The night bled into morning, though time was fickle in the Loom Chamber. When Ahri finally stirred, she found herself staring into one of the lesser weaves—a shallow reflection thread. These were not fate itself, but glimpses of possible echoes, mirror images of what might have been.
Her hand hovered over it, uncertain. She remembered Elder Baek's warning: To peer too long into reflection is to invite fracture. But temptation outweighed fear.
The thread pulsed as her fingers brushed it. A surface shimmered, and suddenly she was no longer in the chamber but looking into a mirrored world.
She saw herself—not as Threadseer, but as something else. A wanderer, free of burden, laughing with people she could not recognize but felt she had always known. No Loom, no silence, no unraveling destinies. Just life.
Her breath caught. The sight was intoxicating, and for a moment she stepped closer, drawn to the possibility that she had been denied.
But the mirrored Ahri turned. Her eyes locked onto Ahri's with unnatural precision, as though aware she was being watched. Her lips curled into a smile—too sharp, too knowing.
"Do you envy me?" the reflection asked.
Ahri stumbled back, her heart racing. The mirror-world should not speak. Echoes never spoke.
The reflection leaned closer against the invisible barrier. "If you want to be me, all you must do is cut. One thread. Your own."
The chamber quaked, threads vibrating with agitation. Jin appeared instantly at her side, his voice a fierce whisper. "Step back, Ahri. Now."
She obeyed, retreating from the reflection. As she did, the image distorted, cracking like glass. The mirrored Ahri's smile twisted into a grimace of rage before shattering into strands of nothingness.
The chamber stilled. Jin's voice lingered, edged with warning. "Some reflections are not of what could be, but of what waits if you falter."
Ahri pressed a trembling hand to her chest. She no longer felt envy, only fear.