---
You stumble forward through the narrow corridor, still reeling from the pain in your chest where the key embedded itself. But there is no blood. No scar. Just a sensation—like something ancient and heavy now lives inside your ribs.
The hallway ends in front of a black curtain. Velvet. Heavy. You hesitate before drawing it aside.
Behind it is a vast, dimly lit space.
A maze.
But not of stone. Not of hedges. This maze is made entirely of mirrors. Tall panes, stretching to the ceiling. Some cracked. Some pristine. All facing in different directions, reflecting you… but not only you.
You step inside.
Immediately, the path shifts behind you, sealing your way out. You are alone with your reflections.
Or so you think.
---
The Eleventh Choice:
You walk for what feels like hours. Each turn leads to a new version of you.
One mirror shows you as a child, crying in a corner. Another as a teenager, eyes hollow, hands red. Another: smiling too wide. That smile isn't yours. Not really.
But one mirror is different. It doesn't reflect you at all. Instead, it shows a stranger. A version of you that never existed—or maybe one that could have, if you'd made a different choice long ago.
This version has kind eyes. Unscarred hands. A gentle smile.
You're drawn to it.
Until the mirror cracks itself.
A voice behind you:
"You grieve for lives you never lived."
You spin. No one is there. Only more mirrors.
You touch the cracked one. It pulses.
And now, you see yourself breaking apart.
Piece by piece.
---
Do you:
A) Step into the cracked mirror and try to become the version you saw.
B) Smash the mirror. That life isn't real—it never was.
C) Turn away and walk deeper, searching for a version that is.
D) Talk to the reflection. Ask it what it knows that you don't.
---
The air grows colder. Your breath fogs the glass.
A single line appears across every mirror in blood-red script:
"You are both prisoner and warden. Which will you choose to remain?"
Your fingers tremble as you touch the next glass panel. It shatters without sound, revealing another hallway.
You walk through it.
And find yourself standing in front of a mirror throne.
A seat made of jagged glass. A crown hovering above it.
The throne calls to you.
But every step toward it feels heavier than the last.
You hear chains dragging behind you. But when you look, there's nothing there—only more of you.
Watching. Judging. Begging.
---
Quiz 11:
A voice echoes from the throne:
"Tell me, prisoner—what keeps you bound?"
A) My guilt. It wraps around me like a second skin.
B) My fear. It whispers that I'll never be enough.
C) My desire. It leads me into the dark, again and again.
D) My memory. It refuses to let me go.
---
End of Chapter 11
You leave the maze. But something follows you.
You're no longer sure if the mirrors were showing reflections… or predictions.