The mirror trembled.
Not pulsed—trembled, as if it could sense the fracture forming inside her.
Elira took a step forward.
The void beneath her feet rippled like disturbed water.
"Belief didn't save you," Malveric said sharply, his voice cutting in where her silence lingered too long. "Belief didn't stop them from letting you die."
Her jaw tightened.
"No," she said. "It didn't."
The mirror flickered again.
Elric's hands shook as he pushed himself up, blood smearing the stone beneath him. Auren had torn a broken blade from the ground, gripping it like a last prayer. The creatures circled closer—chittering, hungry.
Malveric leaned closer to Elira's ear.
"Say the word," he murmured. "Watch his heart stop. Watch the world finally kneel."
Her fingers lifted.
Hovered.
The red sigil over Elric's chest flared brighter—reacting to her proximity, her magic, her claim.
For a heartbeat—
Just one—
She imagined it.
The word on her tongue.
The silence afterward.
The crown settling onto her head like destiny restored.
And then—
Elric looked up.
Not at the monsters.
Not at death.
But straight into the mirror.
Straight at her.
His lips moved.
No sound carried through the glass.
But she knew the words anyway.
We're not done yet.
Something inside her snapped.
Not broke.
Snapped into place.
Her hand slammed against the mirror.
The sigil shattered—fracturing into sparks of red light that screamed as they dissolved.
Malveric recoiled. "What—Elira, stop—!"
"ENOUGH."
Her voice rang like thunder struck from crystal.
The mirror surged—light flooding outward, blinding, violent, alive.
The monkey-like creatures screamed as shadow tore through them, flung back by a force older than the curse itself. The ground beneath Elric and Auren cracked, glowing with protective runes—her runes.
Elric gasped as strength flooded back into his limbs.
Auren's broken sword reformed in his hand, reforged in silver flame.
In the void, Malveric staggered, his composed grin finally gone.
"You chose them," he hissed.
Elira turned slowly.
Her eyes burned—not red.
Gold.
"I didn't choose them," she said, voice steady, dangerous.
"I chose myself."
The void began to collapse around Malveric, threads of light binding his form.
"This isn't over," he snarled as the darkness dragged him back. "You can't outrun what you are."
She watched him vanish.
Then she exhaled.
Shaking.
Alive.
The mirror steadied—now clear, no longer pulsing with corruption.
Elric stood fully upright.
He pressed a hand over his heart.
Whispered her name.
Elira rested her palm against the glass.
"Don't die," she said softly. "Not today."
The mirror dimmed.
And somewhere deep within her chest, a fire—long buried—burned again.
Not for a throne.
Not for revenge.
But for a future she would fight for.