The world behind the mirror was not made of stone.
Nor of sand.
It was made of broken time.
—
When Kael crossed through, he felt a pressure in his bones — as if his body was being stretched between a thousand possibilities.
Beside him, the witches staggered, struggling to stay upright.
— Where are we? — Elizabeth murmured.
— Inside ourselves, — Kael answered, scanning the surroundings.
—
The space was a vast gray void, where fragments of memories, choices, and fears floated like shards of broken glass.
Each fragment showed something:
A life that could have been.
A choice never made.
A forgotten shadow.
—
Suddenly, distorted versions of themselves began to take form.
Kael saw himself in black armor, his gaze hollow, leading armies of shadows.
Helena saw herself as a fanatic priestess, sacrificing lives for "order."
Marie saw herself alone, aged and bitter, consumed by disillusionment.
Each vision tried to seduce them.
> "Accept. Forget yourself. Become who you could have been."
The voices whispered, sweet as poison.
—
Kael clenched his fists.
— We are not what we could have been.
— We are what we chose to be!
His voice ripped through the void.
The visions trembled.
—
Nikita attacked her own shadow, cutting it with a blade of pure will.
Patricia screamed against the image of her loss.
Claudia destroyed the life that tried to ensnare her with a single glare.
The witches resisted.
Kael resisted.
—
At the center of the void, the reverse mirror pulsed.
A new message echoed:
> "Only those who carry their own echoes may pass."
Kael advanced.
Not denying who he could have been.
But carrying the memory of who he chose to be.
Light tore through the void.
And they crossed.