Shadows of the Mirror King

The sky was black when they left the cathedral, but it wasn't night.

A shadow had crawled across the heavens like ink spilled over a page.

"That's not a storm," Naia whispered.

Above them, the clouds twisted in slow spirals, as if something massive was watching from beyond.

Coker didn't speak.

His chest still burned.

That name—whatever it was—kept ringing in his bones like a bell no one else could hear.

They rode in silence for miles, through withered trees and broken roads, until they reached an abandoned watchtower just beyond Hollow Valley. They needed shelter, and answers.

Inside the tower, they found dust, cracked stone, and a forgotten journal half-buried under rubble.

Lira brushed it off, flipping carefully through the pages. "It belonged to a mage scout. Last entries talk about… sightings."

Coker raised an eyebrow. "Of what?"

Lira's hand trembled slightly as she read aloud.

"Day 14. A man made of mirrors stood at the edge of the valley. He smiled, but his reflection didn't. I don't know if he's real."

"Day 17. The stars disappeared for two minutes. When they returned… they were in different places."

"Day 19. He was in my room. I didn't open the door."

"Day 20. He said I'm not me anymore."

She stopped reading.

A deep silence settled over the group.

Naia stood near the window, eyes scanning the hills.

"Coker… that mask, that name you absorbed. It's changing you, isn't it?"

He looked down at his palm.

The mark had shifted. Its lines were no longer simple; they twisted like thorns and mirrors, and glowed with soft, ancient light.

"Maybe," he answered honestly.

That night, as they slept, Coker dreamed again.

He stood in a hall of mirrors. Infinite reflections of himself stretched in every direction—but none of them were right. Some had blood-red eyes. Others smiled with too many teeth. One reached out and touched the glass—

And it cracked.

Behind that mirror stood a boy in black armor, eyes dull, shoulders hunched.

It was him.

But older. Colder. Broken.

The older Coker whispered:

"They will betray you. All of them. You are not meant to be their friend. You are meant to replace them."

Coker shook his head. "I don't want power like that."

The reflection laughed.

"You don't get to choose."

Then he opened his mouth—

And screamed.

Coker woke with a start.

The tower was dark. Quiet.

Too quiet.

Elira and Naia were still asleep.

But Lira…

Was gone.

Outside, a fog had crept in.

Coker stepped into it, his breath fogging with cold that didn't belong to summer.

He followed footprints—bare feet, oddly shaped.

Then he saw her.

Lira stood in front of a mirror floating in midair. It shimmered like water.

From within it… the Mirror Man stared back.

"Leave her alone!" Coker shouted, stepping between them.

The mirror flickered.

The man in the reflection was Coker. Twisted, older, wearing the mask.

The Mirror Man didn't speak. He only pointed—to Coker's chest.

The mark glowed again.

A pulse of magic burst from the glass, hurling Coker back against a tree.

He couldn't move.

The fog swirled tighter. Whispering.

Lira turned to him, but her eyes were cloudy, unfocused.

She was… sleepwalking.

"No," Coker growled, pushing against the paralyzing pressure. "Not again."

His magic responded—not with heat or light, but something colder. Sharper.

The name inside him stirred.

He raised his hand, and from his fingertips, letters of flame appeared—symbols, runes, names unspoken.

One word. One name.

He shouted it.

The mirror shattered into dust.

The fog recoiled.

Lira collapsed into his arms.

He held her tight, breathing hard. The magic faded.

But the feeling remained.

That something had seen him. And that it was… waiting.

Back in the tower, Lira slowly woke.

"I saw him," she whispered. "He said if I wore the mask… I'd never have to feel small again."

Coker looked away.

He knew what that promise felt like. It was a lie wrapped in truth.

Naia and Elira stood close, silent but supportive.

They knew now—

This wasn't just about Coker anymore.

The Mirror King was waking.

And he wanted them all.

Meanwhile, deep beneath the obsidian mountains…

A throne sat upon a mirror lake, surrounded by chained corpses who still whispered secrets in their sleep.

On that throne sat Kael—his eyes shut, but his magic burning like a sun behind his skin.

Beside him stood the Mirror Man, kneeling.

"I found him," the reflection said. "He wears the name. The forbidden one."

Kael smiled without joy.

"Then soon… the world will crack."

He opened his eyes.

And the sky across the continent trembled.