The world was quiet. No wind. No sky. No sound.
Isaac opened his eyes and found himself standing in a long corridor of mirrors. Each wall reflected him, but not as he was—each reflection showed a different version of him. Some older, some younger. Some cloaked in golden light. Others soaked in blood and shadow.
He spun slowly, unnerved. "Where am I?"
A soft voice echoed behind him. His own voice.
"You've always known."
One of the mirrors shimmered and Isaac stepped toward it.
Inside, he saw himself kneeling on a battlefield, flames consuming the land around him. His silver eye was glowing wildly, and in his hand… was a curved dagger soaked in blood. At his feet lay the broken body of someone familiar—too familiar.
Rizz.
"No," Isaac breathed. "That's not me. I wouldn't…"
"You could," the voice whispered. "If you choose wrong. If you let fear guide you. That's the truth you've buried."
The mirror shattered without warning, sending shards scattering across the ground like crystal rain. The other mirrors began to flicker, images of Isaac's possible futures swirling within them.
In one, he wore a crown made of bones.
In another, he stood alongside Rizz, their wings aligned—one of shadow, the other of fire.
And in yet another, he stood alone, surrounded by broken timelines and erased realities.
"No one told me this would happen," he muttered. "No one told me I could destroy so much."
Another voice rang out now—this one distant, ethereal.
"You are a Chrono-Variant. A soul bound by time's illusions. Your choices fracture fate. The more you doubt, the more the mirror shatters."
Isaac clenched his fists. "Then tell me what to do!"
Silence.
But the light shifted. A single mirror began to glow with golden threads, its reflection unlike the rest.
In this one, he stood calmly—not powerful, not feared—but… balanced. His silver eye and his natural one both open. Rizz stood beside him. Aethra too. Behind them was Safa, smiling faintly.
Peace.
But the path to that future was thin, and dark vines slithered toward it from every other mirror, trying to choke it.
"This is what I want," he said, stepping toward the mirror. "This future."
"Then make peace with your fear."
The golden mirror exploded—not in destruction, but in light. That light wrapped around him like a mantle. Warm. Whole. He didn't feel powerful—but he felt certain.
And then—
Everything vanished.
He was back in the ruins, on the platform. Knees shaking. The shard spun slower now, as if acknowledging something.
Rizz caught him before he fell. "What happened?"
"I saw myself," Isaac whispered. "Every version. But only one… felt right."
Before Rizz could answer, the platform pulsed again.
Another light.
A scream.
Aethra's.
The platform behind them cracked open like a fissure, and darkness burst upward like a geyser.
Rizz's wings unfolded. "She's trapped!"
Isaac rose to his feet. "We need to go in—now!"
But the shard pulsed once more—and from it, a figure emerged.
Aethra.
Her body floated forward gently. Her hair flowed unnaturally, and her eyes were closed. On her forehead, a faint symbol had appeared—an open eye crossed with a sword.
She landed softly, and Rizz rushed to her side. "Aethra, are you okay?"
She opened her eyes slowly. "I… I saw my past. All of it. The cult. The blades. The faces I tried to forget."
Isaac stepped beside them. "But you returned."
She nodded. "Not because I was strong. But because I finally let myself feel it all."
The shard stopped spinning.
A final pulse surged outward—warm and radiant.
Above them, a gate of light opened, shimmering like the surface of a divine pool.
The voice returned, now much softer.
"The mirror has chosen. Three reflections, each shattered and reforged. Go forth, and let truth guide your flame."
The gate awaited.
And as they stepped through together, something deeper stirred beneath the ruins.
Something ancient.
Something watching.
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