I didn't stop running.
Not even when the night turned to frost and my feet could no longer feel the ground. Not even when I collapsed on the crumbled stairway outside the East Tower ruin, with blood smeared across my palms and ash clinging to my lips like a second mouth.
I lay there, face pressed to the cold stone, heart still galloping, lungs refusing to slow.
The world around me was still.
But inside?
Inside, something had cracked.
Not broken.
Just… unsealed.
---
Pain conversion:62%
System remains dormant. No new skill available.
System imprint stabilizing.
I couldn't move.
Not out of exhaustion—though gods, I was tired—but because every breath I took reminded me of what I had seen inside that vault.
The mirror .
Her face.
Mine.
And the voice inside that called me queen.
It had smiled.
And now, I couldn't unhear it.
---
I must have passed out again, because when I opened my eyes, the sky was turning grey. The stars were gone, and the bell tower across the courtyard had begun its mournful chime. The fifth bell.
I'd been gone all night.
And I hadn't been missed.
Or perhaps, they were simply waiting to see who came back.
---
I dragged myself upright, wincing at the stiffness in my limbs. My cloak was torn, and my hands were bloodied with small cuts from shattered mirror glass. My right shoulder throbbed where the knight-commander's blade had nearly found its mark.
But it wasn't the injuries that unnerved me.
It was the quiet.
The unnatural sort, like the city itself was watching me now.
---
I slipped through the back gardens into the servant's wing. Clarisse was in the kitchen, arms elbow-deep in grain sacks. She glanced up as I entered.
"You look like death," she said plainly.
"Feels worse than it looks."
She scoffed. "They're looking for a woman who trespassed near the East Tower ruins. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
I didn't answer. She didn't wait for one.
"There's talk of sorcery now. Strange light. A quake under the ground. Something's been unearthed."
Yes.
Something had.
---
Back in my attic room, I locked the door behind me and collapsed onto the wooden floorboards. They creaked beneath my weight, as if even they could sense what I'd become.
I peeled back my sleeve. The skin near my wrist was darkened — not with bruise or blood, but with something deeper. A faint line of grey ash had traced itself along a vein, curling up my arm like a brand.
I touched it.
It was cold.
---
I curled up on the floor and stared at the ceiling until sleep finally came. When it did, it wasn't rest.
It was memory.
Not mine.
Hers.
---
In the dream, I was standing in a throne room.
But I was not alone.
Dozens of nobles lined the walls — all with their faces turned away.
The man on the throne wore a crown of iron thorns.
Kaelen.
And at his feet… was me.
Kneeling. Bound. Hair soaked in oil.
The court watched as he stepped down and kissed my forehead.
Then he whispered, "You were never mine."
And lit the torch.
---
I awoke screaming.
Hands trembling. Mouth dry. Breath uneven.
The air smelled faintly of burnt wood.
My fingers were stained black again.
I stumbled to the wash basin, scrubbing them furiously, but the ash didn't fade.
It was no longer just on my skin.
It was in me.
---
Pain conversion: 63%
System imprint: steady. No new skill unlocked.
Instability: minor. Dream-bleed active.
Dream-bleed.
Is that what they called it?
I called it being haunted by myself.
---
A knock came at the door.
I tensed, ready for guards.
But it was Clarisse.
"Come quick," she hissed. "There's a message for you. From the palace."
My stomach sank.
I followed her down the narrow steps, heart hammering in my chest.
A scroll waited for me on the table. Sealed in red wax. No crest.
I broke it.
Four words, written in tight ink:
"The Mirror Was Moved."
---
No name. No sender.
But I knew.
The woman from the archive.
She was still watching me.
And she wanted me to keep going.
---
I folded the scroll and shoved it into my bodice, chest still heaving.
They think they buried the mirror.
They think the queen is dead.
But if they had truly destroyed me—
Then why does my reflection still fights its way back?