The rain started around midnight.
It wasn't gentle. It came down like a curse—sheets of water hammering the earth, slicing through trees, drenching everything in seconds. I sat awake beneath the thin canvas of our travel tent, watching rivulets snake through the seams. Each drop, a drumbeat echoing my thoughts.
Shira slept beside me—arms crossed, blade still sheathed but always near. She didn't snore, didn't shift. Just breathed. Steady. Calm. I envied her.
I couldn't sleep. Not after what the temple revealed.
Not after the seal whispered: Choose.
Choose what?
Between Lyara and myself? Between freedom and fate? Between destruction and mercy?
I pressed my palm to my chest, hoping to feel heat, a flicker of power where the shard had pulsed days before.
But there was only skin. Only breath. Only doubt.
Lightning split the sky. One… two…
Thunder cracked.
I unlaced the tent flap and stepped out, barefoot. The cold mud swallowed my steps, but I didn't care. The air buzzed—thick with tension, like a held breath before a scream.
I wandered toward the stream.
There, the water reflected Lyara's face. But tonight… it felt wrong.
It blinked—before I did.
Then it smiled.
A smile without warmth. Without soul.
I stumbled back, slipping in the mud. My breath caught.
When I dared to look again, the water stilled. My reflection returned. Normal.
But something in me had shifted.
By the time I crawled back into the tent, soaked and shaking, I felt it—the air was different now. Watched. Warped. Waiting.
Shira stirred. "What happened?"
I couldn't explain being haunted by my own stolen face. "There was… something. At the stream."
"A vision?" she asked, reaching for the bone charm at her neck.
"Maybe. Or a warning."
Her gaze sharpened. "They say the Mirror curse grows stronger the closer we get to the fulcrum."
I frowned. "Fulcrum?"
"The point where the soul was split. If we're heading south—toward the heartlands—then yes. You're getting closer."
"To what?"
"To truth," she said. "Or madness."
I closed my eyes. "Maybe I've been unraveling since the day I woke in Lyara's skin."
Silence fell again. Not cold—just tired. She said no more. But I knew she was watching me as I drifted, half-asleep, into a darkness that didn't feel like sleep.
---------
By late morning, we reached the Southern Tribes' first outpost. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained bruised—like it hadn't finished grieving.
The outpost was less village, more fortress.
Stone towers. Palisades. Guards in copper with red braided sashes. A banner flew high: a horned bird flying through fire.
I didn't recognize it. But Arven did.
He met us at the gate—dry, armored, surrounded by two lieutenants.
"I see you survived," he said flatly.
"Barely," I muttered. "You could've warned us about the storm."
He shrugged. "Southern Kaereth isn't kind to travelers."
He led us through rows of envoy tents, black and gold flapping in the wet wind. The command tent was warm with maps and smoke. He gestured for me to sit.
"We received word," he said. "The southern chieftains agreed to meet."
"Which ones?"
"The dangerous ones," he said, almost smiling.
"And they want?"
"Respect. Trade. Mostly, they want us gone."
I glanced at Shira. She said nothing, but her presence beside me was solid as stone.jh-&
Arven's eyes landed on me. "They've heard of your… silence. They want to see if the general's daughter can speak for herself."
Of course. This wasn't just diplomacy.
This was theater. A test. A trap.
"And if I fail?"
"Then we silence them permanently," he said, too casually.
"Charming," I replied
"This is still war," he murmured. "The weapons just look different."
----------
That night, I stood outside camp.
The stars were finally visible, pale and scattered across a wounded sky. I traced constellations I once knew from Solmira—half of them gone.
Like the rest of me.
But something moved.
Not animal. Not man.
Just... presence.
It didn't breathe like a beast. It didn't twitch like a spy. It simply was. Rooted in the dark, tall as a god, silent as death.
I gripped my dagger.
"Who's there?"
No answer.
No sound.
Even the crickets had gone still.
Then it stepped forward.
Tall. Wrong.
Its limbs bent at angles that made my stomach twist.
Its face—gods, its face—was a blank bone mask, smooth and veined like marble.
No mouth. No eyes. Just stillness.
The air hummed—like magic trying to hold itself in.
It tilted its head.
Like it recognized me. Like it was waiting.
I turned and ran.
---------
Shira was the first to spot me stumbling into camp. Sword half-drawn, eyes sharp.
"There's something—east perimeter," I gasped. "It's not Kaereth. Not human."
Arven stormed out moments later.
"Scout?"
"Scouts don't hum," I snapped.
That made him still.
He exchanged a glance with Shira. Then, softly: "Wake the mages. Double the watch."
Shira asked what I didn't dare: "You think it's one of them?"
He didn't answer.
But the way his hands clenched told me enough.
----------
By dawn, the forest looked normal again.
I didn't trust it.
We broke camp. The summit would begin by midmorning. I wore Lyara's ceremonial armor—a bronze corset over woven leather, crimson cloak clasped tight. It felt like costume and coffin in one.
As I mounted my horse, Arven rode beside me.
"What exactly did you see?"
"I don't know," I whispered. "But it saw me."
He exhaled slowly. "If it's one of the Forgotten… we may have more than tribal rebellion on our hands."
"Forgotten?"
He looked surprised. "Lyara knew about them. Old spirits. Echoes from the magic wars. Some say they wait at the edge of dead kingdoms."
"And if I woke one?
He gave a hollow laugh. "Then I hope you know how to lull it back to sleep."
--------
The Southern chieftains' camp was vibrant. Bright tents. Warriors with painted faces. Children watching with unreadable eyes.
Shira stood beside me. Arven led.
But it was me they stared at.
The chieftain—a tall woman with antlers braided into silver hair—stepped forward.
"I am Chief Halai of the Ashen Tribes," she said.
Then, stepping closer, she touched my chre are two in you."
Everyone froze.
The tent went still.
And I knew.
They didn't just see Lyara.
They saw me.
Both of us.
And the Mirror inside me pulsed.
—------