The Ashline Promenade flickered with firelight and golden thread-lanterns, strung high across the streets like veins of sunlight stitched into the dark.
Hundreds of floating glyph-lights hovered above the festival crowd, pulsing softly with each spoken wish. Somewhere, someone was playing a reed-horn; the music curled through the air like incense, weaving through the sounds of laughter, sizzling meat, and clicking vendor tokens.
Kael had always hated crowds.
But tonight…
"You're smiling," Liora said, her tone playful.
She bumped his arm with hers, and he realized he was. Not a full grin — Kael never grinned — but something close. Something earned.
Senna was already darting ahead of them through the crowd, weaving around a pair of kids wearing paper beast-masks. Her braid bounced behind her like a dancer's ribbon, and her laughter hit Kael like a clean raid strike — fast, sharp, and somewhere deep in the center of his chest.
"Papa!" she called, waving a skewer in the air. "They've got ricefruit sticks!"
Liora laughed under her breath.
"That's the third one she's spotted."
"We'll buy the cleanest-looking one," Kael murmured. "And pretend it's different."
She slid her hand into his.
And for just a moment, Kael forgot about the cracks still faintly glowing under the bandages on his wrist. The ones he kept hidden from both of them.
They walked beneath a tapestry of floating lanterns. Each one bore a scribbled glyph, or a child's wish, or just a name too long lost to remember. Senna stared up at them with open-mouthed awe.
"What's yours say?" she asked, tugging on Liora's sleeve.
Liora smiled and tilted her lantern just enough for Senna to see: a single clean glyph for shelter — protection, not power.
"Mine's boring," she said.
"Mine's got dragons," Senna declared proudly, showing hers. It was… mostly dragons. And a lot of green crayon. Possibly a tree. Maybe a cloud.
Kael's was still blank.
He stared at it for a second, then finally etched a single glyph near the base. One no one in the crowd would recognize.
Not protection.
Not hope.
A stabilization rune. One used to delay collapse.
Liora saw it.
Said nothing.
But her fingers squeezed his.
As the lanterns were lit one by one and began to rise into the night, Senna danced in circles, chasing shadows.
"Papa," she said breathlessly, "Can we do this every cycle?"
Kael crouched down beside her, pulled her close.
"If we're lucky."
She frowned, as if confused.
Then:
"You're glowing again."
Kael froze.
Liora looked sharply at him — at his covered arms, at his face — then gently turned Senna's head toward the sky.
"That's just the lanterns, baby. They glow on everyone."
Senna squinted.
Then shrugged.
"Still pretty."
Kael stood slowly.
But he didn't look up at the lights.
He looked at the glass vendor's cart just across the street — and at the warped reflection flickering in the surface of a mirrored dish.
It smiled too early.
And did not stop when he turned away.
The mirror stall was elegant — all curves and etched silver frames, each polished surface catching firelight like it was holding tiny suns. Dozens of glass orbs hung overhead, turning with the crowd's slow tide. Reflections swam and twisted, merged and parted.
Kael had no intention of stopping.
But the image caught him.
Half a step past the stall, he paused — turned his head, casually.
There he was.
In the third oval mirror on the left.
Standing completely still.
Face expressionless.
Arms limp at his side.
And not blinking.
Kael narrowed his eyes.
His reflection blinked.
But a half-second too late.
Like it had been reminded.
"Papa, look!"
Senna barreled into his side, holding a glowing leaf charm and a half-eaten fruit stick, both hands sticky and proud.
He turned to her, forced a smile.
"That's a good one."
When he glanced back at the mirror—
His reflection was back to normal.
Same expression.
Same slight tilt of the head.
But a second ago, it hadn't been smiling at all.
"Liora," he said softly.
She had drifted toward a rack of wind-chimes, but turned at the sound of his voice — caught his expression instantly.
She walked over, voice quiet.
"What did you see?"
He didn't answer.
Just nodded slightly toward the mirror.
Liora glanced over — just a moment, just long enough.
Then back at him.
"We don't talk about it here."
Not "nothing's there."
Not "you're imagining it."
Just don't talk.
Kael clenched his jaw, gaze fixed on the glass.
The air around the mirror shimmered faintly — not from heat. Something else.
Threadlines.
Barely visible to the eye — but to someone who'd patched a zone before, they were unmistakable.
The mirror had been touched.
Opened.
And whoever — whatever — had come through…
Had chosen his face.
"I'll walk on your left," Liora said, already moving into position beside him.
"You'll tell me later."
Kael didn't respond.
But he stayed between her and the mirrors the rest of the way through the festival street.
The rooftop courtyard where the lanterns were released was high enough above the street to catch the wind — cool and dry, edged with the scent of spiced tea and smoke from nearby stalls.
Children clustered near the railings, clinging to their glowing paper lanterns like they were magical pets waiting to be set free.
Senna had picked one shaped like a bird.
Bright green.
Slightly lopsided.
She'd drawn swirls on the wings in crayon — and just beneath its tail, a single glyph, carved carefully into the paper.
Kael froze when he saw it.
Not a doodle.
Not a guess.
A real glyph.
A stabilization mark.
Primitive. Sloppy. But functional.
The kind of glyph used to delay collapse in unstable zones. Ones Kael had patched manually. Ones that shouldn't be anywhere near a child's imagination.
