The Hidden Mirror

Chapter Thirty-Six: The Hidden Mirror

The map Nyra gave them was incomplete.

Not by accident.

By design.

Some places were never meant to be found easily—especially when they held truths buried deep enough to shatter kingdoms.

And the second mirror—the Hidden Mirror—was one of them.

Three days of travel brought them to the edge of a valley where the land dipped into a basin of mist and reeds. Old stories named it Calder Hollow, but few alive still remembered the name. It was a place drowned by time—once a temple, now a ruin beneath dark water.

From the ridge above, Talen and Lira stared down at the murky expanse.

"Looks like a lake," Talen muttered.

"It was," Lira said. "Before the flood."

Talen turned to her.

"You've been here?"

"No," she said. "But I've dreamed of it."

They descended cautiously, boots sinking into soft earth as the trees thinned and the air thickened. Every sound was muffled by the heavy fog that clung to the ground. Even their breathing seemed distant.

"Feels like we're walking into a mouth," Talen whispered.

Lira didn't disagree.

They found the remnants of the temple by midday.

Massive stone arches jutted from the flooded earth like broken ribs. Moss-covered columns leaned at angles too defiant for time alone to cause. And in the center of it all: a spire, half-submerged, with the top just breaching the water's surface like a drowning memory.

"There," Lira said.

Talen followed her gaze.

Carved along the visible rim of the spire were glyphs—weathered but not erased.

"Is that…?"

"Ancient Ember script," Lira confirmed. "I recognize it from the Echo basin."

Talen traced a symbol with his finger, eyes narrowing.

"It says, 'Speak not, lest memory rise.'"

They circled the spire, searching for a way in. Most of the stone structure lay underwater, hidden beneath the thick green sheen. It was Lira who spotted it first—a carved tunnel descending beneath the waterline.

"Here."

Talen peered down. "That's submerged."

"I know."

He looked at her.

"You planning to hold your breath the whole way?"

"No," she said, removing her cloak. "I plan to remember how to breathe beneath memory."

They tied themselves together with rope and stepped into the cold.

The water swallowed them fast. Muffled the world. Stole the heat from their skin.

But as they descended through the tunnel, something changed.

The water grew clearer. Warmer. The pressure vanished.

Talen realized he could breathe.

Not with lungs.

But with will.

Lira turned to him and nodded.

It was working.

They were inside the memory now.

The tunnel led into a great circular chamber beneath the lake.

At its center stood a plinth of silver-stone, untouched by time.

And floating above it—

A mirror.

Whole.

Perfect.

Untarnished.

Suspended in the air, spinning slowly without wind.

Talen and Lira approached.

No words passed between them.

The silence demanded reverence.

Then—without warning—the mirror flared.

Not with light.

With truth.

Talen saw himself—

But not just older. Not just stronger.

He saw himself wearing the Crown Below.

Not in madness.

In choice.

He stood on a dais, Riverfort ablaze behind him, Lira at his side—kneeling.

He screamed.

And the vision broke.

Lira had fallen to her knees, hands clutched over her heart.

Her breath was ragged. Her eyes full of tears.

"What did you see?" Talen asked, voice shaking.

She looked at him—and flinched.

"I… I killed you," she whispered.

The silence afterward was heavier than any sword.

They backed away from the mirror, reeling.

"It showed us what we could become," Talen said.

"No," Lira replied. "What we might become. If we let fear win."

Talen turned, fists clenched.

"This isn't just memory anymore. This is warning."

From the mirror's surface, a ripple passed outward.

Something had been activated.

Words etched themselves into the pedestal:

"The second voice has been remembered.

The truth now sees you."

Then the mirror stilled.

And began to crack.

Hairline fractures traced the surface like lightning.

One last reflection shone:

Talen and Lira standing apart.

They surfaced an hour later, gasping.

The lake behind them had stilled.

But the air around them had changed.

They had touched something sacred.

And left a mark.

Not on the mirror.

On themselves.

That night, they didn't speak.

They sat by the fire, staring into the flames.

Closer than ever.

But more afraid of each other than they dared admit.