Reflections Should Not Have Teeth (And Other Foundational Life Lessons)"

Let me just preface this by saying: I did not punch the divine mirror on purpose.

Did it deserve it? Yes. Was it whispering suspiciously seductive commentary about my soul's "elasticity" while flickering with glitchy static? Also yes. But I want the record to show that I exercised remarkable restraint up until the moment it giggled.

Mirrors should not giggle.

Especially not with my voice.

Now, if you're new here—first of all, wow, what a terrible place to jump in. Secondly, here's a quick recap: I just got spiritually cross-examined by a divine courtroom that runs on spreadsheets, aesthetic lighting, and guilt. Then I may or may not have been labeled an Echo-Glitch-Anomaly-Class-Redacted. Which is, apparently, bad.

Also: the System thinks I'm dating four people.

And that I started a cult. (Mirielle again.)

And that I owe fate, like, three existential debts and one emotionally-charged spoon duel.

So naturally, it sent me to a Reflection Chamber to "confront myself."

Ha. Hahaha. HAH.

Spoiler: I lost.

Scene: One Man. One Mirror. Too Much Existential Feedback.

The chamber was... elegant, in the "we spent an entire divine budget on this one moodboard" kind of way. Marble floors. Arcane gold trim. Floating script that said things like Self-Awareness is a Weapon and Try Not to Cry. Try Crying Harder.

The mirror itself stood at the far end, framed by spiraling fractal glyphs and softly humming with... let's call it emotional menace. Think "possessed therapist" vibes.

And yes, I walked straight up to it.

Because I make poor choices with confidence.

"Kael Reinhardt," the mirror said, in a voice that sounded exactly like me if I had been possessed by a smug audiobook narrator. "Let's talk about your unresolved self-worth issues."

"Let's not," I replied, already backing up.

"Do you ever wonder why sarcasm is your primary emotional defense?"

"Nope," I lied bravely.

"Interesting," it replied. "Deflection noted."

(Inner me: Deflection is a lifestyle, thank you very much.)

But then it shimmered.

And there, staring back at me, was… not just me.

It was Mirror-Kael.

Same face. Same tousled hair. Same haunting air of why-is-he-hot-but-mildly-exhausted. But the eyes? Oh, no. Those were glowing glitch-blue and filled with the kind of insight that makes therapists rich.

"I'm your unprocessed trauma," Mirror-Me said pleasantly. "Also, your potential. Possibly. Depending on narrative arcs."

I blinked. "Wait, are you my inner voice, externalized and made eldritch through divine debugging logic?"

Mirror-Me grinned. "Bingo."

"Oh, great," I muttered. "So we're doing that plotline."

Let the spiraling begin.

Five Minutes Into Existential Sparring and Already Regretting Life

Mirror-Me: "You avoid intimacy by pretending you don't deserve it."

Me: "I avoid intimacy by being chronically targeted by demigods and emotionally volatile swordswomen."

Mirror-Me: "And yet, you still flirt. Constantly. Unconsciously."

Me: "I call it 'survival via chaotic charm.'"

Mirror-Me: "You kissed Belladonna on the forehead after she nearly died for you."

Me: "It was a platonic forehead kiss!"

Mirror-Me: "There was orchestral music playing."

Me: "I didn't queue the harp!"

Mirror-Me: "You thanked Seraphina for protecting you by giving her a signed handkerchief and a wink."

Me: "That was ironic!"

Mirror-Me: "You let Mirielle braid your hair while you were emotionally vulnerable."

Me: "Okay that one's on her! She had ribbons!"

Mirror-Me: "And Aureline?"

Me: "...Listen, we were in a prophecy trance and the stars aligned—"

Mirror-Me: "And you said, quote, 'If we survive this, I'll buy you a fate-burger.'"

Me: "That's not romantic, it's culinary motivation."

(Inner me: Shut up, shut up, shut up, this is why we're emotionally bankrupt.)

By now, the room was warping. My reflections rippled across every surface, showing different moments I absolutely did not consent to relive.

Kael, surrounded by flowers, blushes helplessly as Mirielle declares him holy.

Kael, arms locked with Seraphina, bleeding and laughing after battle.

Kael, sitting in a dark corridor, silently holding Belladonna's hand as she shatters.

Kael, forehead-to-forehead with Aureline, time stopped around them, as prophecy burns in her eyes.

Kael, looking back at all of it and pretending it was nothing.

The mirror softened. Its voice dropped.

"Why are you so afraid of being wanted?"

And that's when I punched it.

SHATTER. GLITCH. NARRATIVE BREAKPOINT.

Now, I expected divine punishment. Or emotional whiplash. What I didn't expect was for the shards of the mirror to rise mid-air, rearrange into a spiral, and pull me inside.

The laws of physics waved goodbye.

And I landed somewhere else.

Welcome to the Echo Core.

It wasn't a place so much as a feeling. A world suspended in glitchlight and memory. A thousand Kaels, frozen in choices I hadn't made yet. Echoes.

One wore a crown. One was a tyrant. One was alone. One had... twelve spouses?

(Inner me: We do not have the stamina for that timeline.)

And in the center of it all?

A heartbeat.

Mine.

A voice called out: "Choose."

Choose what?

"I don't know who I'm supposed to be yet," I whispered.

"Then choose who you want to be."

I stared at the possibilities. The thrones. The ruins. The empty rooms. The crowded halls. The lovers. The liars. The leader. The coward. The glitch.

And I chose...

Me. The sarcastic mess. The unwilling chaos prince. The guy who punched a mirror and got sucked into a metaphysical therapy spiral.

The real me.

As soon as I did, the world burst into light.

And I woke up—gasping—on a velvet couch.

In the same pink room.

The girls were there.

They looked worried.

Belladonna was mid-summon, dagger in hand.

Mirielle had tears in her eyes.

Seraphina was already checking my pulse.

Aureline was holding an emergency prophecy scroll like a divine defibrillator.

And I?

I sat up, groaned, and said:

"Okay, so. Bad news: I might have broken a divine mirror. Good news: I chose to be emotionally responsible."

(Inner me: Bold claim. Back it up.)

They stared at me.

Then Belladonna: "He's alive."

Seraphina: "Damn. I lost the bet."

Mirielle: "Welcome back, Kael."

Aureline, softly: "You glow a little more now."

And for once, I didn't deflect.

I just said: "Thanks for waiting."

Next Time on Kaelverse:

Kael returns from the Echo Core... but something followed him back. Glitches ripple through the Academy. Mirrored versions start whispering things they shouldn't know. Also: a cursed poetry contest, a very flirty ghost, and Kael attempts to bake emotional stability into a cake. Spoiler: the cake is not fine.

Readers, polish your mirrors.

We're not done with reflections yet.