What the Mirror Held

The Queen's chamber hadn't changed in seventeen years—but it felt like it had been waiting for her.

The air was thick with magic—ancient, watching. Dust floated in lazy spirals around Elira's boots as she stepped across the cold stone floor, each step muffled like the room didn't want to remember sound. The books sat untouched. The wardrobe remained sealed, its silver inlay tarnished with time. But at the center of it all stood the mirror.

Gilded.

Tall.

Impossibly clean.

Its surface shimmered faintly—untouched by dust, by decay, by grief. Like it remembered nothing.

Elira paused in front of it.

Her reflection met her gaze.

Same face. Same scars. Same stubborn tilt to her jaw. But the eyes—those weren't hers. They shimmered with knowledge she hadn't yet earned, grief she hadn't yet lived.

And when the reflection tilted its head—but she hadn't moved—her lungs locked.

That wasn't her.

The glass rippled.

"You should not have come alone."

The voice wasn't spoken. It pressed into her thoughts like a fingertip pressing against the surface of her mind.

"Elira!"

Kael's voice rang behind her, sudden and sharp—but before she could turn, the mirror pulsed.

And pulled.

There was no time to scream.

Light exploded.

And the world turned inside out.

Kael reached her just in time to see her vanish.

Not walk. Not step. Not fall.

Vanish.

Like the mirror drank her.

He lunged forward, hand slamming against the glass—but it was cool. Solid. Still.

"Elira!" he shouted, breath catching. "Come back!"

But the mirror held only his reflection now—haunted, panicked—and something behind him that flickered in the shadows.

A smile that didn't belong to him.

Elira landed hard.

Stone cracked beneath her knees. The air whooshed from her lungs, magic crawling over her skin like vines made of frost and memory.

She gasped. Her hands shook as she rose slowly.

The Queen's chamber still surrounded her.

But it wasn't the same.

The colors were off—faded, like someone had drained the warmth from them. The air didn't move quite right. Time... didn't feel like it belonged to anything.

She turned.

The mirror was gone.

Or maybe... she was on the wrong side of it now.

"You found the heart of my truth."

The voice snapped her around.

Her mother stood across the room.

Not quite a ghost. Not fully alive.

Something in between.

Her skin was pale, tinged with starlight. Her dress was woven of moonlight and shadow, drifting weightlessly. No crown. No armor. Just... sorrow. Heavy as stone.

"You're dead," Elira said hoarsely.

"I am," the Queen replied softly. "But not gone."

Her feet barely touched the floor as she crossed the room. "What I sealed… kept part of me."

"So this is a vision?" Elira asked. "A dream?"

"This is legacy." The Queen's voice cracked slightly. "The truth I hoped you would never have to see."

Elira swallowed. "I'm not here for riddles."

"No." The Queen's eyes dimmed. "You're here because the blade called. Because Malric awakened. Because the final chain is beginning to break."

"You turned me into a vessel."

"You were born to protect the realm."

"No," Elira snapped. "You made me a failsafe. A lock. Your goddamn contingency plan."

The Queen didn't deny it.

"You were not born to inherit," she said. "You were born to contain."

Elira stepped back like she'd been slapped. "You used me."

"I saved them all."

"You sacrificed your daughter."

Silence.

Heavy. Unforgiving.

The Queen's shoulders sank. "You were the only choice I had."

The air trembled.

Suddenly, the room melted—walls folding in, floor stretching outward—until they stood in a circle of fire-lit torches. Twelve mages surrounded a stone dais carved with runes older than language.

On it—a baby.

Swaddled in violet cloth.

Eyes closed. Glowing faintly.

Elira's breath snagged.

"That's me."

The Queen nodded. "The night you were born."

"Why show me this?"

"Because you need to see what I gave up."

The Queen stepped forward, kneeling beside the child—her hand hovering, trembling—before gently pressing to the infant's chest.

"She would have burned the world."

Elira's voice shook. "So you sealed me."

"I didn't have a choice. Your magic... it wasn't just ours. It came laced with the blood of the Undying King. It wasn't just inheritance—it was infection. He touched my womb before I ever touched his throne."

Elira staggered back. "So you knew he'd rise."

"I knew he would seek a vessel."

"So you made one."

"I made one who could fight him."

Elira turned away. Her chest ached.

"I didn't want to be forgotten," she whispered. "I wanted to rule. To live. To be remembered for more than this."

"You still can," her mother said.

"No," Elira hissed. "I'm a prison in skin. That's all I've ever been."

The torches blew out.

They were back in the mirror's corridor—endless reflections spinning into infinity.

"You said I had a choice," Elira whispered.

"You do," the Queen said. "Break the chain... and he escapes. Hold it... and you may never be free."

"And if I choose neither?"

The Queen's lips trembled into something almost like a smile. "Then you become something new."

The air shattered.

A dark pulse ripped through the corridor like a scream made of thunder.

And another voice—low, cold, ancient—echoed from the shadows.

"You've wandered too far."

Elira turned.

A figure stepped from the void.

Tall. Cloaked in violet flame. His face hidden, but his presence pressed down on her like gravity, slow and brutal.

The Undying King.

"You," she breathed.

He stepped closer. The walls cracked with each footfall.

"You are the last chain," he said. "But chains break."

Elira lifted her hand.

Tried to summon fire.

Nothing.

"No magic?" he mocked. "Then let me show you why."

He reached toward her—

The Queen flung herself between them.

"You will not have her!"

They collided—magic rupturing through the air in a shockwave of burning light.

Outside, Kael stumbled as the mirror glowed hot. Red-hot.

Mira arrived, panting. "What the hell—?!"

"She's trapped inside," Kael said. "And I can't get her out."

Mira placed a hand on the mirror. "This is blood-magic. Ancient. It's not going to break on its own."

Kael hesitated.

"There's one person who might be able to pull her out."

Mira went still. "Kael. No. Not him."

"I don't have a choice."

"He'll want something," she warned. "And it won't be a fair trade."

Kael turned toward the dungeons.

"I already gave it."

Deep below, Eryx grinned as Kael entered.

"Finally ready to admit you need me?"

"Shut your mouth," Kael snapped. "She's in the mirror. She's not coming back."

Eryx rose slowly, stretching like a man waking from a dream. "Ah. So the Queen's little lock turned the key."

"I need you to open the way."

Eryx cocked his head. "And what will you give me, cousin?"

"Access. After."

Eryx smiled wide. "That's all I ever wanted."

He stepped into the circle. Magic hummed.

"But you should know, Kael… what she brings back might not be hers."

Kael flinched.

"Just bring her home."

Inside the mirror realm, the Queen lay broken.

Elira knelt beside her, heart pounding, hands hovering uselessly.

"He's stronger now," the Queen gasped. "Merging with Eryx. Feeding."

"How do I stop it?"

"You seal him. In your soul."

Elira's breath caught.

"And if I don't?"

The Queen's hand gripped hers.

"Then he breaks the world."

Light poured through the cracks.

"Choose, Elira. Now."

She stood, eyes blazing.

"I choose me."

She ran.

The mirror cracked.

She erupted back into the world like a falling star—magic rippling from her skin.

Kael caught her.

Glass shattered across the floor like rain.

"Elira," he whispered.

She gasped. Her eyes opened.

But they weren't violet anymore.

They were gold.

Kael's heart stopped.

"What did you see?"

Elira stared at the cracked mirror.

Her voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.

"She lied."

Kael frowned. "About what?"

But Elira didn't answer.

Because for the first time since touching the blade…

She didn't know if the Queen had lied about the King—

…or about Kael.