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 fight its way back?
I whispered the words to myself as I stared into the basin mirror — cracked and slightly fogged with my breath.
My reflection blinked back at me. Calm. Unmoving. Unchanged.
Not Delmira.
Not Elira either.
Just a shell, waiting.
---
Pain Coversion: 63%
System dormant.
Ashbind resonance: stable.
No skill unlocked.
Still quiet.
Still locked.
But the silence felt heavier than usual.
Like something was holding its breath.
---
Clarisse shoved the door open without knocking.
She never knocked.
Her face was the usual mask — tired and unimpressed.
"Another letter," she said flatly, tossing a folded piece of parchment onto the table. "No seal. Probably more useless nonsense from whoever still thinks you're interesting."
I didn't answer. That usually annoyed her more than words.
She stared at me for a heartbeat longer.
Then: "Try not to lose your mind up here. It's already hard enough pretending you're worth feeding."
She shut the door harder than necessary.
---
The paper was rough. Unmarked. Handwritten.
Just five words:
Root cellar. Midnight. Come alone.
No signature.
But my hand warmed the second I touched the ink.
Not from heat.
From recognition .
---
The hours bled together after that.
I didn't eat. I didn't lie down.
Clarisse didn't return.
I waited in stillness, legs curled under me on the cold floorboards, breathing through the pulse that now thudded softly in the center of my palm — exactly where I held the note.
---
Midnight came with no fanfare.
I slipped out silently, the manor asleep under layers of old guilt and peeling paint.
I moved past the overgrown herb beds, behind the crumbling garden wall, until I reached it:
The sealed cellar door, hidden under an ivy-choked arch behind the abandoned greenhouse.
Old. Forgotten.
But not empty.
---
The wood groaned when I pulled it open.
Cool air spilled out — thick, moss-damp, heavy with silence.
I climbed down the narrow stone steps, boots scraping against worn rock.
At the bottom, a dim glow flickered.
A lantern sat on a barrel.
And beside it — a woman.
---
She stood still.
Unhooded. Cloaked in grey. Her face clean and sharp, her eyes the color of burnt glass.
I stopped a few feet away.
We stared at each other.
She spoke first.
"I wasn't sure you'd come."
"I nearly didn't," I said honestly.
"But you did."
---
She studied me like I was a map.
Or a weapon.
Or both.
"You've felt it, haven't you?" she asked.
"The mirror. The pull. The weight of someone else's life behind your eyes."
I nodded.
"I see her," I whispered. "When I'm not supposed to."
She stepped forward and unrolled a bundle of cloth.
Inside: a shard of black crystal, curved and gleaming faintly red — like old embers.
---
"This is part of the Ashbind system," she said. "It was tied to her. To Delmira. It may still respond to you — if it chooses."
"What happens if I take it?"
"You remember more," she said quietly. "And memory has a price."
---
Pain conversion: 63%
System static.
Ashbind resonance: rising.
No skill unlocked.
---
I reached for the shard.
The second it touched my skin, it pulsed.
My fingers burned.
Not physically.
But somewhere deeper — as if I'd pressed against a flame that lived in another life.
---
The woman watched carefully.
"You're stable," she murmured. "That's… unexpected."
"Who are you?"
"Someone who served her. In another name. In another life."
"Delmira?"
She nodded once.
"You look nothing like her," she said. "But the fire doesn't lie."
---
A deep clang sounded above us — a bell.
Late patrol.
She stiffened.
"They're watching now. You shouldn't stay long."
I clutched the shard in my palm.
"One more question," I said.
"Ask."
"If the pain reaches a hundred…"
Her expression flickered.
Careful. Guarded.
"I don't know what happens," she said finally. "But if you're still asking questions by then… you won't be the same person who started this."
---
I turned toward the steps.
She didn't stop me.
But before I left, she said one last thing:
"Even if they changed your face… Solvane remembers the scent of ash. And so does the throne."