The morning after her visit to the hidden heart chamber, Seraphina couldn't bring herself to look in the mirror.
Not because she feared what she would see—but because she finally knew what it meant.
She wasn't simply a woman reborn.
She was a woman replicated.
Her soul had not returned to right a wrong. It had been cycled, repeated, perhaps even stored. The question was not how she had come back—but why the house kept bringing her back at all.
Lucien stood in the hallway outside her chamber, arms folded, silent. He hadn't spoken a word since she gave him the locket.
He looked at her now not with suspicion—but with something harder to endure.
Recognition.
And yet, not quite remembrance.
He had been there in that first life—bound in chains, no older than a boy. A prisoner. A shadow. A part of her curse?
"I'm not angry," he finally said.
Seraphina blinked. "Then what are you?"
Lucien looked away. "Afraid."
She nodded slowly. "So am I."
He didn't ask why.
Because he already knew.
Later that day, Seraphina walked the upper halls alone. She traced her fingers across the walls as if hoping the stone would whisper more stories, more lost lives, more pieces of herself.
Instead, the silence greeted her.
Too quiet.
Until—
"Thief."
A child's voice.
It echoed faintly through the corridor.
Seraphina stopped cold.
"Who's there?"
No reply.
She followed the sound—each step sharper than the last—until she reached the mirror gallery.
There, the third mirror on the left shimmered.
A girl stood inside it.
Not a reflection.
An echo.
She looked about eight years old.
White gown. Barefoot. A soft blue ribbon tied around her neck.
Her eyes were a haunting violet.
Seraphina's knees went weak.
It was her.
The first Seraphina.
Not in theory.
Not in memory.
But real. Frozen in mirrorlight.
"You wore my name," the girl said.
"I didn't know it was yours," Seraphina whispered.
"You didn't ask."
"I didn't remember."
The child's eyes were hollow. "That's what they always say."
Seraphina stepped forward. "How many of us are there?"
"Enough to fill this hall. Enough to make the stones remember."
The girl pressed a hand to the glass.
"I was the first they sacrificed. But not the first they broke."
Seraphina's throat tightened. "Why did they choose you?"
"They didn't. I chose them." The child's voice grew fainter. "And then they changed the bargain."
Seraphina reached for the mirror, but it was ice to the touch.
The girl's voice cracked like glass. "If you want to end this, don't break the curse. Bury the name."
Seraphina's breath caught. "My name?"
"Mine. Yours. Ours." The girl faded. "Names are how they remember you."
The mirror went still.
Only Seraphina's reflection remained.
But now—she didn't know whose face she was wearing.
That night, Seraphina returned to the heart chamber.
Alone.
Again.
Lucien didn't ask this time. He had begun to understand some doors were meant to be opened alone.
She descended the spiral stairs and stood once more before the floating heart.
But this time—she didn't speak.
She removed the pendant from around her neck and placed it on the pedestal.
The heart responded immediately—its pulse quickening, the chains glowing brighter.
A new voice echoed in the chamber.
Older. Male.
"You are not the first.""But you may be the last.""The name binds the soul.""But the soul has begun to rot."
Seraphina closed her eyes.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Unbind it. Give it no anchor."
She understood.
The curse wasn't magic anymore.
It was memory.
As long as someone remembered "Seraphina," the cycle continued.
She returned to her chamber in silence.
Lucien was waiting.
She sat beside him.
"I'm thinking of changing my name," she said quietly.
He turned to her. "To what?"
"I don't know yet. But not hers. Not the first's. Not the one tied to fire and mirrors."
He watched her for a long moment.
"I'll still know who you are."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe that's all I need."
But as she blew out the candle that night, her mirror glowed faintly.
Not with fire.
But with mourning.
And on the surface, just before it dimmed, a word appeared—scrawled in silver fog:
"Don't forget me.
..................
The curse began with a name.If she dares to bury it—Will she lose herself, or finally be free?