The passage ahead narrowed into a jagged corridor, its walls slick with condensation and strange mineral growths that pulsed faintly with internal light. The warm bioluminescent tones of the previous chamber had given way to a cooler, dimmer blue—like descending into the veins of some ancient, slumbering beast.
Roger ran a hand along the wall as they moved forward. "Feels like this whole place is alive," he muttered. "Breathing."
Kai nodded, eyes scanning the shifting runes embedded in the rock. "It's not just a feeling. The air pressure's shifting. Like a lung filling and emptying. There's a rhythm."
Aria's grip on her sword tightened. "That means something's waiting for us."
The Director walked ahead with the silent confidence of someone who had already anticipated this. "Not something," he said softly. "A threshold."
Roger raised an eyebrow. "You're being cryptic again."
"Because this isn't just another chamber," the Director said. "This is the floor's end."
The corridor abruptly opened into a spherical chamber lined with smooth obsidian-like stone. At the center sat a massive stone heart—beating. Each pulse sent a slow, vibrating hum through the ground. Vines of rune-thread wrapped around it like arteries, feeding it with glowing symbols that danced and changed constantly.
Kai let out a soft gasp. "It's alive. That's… it's a living artifact."
Aria circled the stone, eyes narrowed. "Or a gatekeeper."
Roger approached, orb drawn, energy humming at his palm. "So what's the test?"
The Director turned, expression unreadable. "Endings are tests of memory. Let's see what it remembers of us."
The relic still pulsed faintly within Kai's satchel as they continued deeper into the caverns. Its glow filtered through the fabric like a heartbeat—gentle, steady, ancient. The air around them grew warmer, denser, as if the Pit itself were breathing in anticipation.
The narrow corridor curved sharply, then widened into a chamber unlike any they'd encountered. Gone were the stalactites and moss-covered walls—here, smooth obsidian stretched floor to ceiling, unmarred by time or erosion. In the center of the chamber floated a single object: a massive metallic sphere suspended by invisible force, its surface etched with intertwining runes that shifted like living ink.
Roger immediately moved in front of the group, his hand going to the orb at his belt. "That thing isn't just decoration."
"No," the Director said softly. "It's watching us."
The floating sphere pulsed, a wave of pressure rippling through the room. Kai stumbled, clutching his head.
"Kai?" Aria reached for him, but the Director raised a hand, halting her.
"It's begun," he said. "This is a Soulmirror. A guardian left behind by the builders of the Pit. It reads us—our minds, our intentions."
Roger narrowed his eyes. "Reads us for what?"
"To decide whether we move forward… or become part of its collection."
A low hum filled the chamber, and with a flicker of light, the Soulmirror split into three reflections—floating images of the trio who had approached: Kai, Roger, and Aria. But these weren't true mirrors.
Each reflection twisted.
Kai's double smiled with golden eyes and whispered thoughts Kai hadn't voiced aloud in years. Roger's stood heavier, scarred, eyes hollow. Aria's wore no expression—just a blade where her face should be.
The Director did not appear.
Not yet.
"I need to focus," he said quietly, stepping back to the edge of the chamber. "You three must face it first. This trial is not one of strength or skill. It's of identity."
Kai's knees shook. "What… what does it want?"
"To know," the Director said. "What you regret. What you are. What you will become."
The air was heavy with silence.
The Soulmirror.
It hovered silently, a pane of silvered glass framed in carved obsidian, turning ever so slightly in the stale air. Its surface rippled with a strange light, not a reflection of the chamber—but something deeper, older.
Aria was already stepping forward. "Then let's not waste time."
"Wait," the Director said, gently. "It must be one at a time. And once you begin, there's no stepping back."
Aria hesitated, then nodded. "Then I'll go first."
As she stepped into the circle around the pedestal, the mirror pulsed once with a soft chime. The room dimmed, the air thickening as if the mirror were inhaling the very light around it. Her reflection twisted, becoming something else entirely.
---
She stood on a scorched battlefield. Bodies lay in twisted heaps. Soot and ash clung to her armor. Her sword was heavy, its edge red.
Across from her, another Aria knelt—broken, defeated, eyes hollow.
"You promised you'd protect them," the kneeling Aria whispered. "You led them into slaughter."
"We did what we had to do," Aria replied, but the words felt empty.
The mirror-Aria stood, blood trailing from her palm. "You crave control because you're afraid. Afraid that if you let go—someone else dies. That you're just a weapon waiting to fail."
Aria raised her blade. "I'm not afraid."
The other Aria charged.
Steel clashed. Sparks flew.
It wasn't a duel. It was a reckoning.
---
Outside the mirror, the others could only wait.
Minutes passed. Then more.
Roger shifted, growing restless. "How long does it—"
Before he could finish, Aria reappeared in a pulse of dim light. Her shoulders sagged slightly, a sheen of sweat on her brow, but her eyes were steady.
She nodded once to the Director. "Next."
The Director looked to Kai. "How's your head?"
Kai swallowed. "It's okay. Here goes."
He stepped into the circle.
The mirror pulsed.
---
He stood in a workshop—his old one. Diagrams littered the walls. Cracked tools and broken runes shimmered under dim lamplight.
His father stood over him, expression cold. "You'll never be more than a scribbler. You can't even draw a stable glyph."
Kai looked down. The rune he'd been drawing bled energy, unstable, collapsing.
From behind, a voice echoed—his own.
"He's right. You're not chosen because you're good. You're chosen because you're safe. Because the Director knows you won't question him."
Kai clenched his fists. "No. I'm here because I will grow. Because I'm not afraid to fail."
The mirror twisted, showing every failure he'd ever etched in chalk.
"Then prove it."
His hand rose. Slowly, he drew. A rune of resistance. A rune of self.
This time, it held.
---
When Kai returned, his eyes shimmered faintly. He didn't speak, but he smiled.
The Director met his gaze. "You've taken your first real step."
Then, all eyes turned to Roger.
He gave a low grunt. "Let's get it over with."
He stepped in. The mirror flared.
---
He stood in a ruined corridor, walls collapsing. Screams echoed.
Dresner's body lay in front of him. His team. All dead.
A younger Roger knelt beside the corpses, sobbing, hands covered in blood.
"You failed them," his younger self hissed. "You chose who lived. You played god."
"I made the call no one else could."
"You keep saying that. But you never stop seeing their faces."
The corridor burned. Ash choked the air.
Roger turned, fist clenched. "I carry them because I must. They remind me why I fight."
His reflection stepped forward. "Then carry them well."
Roger's hand opened.
A single flower bloomed in the ash.
---
He emerged quiet, solemn. But his eyes held peace.
The Director did not step forward.
"I've faced mine already," he said simply.
A rumble echoed from the chamber wall. A doorway split open, revealing a descending stairwell. The path to Floor 3.
The Soulmirror faded.
Kai broke the silence. "We made it."
Roger nodded. "Together."
Aria placed her hand on the wall. "Let's see what's next."
The Director smiled faintly. "Now... the real test begins."
And one by one, they descended into deeper darkness.
As the darkness closed around them the Director glanced back at the mirror seeing a different version of himself smirking back at him even though his face was still. Then the darkness finished closing in and the mirror was gone.