The rain didn't fall so much as it bled from the sky.
The path toward the Gate twisted through the Hollowed Vale, each tree crooked like an old man bent with secrets. Moss clung to every root, wet and glistening with the memory of storms long passed. Mist threaded between trunks like the whispers of spirits who never found rest. Seraphina stepped lightly, her fingers brushing bark and branch, her senses flaring.
This place reeked of magic. Old magic. The kind that watched you.
Behind her, Mira and three of the Nightguard followed in tense silence. Only the crunch of their boots and the hiss of the wind broke the hush. No birds. No beasts. Not even the familiar thrum of distant fire. Just the Vale and the Gate ahead.
Seraphina stopped suddenly.
The Mirror Gate.
It rose from a circle of broken stones like a scar left by the gods. A structure not built, but summoned. Twin archways made of mirrored obsidian, one facing this world—the other reflecting something else entirely. The surface rippled, not like water, but like glass trying to remember how to break.
Mira stepped forward. "It doesn't look like much."
Seraphina's voice was a thread. "That's because it's not meant to. It's meant to make you see what you fear."
"And what do you see?"
Seraphina looked into the glass.
Herself—but hollow. Eyes burning gold. A crown of flame on her brow. Valen's body at her feet, blood pooling like ink.
She flinched, but did not step back.
Mira placed a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to do this alone."
Seraphina nodded. "But I do have to do it."
She stepped forward.
The mirror swallowed her whole.
Inside the Mirror Realm
The moment Seraphina passed through, the world changed.
The sky was crimson, split with lightning that never stopped. Trees whispered in languages not heard in a thousand years. Shadows here had weight, and they moved even when the wind was still.
The path was a winding labyrinth of crystal and thorn. Every footstep echoed in strange tones, as if mocking her. Faces flickered in the glass-like surfaces around her—some hers, some Valen's, some warped beyond recognition.
A voice greeted her.
"Welcome, curse-born."
She turned to see a figure in silver robes, their face obscured by a porcelain mask. The same voice she'd heard once in dreams.
"You have passed the threshold. Now comes the test."
"What test?"
"The truth. And whether you deserve to bear it."
The figure raised a hand, and the realm shifted.
Suddenly, Seraphina stood in the ruins of her childhood village. Flames roared. Screams echoed. Her younger self cried in the corner as her mother stood with blood on her hands.
"This is the first truth," the voice said. "You were never saved. You were forged."
Seraphina clenched her fists.
"Show me more."
Lightning split the sky again. The mirror realm bent like metal in fire.
Meanwhile – Valen
He stood outside the Gate, staring into the reflection. He saw nothing. Not her. Not even himself. Just endless dark.
"She's in," Mira said.
Valen nodded. "Then the Gate is open."
He stepped forward, sword drawn. The bond may have broken, but his promise remained.
He would follow her into the abyss. Even if she never asked him to.