The gates shut behind them with a thunderous clang.
Ren didn't flinch. He kept his blade angled low, his eyes scanning the interior of the spire. The rebellion clustered close, their breaths tight, every shadow around them twitching like it might lunge at any moment.
The tower's insides weren't walls or floors. They were mirrors.
Endless planes of glass stacked atop one another, rising higher than the eye could see. Each one reflected not just their bodies, but something else—twisted fragments of memories.
Ren caught sight of his younger self, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the moon outside a window. Another pane showed him screaming in silence, as if begging for someone who never came.
The rebellion stirred uneasily, each one locking onto their own reflections.
"Don't look too long," the silver-haired girl whispered, clutching her shard-wings tight against her back. Her voice trembled. "That's how the tower eats you."
