The Voice Beneath the Name
The next morning came with silence.
No birds. No wind. Just the sound of breathing and the heaviness that lingered after what had happened the night before.
Coker sat alone on the tower's roof, watching the mist melt from the treetops.
He clenched his fist.
The mark had faded again, but a new line had appeared—jagged and deep red, like a scar etched into magic itself.
It didn't hurt.
It just hummed.
Like a warning.
Naia joined him quietly, her sword slung across her back. "You okay?"
He gave a half-hearted shrug. "Define 'okay' when you've been screamed at by your own evil reflection."
Naia smirked. "You're still joking. That's a good sign."
He didn't smile back.
After a long pause, she asked, "What did the name say to you?"
Coker didn't answer right away.
Because it hadn't said anything.
It had sung.
Not in words. Not in any language he knew.
It was like a lullaby from the end of the world.
Like someone crying underwater.
Like every broken part of him whispering at once.
But deep inside it—he had felt something else.
Something ancient.
Something waiting to be unleashed.
They moved again by noon.
No time to waste. The capital of Rumerra was days away, and that was where they'd find answers—if any still existed.
Along the road, more signs of the Mirror King's presence appeared:
Cracked stones that reflected twisted faces.
Fields where shadows moved without their owners.
Streams that whispered secrets when no one was speaking.
At one point, they passed a tree with dozens of masks nailed into it—each one different. Wooden. Metal. Bone.
Lira froze.
She recognized one.
It had belonged to her brother.
He'd vanished years ago, chasing power.
She said nothing. But Coker saw the way her hands shook.
He didn't press.
That night, they camped near a crumbling village.
Most houses had collapsed, but the church still stood, barely. They set up inside, lighting what little firewood they could find.
Lira prepared food. Elira reinforced the doors with runes. Naia sharpened her blade.
Coker stared into the flame.
Then the voice came again.
From the mark.
This time it wasn't a song.
It was a question.
"Are you afraid of what you could become?"
He looked up, heart racing.
No one else seemed to hear it.
He whispered back, "Who are you?"
"I am the part of you that was hidden. The name you were never meant to bear."
He clutched his chest.
"I am not your enemy… unless you make me one."
His hands burned. The mark pulsed.
He stood, stumbling outside into the cold.
The stars above him were wrong—twisted constellations like eyes staring down.
And then, in the center of the courtyard, the ground split.
A single, black flower grew from the crack.
He stepped closer.
The petals whispered:
"Say the name again… and become what the world fears."
He reached for it.
Then a hand grabbed his shoulder.
Naia.
"Don't," she said softly. "That's not your power. That's his."
Coker looked at her—and for a second, he didn't recognize her.
He didn't recognize himself.
But he stepped back.
The flower wilted.
Inside, no one slept.
Not really.
They had all felt it.
The way the air twisted. The way the magic bent.
Something was following them.
And worse—
Something was already inside.
Far away…
In the Mirror King's domain…
Kael stood over a map made of blood and glass.
His eyes traced the fault lines running through the world—lines that only he could see.
"They awaken faster than I planned," he murmured. "Even the boy."
The Mirror Man knelt beside him. "Shall I break him?"
Kael smiled. "No. Let him break himself."
He dipped his hand into the glass map.
And somewhere, far away…
Coker's scar bled.