"Where did you learn that?" he asked, quiet, calm.
Senna blinked up at him.
"It was in the air."
He crouched down slowly.
"In the air?"
She nodded, finger still on the glyph.
"Sometimes it's floating. Like a bug. And sometimes it just… sticks to things. I saw it on your arm once, Papa. I remembered it."
Kael swallowed.
His skin prickled.
"She saw it."
Liora knelt beside them, voice soft but firm.
"Senna, sweetheart… you don't have to draw those anymore, okay?"
"But it's for him," she said simply. "So he doesn't fall apart again."
The words hit like a punch.
Kael said nothing.
When it was time to light the lanterns, Senna held hers close, eyes bright with excitement.
"I want Papa to be safe forever," she whispered to the flame.
Then let go.
The bird-shaped lantern caught the wind perfectly, sailing upward like it belonged there — vanishing into the bloom of gold and orange filling the night sky.
Liora lit hers next, lips pressed in prayer but no words spoken.
Kael's was last.
He lit it.
Watched it lift.
Watched it rise.
Watched it dim.
His didn't glow.
Not like the others.
It flickered once… then stabilized.
Held its form perfectly.
Rigid. Controlled.
As if it had been patched mid-air.
"Papa?" Senna asked, eyes wide.
"Why didn't yours sparkle?"
Kael smiled softly.
"It's just tired. Like me."
The crowd had thinned now, the lanterns drifting higher into the night. Some children still ran between stalls, chasing fire-thread sparklers. Liora walked a few steps ahead, clutching a folded blanket of festival trinkets.
Kael walked slower.
His eyes never stopped scanning.
Every glass pane.
Every puddle.
Every window darkened by height.
They had left the festival proper — but the city still reflected.
Too much.
"Papa?"
Senna's voice was too small. Too sharp.
Kael turned.
She had stopped in front of a stall — a merchant selling polished serving dishes. The kind that caught every nearby glow like a lake trying to remember the sky.
Senna pointed, not at the vendor, not at the food.
At the mirror.
"Why is that man wearing your face?"
Kael stepped beside her.
Slow.
Careful.
In the curved reflection of the largest silver platter, he saw himself.
Face neutral.
Hands loose at his side.
His daughter beside him — her hair wild, cheek smudged from food.
But something was wrong.
His own head was tilted slightly.
His arms were straighter.
His eyes—
They were open. Staring directly at him.
Kael didn't move.
The reflection didn't either.
For a full second, they held each other's gaze.
Then — as if remembering a stage cue — the mimic blinked.
Too late.
Too slow.
And when it smiled, it was all teeth.
Wide. Too wide.
Like a mask stretching its limit.
Kael stepped forward fast.
The merchant jumped.
"Hey—!"
But Kael didn't care.
He slammed his hand down on the table beside the platter.
The reflection didn't flinch.
It only raised its own hand — mimicking the movement — half a second too late.
Senna clutched his sleeve, eyes wide.
"Papa…"
The surface cracked.
A thin line, from edge to edge.
Not from Kael's pressure.
The platter itself fractured, like something had pulled from the inside.
A spiderweb of glyphlines flickered through the split for just a breath. Then vanished.
And the image — the mimic — was gone.
Kael stepped back.
Liora had returned, her voice tight with quiet fear.
"What did she see?"
"Me," Kael said.
He turned to Liora — just enough to keep his voice low.
"And not me."
Senna looked up at both of them.
"Was he a twin?"
Kael crouched and pulled her into a tight hug.
"No, little light."
"Then how did he know your face?"
Kael didn't answer.
Liora did.
"Because Papa's too bright. And sometimes… things try to wear the light."
The streets on the way home were quieter now.
Most of the crowd had thinned. Paper lanterns still floated above the rooftops — flickering gently in slow drifts like fireflies forgetting where to land.
Senna had fallen asleep on Kael's back, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. One of her hands still clutched the stick from her last ricefruit, sticky fingers curled like she was protecting something precious.
Kael carried her like she weighed nothing.
But every step… felt heavier.
Not because of her.
Because of what he couldn't explain to either of them.
Because she had seen a glyph.
Drawn it from memory.
And named it as his protection.
Liora walked beside him in silence.
She hadn't asked for details.
She didn't need to.
Every few steps, she glanced sideways — into shop windows, puddles, dark metal vents.
Anywhere a reflection could linger.
Kael noticed.
He said nothing.
They reached their building just as the last lantern dimmed overhead.
Kael adjusted Senna on his back and reached for the lock rune on their gate.
But Liora paused.
Her hand stopped halfway to the key crystal on her necklace.
She turned, slowly — looking back toward the alley behind them.
Kael followed her gaze.
Nothing there.
Just shadow.
Stone.
And a window — third floor. Shattered corner. Dark.
Too high for someone to stand behind.
But Liora's voice was soft, certain.
"It shimmered."
Kael looked again.
Still nothing.
Still dark.
But he didn't doubt her.
"Inside?" he asked.
"No. Not behind the glass."
She met his eyes.
"Inside the glass."
Kael's pulse didn't spike.
His hand didn't tremble.
But something in his mind folded in, and folded again — like paper collapsing into a seal.
They had always come from gates before.
From anomalies.
Breaches.
But now…
"They know where we live."