Chapter 9: Glasses don't lie
I thought training would be cool. You know, like in the movies.
"Discover your power." "Bond with the team." "Unlock hidden potential."
Nah.
Echo tossed me into a mirror pit and told me to "stop flinching like a civilian."
"This one reacts fast," he said, gesturing to the mirror in front of me.
A full-length slab of warped glass, framed in iron, runes carved along its edges like ancient warnings.
"It's sensitive. Probably aggressive."
"Like you, then," I muttered.
He tossed me a dagger. "Start with this. Not to stab. Just hold it."
"Comforting."
---
I stood in front of the mirror, dagger in one hand, doubt in the other.
My reflection blinked at me. Same tired eyes. Same hair I hadn't combed in two days. Same hoodie with the peanut butter stain on the sleeve.
Totally normal.
Then Echo's voice came from behind me.
"Try syncing with it."
I blinked. "What, like... spiritually?"
"No," he snapped. "Emotionally. Your fear feeds it. So does your focus. Think of something real. Then push."
---
I gritted my teeth.
Fine.
Think of something real?
How about:
My reflection glitching in front of an entire class
Noelle dragging me to a literal gateway into mirror hell
A cult that wants to use my face to open the door to another dimension
And five teenagers who think I'm the missing piece to stop the apocalypse when I still haven't figured out how to do laundry properly
That real enough for you?
The glass shimmered.
My reflection tilted its head… and didn't tilt it back.
I froze.
"Echo," I called softly. "It's doing the thing again."
"Stay calm," he said, stepping closer. "It's testing your boundary. Push it out of sync."
---
I raised my hand.
My reflection didn't.
It just stood there, head still tilted. Staring.
And then—it smiled.
But this time it wasn't taunting. It was… pitying.
Then the surface of the glass rippled.
Like water.
And my head spun.
Suddenly, I wasn't in the bunker anymore.
***
I was somewhere dark.
Stone walls. Metal floor. Red emergency lights blinking slowly, like a dying heartbeat. It felt like a hospital and a prison at the same time.
Each blink lit up a hallway filled with mirrors.
Mirrors mounted on the walls.
Mirrors embedded in the floor.
Mirrors covered in... fog?
No. Not fog.
Breath.
Someone—or something—was breathing on the other side.
---
I watched myself—my other self—walking down the corridor in this vision. Confident. Dressed differently. Eyes sharper. Older?
No weapon. No hesitation.
He—I?—stopped in front of a mirror with nine locks around its edges. Every lock glowed faintly.
He leaned in close.
And the reflection didn't show him back.
It showed… something else.
---
"You're the one who left the gate unlocked."
The voice didn't echo. It hummed inside my skull.
My stomach turned. My hands were shaking.
"You forgot. You made sure you would."
And then…
"You'll remember when it breaks again.
---
I gasped, snapping back to reality like someone dumped ice water on me.
I was on the floor, mirror cracked, breath gone, and Echo crouched beside me looking way too concerned for someone usually made of stone.
"You blacked out," he said. "Five seconds. What did you see?"
I didn't answer right away.
How do you explain a vision where you might've… betrayed the world?
---
"Corridors," I said. "Mirrors on the walls. I think I saw... me. But older? Or different. And something told me I left the gate unlocked."
Echo's expression hardened. "That corridor—was it glowing red? Did you see the nine-lock mirror?"
I nodded.
His jaw clenched. "That's the Holding Hall. From inside the Mirror Realm. No one's been there in years."
I blinked. "You've seen it?"
He stood. "Not directly. It's in the old reports. Restricted archives. Only people with deep mirror bonds can access that level."
"And I just got tossed in with a dagger and anxiety."
"Apparently that's enough," he muttered.
---
Outside the training room, things were unraveling.
Juno clutched her anchor shard—it was glowing.
Ziv's monitors were flickering with red static.
Renji's runes started bleeding ink.
Noelle burst through the door a moment later, breath caught, eyes wide.
"What just happened?"
"He touched a memory loop," Echo said.
"Whose?"
He looked at me.
"I think… his own."
---
We didn't say much after that.
They let me sit. Breathe. Stare at my hands like they weren't mine.
But the silence in the room was deafening.
Because we all knew what this meant:
I wasn't just a key.
I was a repeat offender.
Someone who'd been here before.
Opened something before.
And made sure I forgot it.
---
In the deepest mirror—sealed behind twelve layers of runes and iron—a small crack formed.
On the other side, a hooded figure smiled.
He whispered:
"He's starting to remember."
"Begin the rites."
"The gate will open again—and this time, he won't run."