Chapter 6: Where the Karnyx Sleeps

The mirror didn't crack or explode or make a dramatic sound when Zero stepped through.

It simply stopped being a mirror.

One second he was in a hospital room that smelled like antiseptic and low-budget soap. The next, he was ankle-deep in dust, staring at a stairway that descended into black.

Not dark. Black.

As if the absence of light had weight to it.

The girl wasn't with him anymore.

Neither was the voice in the mirror.

And Zero had a feeling that if he shouted now, even his own echo wouldn't answer.

The stairs felt endless. Like one of those dreams where you're walking forever but never get tired—or any closer to something.

He passed a broken torch sconce. Then another. Then another.

"If I had a nickel for every torch holder I've seen and ignored today, I'd have like... three nickels," he muttered. "Which isn't much, but statistically weird."

His voice sounded wrong. Too flat. Like the air around him didn't care enough to bounce sound back.

He tried to keep his mind moving. Rambling internally. Anything to avoid focusing on the pressure building behind his eyes.

The pressure that pulsed like a heartbeat.

The pressure that hadn't been there until he'd entered this place.

When he finally reached the bottom, the ground was smooth. Not dirt. Not stone.

Glass.

Beneath it: flickers of color, like stars underwater. Shifting. Moving. Trying to form something he couldn't quite focus on.

At the center of the room stood a platform. Upon it, a single object:

The Karnyx.

Zero approached slowly. His feet made no sound on the glass. His breath felt like it wasn't being exhaled into air, but into memory.

The Karnyx was… disappointing.

It wasn't glowing or humming. No secret glyphs, no mechanical elegance. It looked like a metal rod the length of his forearm, etched with lines like musical staves, capped with a broken gear. Old. Inert.

But it pulsed. Not visibly, but in him.

The closer he got, the more his teeth itched.

"Okay," he whispered, crouching. "What exactly are you?"

"He doesn't know yet?"

Zero jumped. Fell flat on his back.

A face hovered over him.

Wide grin. One green eye. One glowing orange orb where the other should be. And a helmet made entirely of cracked mirror shards.

"Hi," the stranger said cheerfully, extending a hand. "You must be the Zero who doesn't implode on contact. That's fun."

Zero stared.

"...Who the hell are you?"

"Ah. Introductions. Where's my card…"

The man patted his coat, which appeared to be made of stolen lab coats sewn together with shoelaces. Then he pulled out a playing card.

It was blank.

"There," he said. "That's me."

Zero blinked slowly. "You're insane."

"Well, technically I'm archived under 'Anomaly 42-Theta,' but yeah. Close enough."

They sat near the Karnyx.

Zero didn't touch it. He didn't trust it. The stranger—who had started calling himself Patch—circled it like a dog unsure whether it was food or a grenade.

"So," Patch said. "What do you know about that thing?"

"That it's connected to whatever's breaking me."

Patch snorted. "Breaking you? Kid, you're not being broken. You're being unfolded."

"That sounds worse."

"It's like a croissant. But existential."

Zero pinched the bridge of his nose.

Patch grinned wider.

"You're a walking recursion loop. A sentient 'what if' with a body. That Karnyx? It's the meta-key. You're the lock."

"So what happens if I touch it?"

"One of three things: You wake up. You disappear. Or you split into thirty-seven smaller versions of yourself and start a barbershop quartet across dimensions."

"...You're joking."

Patch winked.

"You hope I'm joking."

Zero stared at the Karnyx.

It didn't move.

But the platform began to glow faintly. A ring of old symbols circling the base. The room shifted. Not physically—but it felt different. Lopsided. Like reality had blinked.

Patch stopped talking.

His smile faded.

"...Okay, that shouldn't be happening."

"What's wrong?"

Patch turned. For the first time, he looked serious.

"You're not the only one who found this place."

Zero spun.

A figure stepped into view from the opposite corridor.

Tall. Clean suit. No face.

The Curator.

"Fragment 7," it said, voice like static. "You are not cleared for Karnyx access."

Patch drew something from his coat—a slingshot, inexplicably—and pointed it at the faceless entity.

"Run," he said. "Now."

Zero grabbed the Karnyx.

The world screamed.

And everything—again—shattered.