The chain-veiled mirror stood like a grave that refused burial.
Kael stood before it.
The Mournspire Sect gathered around him in a silent circle—faces hidden, hands clasped, breathing as one.
They weren't watchers.
They were witnesses.
This ritual hadn't been performed in nine thousand years.
Because no soul had ever survived it.
But Kael wasn't here to survive.
He was here to remember what the world had tried to forget.
> "When you look inside," the old man said softly, "you will see not a reflection… but a rejection."
> "Of what?"
> "Of mercy. Of reason. Of what they hoped you would become."
Kael exhaled.
> "Good. Let's see what they feared instead."
He stepped forward.
And the mirror opened.
---
⟢ Inside the Mirror
There was no reflection.
Only a void.
The world inside the mirror was not darkness—it was emptiness. Not absence of light, but the absence of forgiveness.
Kael stood at the edge of a broken throne.
Ashes floated through the air like slow rain.
The throne was carved from ribs and shattered oaths.
And seated upon it—
Kael.
Again.
But not as boy.
Not as flame.
Not as wrath.
This version wore silence like a second skin. No crown. No gauntlet. No emotion.
His eyes were void.
His voice came like wind across graves.
> "You've come."
Kael circled the throne.
> "You are what I left buried."
> "No," the Mirror-Kael said. "I am what rose when you looked away."
The throne pulsed.
Kael could see the bodies now.
Sovereigns.
Guardians.
Friends.
All dead at this Kael's hand.
Not for justice.
Not for rage.
For necessity.
> "I made the world work," the mirror-Kael said. "I made it bow."
> "At what cost?"
> "Only everything that didn't matter."
---
They stood face to face.
One forged through vengeance, tempered by fire.
The other—born from the logical, ruthless core left behind in ruin.
Kael asked:
> "Why are you still here?"
> "Because you still lie to yourself," the Mirror-Kael replied.
Kael's jaw tightened.
> "About what?"
The Mirror-Kael smiled without warmth.
> "That you can save what broke you."
A long silence followed.
Then—
Kael drew closer.
> "I'm not here to save anything."
> "Then why stand before me?"
> "To choose."
---
And he did.
Kael raised his palm, the Primordial Brand glowing bright.
The Mirror-Kael didn't resist.
He nodded, once.
> "Then take me."
The two versions blurred.
And for one agonizing moment—
Kael felt everything.
The guilt. The hunger. The ambition. The cold clarity. The unbearable tenderness buried beneath ash.
And he emerged—
Whole.
Not purified.
Not redeemed.
United.
---
Back in the real world, the mirror exploded.
The chain-scriptures vaporized.
The Mournspire Sect fell to their knees—not in worship, but in fear.
Because what stepped out of that mirror…
was not Kael.
It was what Kael allowed himself to become.
---
> "Your god has returned," one elder whispered.
> "No," Kael said as he passed them.
> "Your reckoning has."