The light ran over the mirrors as if fleeing, not reflecting, but shattering across their cracked surfaces. She stood, staring into the glass, her eye twitching. She no longer knew if what she saw was her own reflection... or something else dwelling behind the pane.
Then the reflection moved.
But not like her.
The girl who appeared wasn't her. Snow-white hair floated in stillness, and golden eyes shimmered like twin stars in the void. The features were eerily familiar—to the point of pain—but this wasn't a reflection. This was someone alive.
The girl smiled and spoke with a voice like wind tangled in secret.
"At last... we meet."
She stepped back, heart pounding like thunder against her ribs. "Who... are you?"
The other answered, "I am the pendant... or rather, the human form of the essence that resides within it."
Air turned cold in her lungs.
"Pendant?"
The strange girl nodded, her gaze diving deep into hers: "You are the chosen one. Not... the one who came before."
Eirilyn narrowed her eyes. "I don't understand... What do you mean?"
"Because you've forgotten. Let me tell you a story that began before your memory even knew how to breathe."
In a breath, the mirror was filled with a vision: a quiet shore, a towering wave, the screams of two children.
The voice continued: "Two souls born at the same moment. Your world and hers overlapped in a moment of drowning. You were just little girls, swept away by the tide... and in that moment, your souls exchanged."
Eirilyn whispered, fragments rising: "The sea... Mother once said... I was three, disappeared, then came back different."
The pendant smiled: "Yes. The quiet child who was born returned more radiant, more alive. Because the body no longer housed the same soul."
Her throat tightened. "So... I never lived my own life?"
"No. You're the one whose true life was stolen... and has now returned to her rightful world. The soul that once inhabited your body was fractured. She didn't protect me. She clung to faint memories of your world, and that weakened her. But you... when you arrived in this body, you came empty. Pure. And that's why I chose you."
A hand extended from the mirror—faint, translucent: "Awaken. And look at your shoulder."
...
She jolted awake, chest rising and falling as if she had just surfaced from deep water.
A searing heat burned her shoulder. With trembling fingers, she pulled back her sleeve.
The symbol—the pendant's mark—was tattooed on her skin.
It glowed.
She gasped and covered it quickly.
The cell door creaked open. A guard entered, carrying a food tray, but paused at the sight of her.
Wide eyes. Pale face. Breath uneven.
"Are you... alright?"
She only nodded.
He exited, but whispered to another in the hallway: "Send a message to the capital. Something's... off."
...
In the Emperor's palace, under a sky thick with humidity, the chief servant knocked on Lucian's chamber door.
Lucian stepped out, eyes weary. "What now?"
"His Majesty requests your presence in the throne room."
Lucian exhaled, then replied, "Tell him I'll be there in five minutes."
He changed swiftly, donning his black coat threaded with silver, and made his way toward the throne room.
The guards bowed and opened the doors.
He entered. "Your Majesty."
The Emperor didn't return the greeting. His tone was sharp: "I've heard you're keeping your sister in a cell."
Lucian's features tensed, but he held his composure: "She's under my protection."
"Protection? In a dungeon? Is that how the Crown Prince treats his sister?"
Silence.
"Release her. Bring her to the palace. Treat her as befits my daughter."
Lucian bowed: "As you command."
He turned and walked away, footsteps echoing with restrained fury.
He clenched his fist. Whispered to himself: "Fine... it will be easier to watch her this way."
Then—a voice behind him: "Your Highness! An urgent message from the guards watching the girl."
He took it silently, read it, and a crooked smile curled his lips: "So... she's beginning to break. Maybe soon, she'll lead me to that cursed pendant."
...
In her cell, Eirilyn clutched her burning shoulder, the mark searing through flesh.
From behind the wall, Nalia spoke: "Hurts, doesn't it, little one?"
"None of your business," Eirilyn hissed.
A laugh. "If you don't master it... it'll consume you."
"What are you talking about?!"
"That mark isn't a blessing. It's a door. Leave it open... and spirits will pour into you until you're ash."
Her breath grew shallow. Panicked gasps.
She squeezed her eyes shut, reached inward: "Pendant... please... hear me."
...
In Nimora, Kaelon was turning the pendant in his palm.
Then—a whisper.
Broken, faint: "Someone... please... Capital... Lucian..."
He stood, heart pounding: "Eirilyn? Is that you?!"
But the voice vanished.
"No... That wasn't a dream. She's there. In the capital."
...
Back in the cell, she had collapsed. Her body lay still, drenched in sweat.
The same guard from the morning felt something was wrong. He unlocked the door quickly.
His eyes widened: "We need a healer! Now!"
...
Lucian arrived in a royal black carriage. He leapt down before the wheels even stopped.
"Where is she?!"
"Unconscious, Sire. She's burning up."
He shoved past them, found her crumpled in the corner. Lifted her into his arms.
"To the palace! Now!"
He stormed to the carriage, holding her tightly.
"Faster! She needs a physician immediately!"
The horses screamed into the wind.
...
In the now-empty cell, Nalia chuckled softly: "Now... the real story begins."
...
And in Nimora, Kaelon was fastening his saddle.
Lloyd appeared beside him.
"You're not going alone."
Kaelon nodded. "To the capital, then."
And they rode into the rising wind.