterers' records, to this hidden catacomb buried beneath a chapel long since condemned.

The deeper they went, the colder it became—not the chill of the earth, but something older, hungrier. Isabelle's fingers grazed a relief in the wall: a cracked mirror encircled by weeping eyes.

"They used to call this the Threshold Room," Rowan said, his voice low. "This is where the first fracture was recorded. Before time started looping. Before the souls began to echo."

The Threshold Room yawned before them—a circular chamber with a domed ceiling, covered in mirrored shards that reflected not only their images, but something else. In the mirrors, Isabelle didn't see herself—but dozens of other versions of her, across different eras and fates. Some were warriors, some martyrs. One was burning. One was laughing, her mouth red with blood.

She turned away, heart hammering. "These are... echoes of me?"

Rowan nodded. "These are past selves. The fracture binds your soul across timelines, looping it like a song cursed to repeat."

In the center of the chamber stood a pedestal. On it, a rusted relic: a ritual blade, and beside it, a codex bound in human skin.

Isabelle picked up the codex. Her fingers trembled. "This is the original incantation. The one they used before it failed."

Rowan looked hesitant. "You really think you're ready to try again? You saw what the last attempt cost you."

"I don't have a choice," she whispered. "Every time I die, the mirror cracks a little more. If I can shatter it first... maybe I can break the cycle."

Before they could prepare the ritual, a sound echoed through the chamber—soft, like weeping. Then the mirrors began to bleed.

Rowan swore under his breath. "It knows we're here."

From the shadows, a figure emerged. Cloaked in black and gold, eyes veiled beneath a hood—one of the Eternal Watchers. But this one... this one had Isabelle's face.

Her voice was hollow. "You don't belong here, Isabelle. None of you do. Turn back, or be shattered like all the others."

Rowan raised his weapon, but Isabelle raised a hand to stop him.

"This is the first fracture," she said, staring at her doppelgänger. "And I'm going to be the last."