Beneath the Glass Lies Fire

The mirror hummed.

Not a sound Elira could hear with her ears—but a tremor in her bones, like something inside her had begun to echo its rhythm. The old, fractured gate shimmered faintly in the dark, and though no one else in the Temple would have noticed, Elira felt it.

A pull.

Not a command. Not a curse.

A lure.

And she was already answering it.

Barefoot now, her cloak dragging behind her like the wings of something long burned out, Elira stood before the Mirror Gate. The torchlight along the corridor walls flickered violently, as if the very stones were resisting what she was about to do.

The mark on her chest pulsed once—low and deep, like a warning. Or a heartbeat.

"You'll burn everything," Mira had told her earlier that day.

"Maybe that's the only way left," Elira had replied.

She stepped forward, and the tips of her fingers breached the surface like water.

No hesitation.

The mirror didn't welcome her gently this time.

No hush. No stillness.

Just fire.

The moment her body crossed the veil, the ground beneath her hardened to obsidian. The sky above cracked open with gold lightning. Winds howled through her hair, laced with voices—her own voice, echoing back in different tones, each darker than the last.

"Elira."

She spun toward it.

And stopped cold.

It was her.

Or something wearing her face. The same features. The same eyes—only the gold was molten now, flickering like flame in the hollow of her pupils. Her skin glowed like polished glass. And her smile… her smile was ancient.

"You came back," the reflection said, voice velvet-smooth.

"I came for answers."

The reflection glided forward, barefoot across a surface that looked like liquid silver. "You already know. You just don't want to believe."

Elira's hands balled into fists. "You're not real."

"I'm more real than what you left behind."

"I'm not your vessel."

The reflection's smile deepened. "You were never just a vessel. You were the key."

—

Back in the waking world, Kael paced in front of the sealed vault.

"She's inside again?" His voice cracked with tension.

Mira gave a short nod. "I traced the aura myself. The surge she left behind almost boiled the scrying pool."

Kael swore and slammed his fist into the wall. "She could be lost in there. For good."

"Or worse," Mira said softly. "She could come back with more than she went in with."

He didn't argue.

Instead, he unrolled a scroll—parchment torn, ink smudged, but still legible. Mira's eyes widened as she read.

When the golden flame devours the chain,Death shall awaken in her name.Not the King, but the fire-born Queen—She shall rise, not fall.And the one who loves her must choose:Save her soul, or save the world.

Mira was silent.

She didn't need to ask him what he'd choose.

Kael already knew.

—

Inside the mirror, Elira followed her reflection across a bridge made of flickering memories.

Each step she took sent images rippling beneath her feet—childhood, cloaked in fear; her mother's cold voice warning her to stay small; Kael's hand reaching for hers, then pulling back too soon.

The path was narrow and glittering. Each memory stung.

"This place…" Elira murmured. "It feeds on pain."

"No," her reflection said, glancing back. "It is pain."

"And you?"

"I'm what you could be. Unbroken. Untamed. Free from guilt."

"That's not freedom," Elira said. "That's surrender."

The reflection's golden eyes narrowed. "Call it what you like. But I'm stronger than you."

"No." Elira's voice steadied. "You're just emptier."

The reflection struck.

The ground buckled. Flame ripped through the air. Elira barely raised a shield in time, but even then, the force of it sent her skidding across the slick, mirror-like floor.

She rose, breath ragged. "So that's what this is? A test?"

"A choice," the reflection hissed. "Become me—or be destroyed."

—

Outside, Kael drew his sword.

"I'm going after her."

Mira caught his arm. "You won't survive in there."

"I don't care."

"She will," she said.

He looked at her, jaw tight. "Then help me. Please."

Mira hesitated—then gave a low, ancient chant. The wardstones surrounding the gate glowed hot. The mirror's surface rippled like stormwater, then stilled.

"You have thirty minutes," Mira said. "No more."

Kael didn't pause.

He stepped into the light.

—

Inside, Elira battled her reflection in a storm of fire and shadow. The spells came hard and fast—frost against flame, memory against magic. Her reflection moved like a phantom—graceful, relentless, impossible to pin down.

"Why fight me?" the mirror-Elira sang. "I'm what you need to survive."

"You're what he wants."

"I am the King," the reflection whispered—and her voice deepened.

It wasn't hers anymore.

It was his.

Elira froze.

The mark on her chest throbbed violently—but for once, she didn't push it down.

She reached for it.

And it answered.

Flame tore through her—not from the outside, but from within. But this fire didn't burn her.

It burned the reflection.

Cracks split across her doppelgänger's skin. The gold shimmer flared into white heat.

Elira stepped forward, no fear in her eyes. "I'm not your prison," she said. "I'm your end."

She drove her hand into her reflection's chest.

There was a flash of light—hot, white, blinding.

And then silence.

—

Kael stumbled through a haze of smoke.

The mirror realm flickered and twisted around him. He turned, heart pounding.

"Elira!"

She stood at the center of the space, alone, shoulders shaking.

He ran to her. "Elira!"

She turned.

And for a second, her eyes weren't gold.

They were black.

He stopped.

"Elira…?"

She blinked.

The gold returned.

She looked down at her hands—and dropped to her knees.

"I almost…" Her voice cracked. "I could feel him inside me. His voice. His will. But then—then I felt me again."

Kael knelt beside her, took her hands gently in his.

"We'll fix this," he said. "We'll get whatever's left of him out."

She looked up at him and gave a small smile—fragile, tired.

He didn't see the flicker behind her eyes.

But something else did.