The waterfall roared like a beast in its final breath.
Velan stood on the jagged rock ledge, the newly given Shadow Disciple ring glowing faintly in his palm. Below him, the pool churned unnaturally — not just with water, but with something alive.
The moon above was full, casting the cave in silver light. Mist rose from the falls in thick, swirling veils.
And beneath the surface, those two glowing red eyes remained fixed on him.
> "Breathe," Anaiyaal whispered. "The mirror awaits."
Velan tightened his jaw. "What is that thing?"
> "It is you. Before you chose. Before you awakened. The reflection of what could have been."
Velan didn't wait.
He leapt.
---
The cold water hit like iron. He sank instantly, drawn deeper by some unseen pull. Not down — but inward. It wasn't drowning. It was descending.
The deeper he went, the quieter the world became.
No sound. No heartbeat. Only stillness.
And then…
A mirror.
Floating in the water, upright and smooth as polished obsidian. It didn't reflect light. It reflected truth.
Velan saw himself — but not.
His reflection was older. Stronger. Clad in blood-soaked robes with a curved blade at his back. His eyes glowed faintly, not red or gold, but a deep amethyst shadow.
And on his chest, the same mark — but fully awakened, now shaped like a burning serpent coiled around a dying sun.
Velan reached toward the glass.
The mirror cracked.
And from within, the reflected Velan stepped forward.
---
🗡️ In the mirror realm
They stood across from each other, silent.
"Are you me?" Velan asked.
The reflection nodded. "I am what you must become."
Velan narrowed his eyes. "A killer?"
"No. A survivor. One who kills when the world leaves no choice."
The reflection raised a hand, and a blade of shadow formed, long and curved like a serpent fang. "Prove you are ready."
Velan didn't summon a weapon. He stepped into stance.
The Naarkuri Nadai.
His footwork was light. Deliberate.
The reflection mirrored him, but faster. Stronger. Each movement pressed forward like a tide trying to reclaim the shore.
Velan took the first hit. A shallow cut across the shoulder.
Blood bloomed in the water like smoke.
But the pain didn't slow him — it focused him.
With each step, the rhythm of the Four-Intent Step returned to his bones. First mislead. Then silence. Then sever.
He dodged. Feinted. Moved behind his mirror self and landed a strike.
It passed through him — like cutting mist.
> "You cannot defeat me by strength," the reflection said. "You must surpass me in will."
Velan closed his eyes.
And remembered.
> The cold floors of the servant hall.
The hunger that never left.
The voice that offered him power when no one else even offered kindness.
He opened his eyes.
"I am not the boy who starved," he whispered.
"I am the flame that survived the dark."
His shadow rippled outward.
And the mirror shattered.
---
🌑 Above the water
Velan burst from the pool, gasping. Steam rose from his skin.
The mark at his collarbone now extended across his left shoulder in faint black lines — like a serpent curling around his arm.
And the ring on his finger hummed — warm, awakened.
> "You have passed the second gate," Anaiyaal said softly. "The shadow recognizes you. But the world will not."
> "Not yet."
Velan stood alone on the rock, drenched, breathless, but reborn.
Above the falls, a figure in a bone-white mask turned and vanished into the woods.
The cult guardians were watching.
---
End of Chapter 7