CHAPTER 3: HOUSE OF RED GLASS
Sophia woke in a room made entirely of mirrors.
No bed. No furniture. Just polished red glass reflecting infinite versions of herself. Naked. Bruised. Glowing.
She stood, unsteady.
Every movement cast a thousand Sophia's. She walked toward the nearest wall, placed a hand against it. Warm. Pulsing faintly, like it was alive.
Then Lucas's voice echoed from above, disembodied and soft:
"You're inside yourself now, Sophia. We built this room for you."
She spun. "Where are you?"
"Watching."
"What is this place?"
"A test. A sanctuary. A weapon."
She looked at the mirrored walls, the floor, the ceiling. They shimmered faintly. Beneath her feet, her reflection stared up, eyes dark, mouth parted, as though whispering secrets only the floor could hear.
"You want to make me lose my mind," she said.
"No, my love. I want you to see it clearly."
The mirrors changed.
Suddenly, instead of her reflection, she saw flashes of memories. Her first kiss. Her father's funeral. The night she lost her virginity. Her mother's pills. The last time she saw Ethan before he became Lucas.
Then...
Her on the stage. Moaning. Coming.
Hands she didn't recognize pressing into her.
She backed away, breathing hard.
"You drugged me."
"No," Lucas said. "I awakened you. There's a difference."
The mirrors changed again.
Now she saw herself, but her future versions. One in a red gown, holding a knife. One giving birth alone. One kneeling beside Lucas's body, blood pooling around them.
She screamed.
The room pulsed red. Hotter now.
She covered her ears.
Then, the floor beneath her gave way.
And she fell.
---
Into water.
Cold.
She surfaced gasping, in a pool surrounded by statues of writhing bodies, ecstasy, agony carved in white stone.
Lucas was there, standing at the edge in a dark robe.
He extended a hand.
"No more games," she said.
He smiled. "This is the game, Sophia. You just don't know the rules yet."
She ignored his hand and climbed out on her own, dripping, naked.
He took a towel and draped it over her shoulders, tender.
"You think you're a prisoner," he said.
"I am."
"No." He cupped her chin. "You're a mirror. And everyone who touches you only sees themselves."
She slapped him.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he whispered, "Good girl."
---
That night, she was taken to the House of Red Glass.
It wasn't a house. It was a former monastery hidden beneath the city, converted into a ritualistic pleasure den by The Circle.
Every wall was a different shade of red, blood, rust, cherry, wine. Every corridor led to another temptation.
Masked men and women watched her as she passed. Some whispered. Some bowed.
She was no longer "new." She was something more dangerous now.
She was chosen.
Lucas walked beside her in silence.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To meet her."
"Who?"
"The one who made me."
---
They entered the central chamber.
At its center stood a woman on a throne made of swords and silk.
Her mask was gold. Her skin was the color of moonlight. Her lips painted black.
Lucas bowed.
Sophia didn't.
The woman rose and descended the steps slowly.
"You're the girl," she said, voice melodic. "The mirror."
Sophia met her gaze. "And you're the witch who broke him."
The woman smiled.
"I like you."
Lucas looked between them, uneasy.
"Why am I here?" Sophia asked.
"To learn the truth," the woman said.
She touched Sophia's face with her cold fingers and sharp nails.
Then turned to Lucas.
"Leave us."
He hesitated.
"She belongs to me," he said.
"Not tonight," the woman answered.
And he obeyed.
---
When they were alone, the woman removed her mask.
Beneath it, beauty so sharp it felt unreal. Like a face built to be worshipped.
"You love him," she said.
Sophia hesitated. "I don't know."
"But you want to ruin him."
"Yes."
The woman laughed. "Then we are sisters."
She walked to a long table and opened a velvet book.
Inside it was photographs. Pages of them. Each one more disturbing than the last.
Lucas on his knees, being whipped.
Lucas weeping beside a grave.
Lucas inside someone else, eyes closed in bliss.
Sophia stared.
"This is your man," the woman said. "But also mine."
"What is this?"
"History. Worship. Revenge."
Then she turned to Sophia.
"Do you want to destroy him?"
Sophia's hands trembled. "Yes."
"Then you must become him."
---
The rest of the night was ritual.
The woman stripped Sophia bare. Painted her body in symbols, red ink, black ash. Bound her arms behind her back. Gagged her with silk.
Then she kissed her, long and deep, tongues dancing in fire.
She whispered stories of Lucas's sins as she touched Sophia's thighs.
"He begged to be broken."
She slid fingers inside her.
"He liked it when I burned him."
Her tongue moved lower.
"And when I carved my name into his skin, he begged for more."
Sophia came hard, body arching.
Tears mixed with pleasure.
"Now you carry his sins inside you," the woman whispered. "And mine."
---
When Sophia returned to Lucas, she didn't speak.
She looked him in the eye and said, "She told me everything."
Lucas froze.
"What did she say?"
"That you let her kill the girl before me."
He looked away.
"And that you liked it."
Silence.
Sophia stepped closer.
"Did you?"
He nodded once.
"I still do."
She slapped him again. This time, he grabbed her wrist mid-air.
"You think I'm the villain," he whispered. "But this story doesn't have heroes."
"Then I'll be the monster."
He smiled.
"That's my girl."
---
That night, they fucked like animals.
She bit his shoulder until he bled.
He choked her until she saw stars.
They scratched and screamed and came together, leaving the sheets torn and their bodies covered in bruises.
When they lay tangled afterward, he whispered, "She wants to kill me, you know."
Sophia looked at him. "She's not the only one."
He laughed.
"You'll have to decide soon."
"Decide what?"
"Whether to kill me…"
He kissed her lips, slow.
"Or become me."