POV: Lyra
At first, I thought I was dreaming again.
The world around me shimmered — endless space, covered in ash and broken mirrors.
I stood barefoot on a reflective floor, stars swirling above my head, yet I felt no sky.
And then I saw her.
Me.
Emberlyn.
She stood across the mirrored room, her cloak flickering like dying flame, her eyes the same gold as mine had been when I woke in Kairo's room — but sharper. Hunger wrapped in grace.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," she said, stepping closer.
I didn't move. "This isn't your body."
"No," she said. "But you cracked the door open."
I swallowed. "You took over."
"I stepped in when you ran," she corrected. "When your soul couldn't hold the weight of what we are. When you begged to forget, I was buried. And now... I remember everything."
I clenched my fists. "Then tell me. Who were we?"
She stopped, just feet away now, and slowly reached out.
A mirror rose from the floor between us — tall, ancient, stained with smoke and blood.
Inside it, I didn't see her.
I saw myself.
A version of me crowned in flame. Cloaked in power. Eyes burning with grief.
"You loved him," I whispered.
"Yes," Emberlyn said. "And he loved me. But that love cost everything. Villages. Bloodlines. My own family. And in the end, he betrayed me."
I looked at her sharply. "Kairo?"
Her expression flickered. "Not this Kairo. The one before. The man who became the curse."
Silence fell between us like snow — cold and thick.
"And now?" I asked.
Her eyes softened. "Now, we get a second chance. But only one of us can walk out."
I took a step back. "You want control."
She nodded. "I want to live. To rewrite what I destroyed."
"But this isn't your life."
She tilted her head. "And yet… you are me."
And I understood.
I wasn't fighting a ghost.
I was fighting a version of myself shaped by heartbreak and rage.
And if I wasn't careful… I'd become her.
Suddenly, the mirror cracked.
A voice — Kairo's voice — echoed in the distance.
He was calling me.
Reaching into the space between.
"Lyra… come back."
I turned to Emberlyn. "He's not the same. You know that, don't you?"
Her gaze dropped. "Maybe not. But the question isn't whether he's changed."
She stepped toward the mirror.
"The question is whether you can forgive him before it's too late."
The mirror shattered.
And I fell through it.