The last shard of the phantom girl crumbled into dust, leaving Ren standing in silence. His fire hissed low, coiling back into his skin like a serpent satisfied with blood.
The shard-winged girl stepped beside him, her feathers dimming as if the room's weight pressed down on her. "That was no simple illusion. The mirror's archways… they're meant to peel you apart. Each one digs deeper."
Ren's lips curved into a crooked grin. "Then let it dig. The more it tries, the less I have to pretend."
She looked at him sharply, but before she could reply, the floor beneath them rippled like disturbed water. The wreckage of his "room" bled away, the walls dissolving into silver currents.
The archway pulsed again ahead—taller, darker, sharper-edged.
Ren smirked. "Round two."
They stepped through.
