The council chamber of the Accord was silent.
Twelve figures in white robes stood in a circle of etched stone. Their faces were hidden behind mirrored masks, each engraved with a single ancient rune.
In the center stood Erynn.
Unarmed.
Alone.
Calren's voice echoed through the hall. "The Trial of Fractures is not punishment. It is truth. If the Balance Rune lives within you, then let it speak."
Erynn's voice cracked. "And if it doesn't?"
"Then the mirror will show your true self. And we will act accordingly."
---
The floor lit beneath his feet, forming a web of glowing symbols. A circle of mirrors rose around him, suspended in the air, slowly rotating. Each reflected not his body—but fragments of memory, dream, and fear.
In one mirror: his village burning.
In another: Serenya holding the Sixth Tablet, tears in her eyes.
In a third: the Hollowfire King, whispering, "You are my heir."
The mirrors began to spin faster. The light grew harsher. Erynn fell to his knees, clutching his head.
"Stop—please—"
But the rune in his chest pulsed.
And the mirrors shattered.
---
The chamber exploded with light and wind.
From the shards rose seven reflections—versions of Erynn, each flickering with different runes:
One cloaked in fire, eyes wild with rage.
One made of shadow, silent and watching.
One bound in chains, whispering apologies.
One laughing, drunk on power.
One crying, covered in blood.
One blank-eyed, empty.
And one… wearing a crown.
The real Erynn gasped. "What are they?"
Calren stepped back. "They are you."
---
The reflections surged forward.
They didn't attack—but surrounded him, whispering.
"Let us take over."
"You are too weak."
"We'll keep you safe."
"We'll finish what they started."
Erynn tried to block them out—but the rune on his chest blazed, and he felt his limbs weaken. The reflections weren't illusions.
They were his choices.
Each one, a path.
---
He fell backward into the central mirror.
And landed… somewhere else.
---
Inside the mirror realm, time didn't exist. He stood in a frozen wasteland, sky cracked like glass. At the center: a massive obsidian monolith, carved with all seven Runes.
A figure waited beside it.
Serenya.
But her eyes were wrong—black with violet flame.
"Hello, Erynn," she said. "You're catching up."
He stepped back. "You're not her."
"No," the thing said. "I'm what you'll become if you keep pretending you can balance the unbalanced."
It touched the monolith.
And it opened.
Inside, chained in ice, was the original Balance Rune—a living being, bound in runic chains, eyes closed.
It looked like… him.
---
Erynn screamed.
And woke up.
---
He was lying in the center of the chamber. The mirrors were gone. The council stared in stunned silence.
Then Maerin spoke, her voice trembling for the first time.
"What did you see?"
Erynn sat up slowly, heart thundering.
"Myself," he said.
"But not just me."
---
To be continued…