Chapter 8: Reflections of the Forgotten
The mirror was the first thing that caught her eye.
It hung crooked on the peeling wallpaper, its glass warped and edged with cracks like veins. Aria didn't remember walking toward it—only that one moment she was standing near Caius, and the next she was reaching out, fingertips nearly brushing the dusty surface.
The room around her fell into silence. No creaking floorboards. No breath. Not even Caius' presence.
Only her reflection.
Except… it wasn't her.
The girl in the mirror had her face—same heart-shaped outline, same pale skin—but her eyes were different. Wiser. Older. Wounded. Her hair hung in loose curls, streaked with silver light, and a faint crescent-shaped scar rested at the base of her throat. Aria's fingers flew to her own neck, finding nothing.
She stumbled back.
Caius caught her by the waist. "What did you see?"
Aria's voice was hollow. "Me. But not… me."
He exhaled slowly. Not surprised. Not even confused.
"I was afraid of this," he said softly.
Her eyes locked on him. "What do you mean afraid? What's happening to me, Caius?"
His silence stretched too long.
Then—
"You've lived before, Aria," he said. "Dozens of times. Maybe more."
The walls groaned around them.
"I don't—what?" Aria stepped away from him. "No. That's not—I'd remember that."
"Not always." Caius followed her gaze back to the mirror. "Sometimes, your memories come back in dreams. Sometimes they stay buried. But this house… it remembers everything. And it's starting to show you."
Aria's pulse roared in her ears. "How do you know all this?"
"Because I was there." His voice dropped. "In every life, I've watched you fall. I've tried to protect you. Sometimes I succeeded. Most times… I didn't."
She stared at him, the weight of his words sinking like stones in her chest.
He looked tired. Ancient, even though he barely looked older than twenty-five. But in his eyes, there were centuries.
Her lips trembled. "What is this place?"
Caius walked to the center of the room. "They call it the House That Hears. But it's more than that—it's a memory keeper. It stores echoes of everyone who's ever passed through. Especially you."
The air suddenly felt too thick to breathe.
A whisper coiled around her ear, barely audible.
> You've died here before.
Aria whipped around. "Did you hear that?"
Caius didn't respond.
> Seven days, seven trials, the voice murmured again. You always fail the first.
She turned toward the mirror again.
This time, the girl inside it moved before she did.
Her reflection raised a hand in warning.
Aria's blood froze.
Caius stepped in front of her, blocking the mirror with his body. "She's not ready."
But the voice in the mirror—Liora—pierced through him.
"She has no choice," it said, and this time, Caius heard it too.
His head snapped toward the glass, his eyes flashing with something between grief and recognition.
"Liora," he whispered.
Aria's hands clenched. "Who is she?"
Caius swallowed. "She… she was the first you. The original. Before the curse."
"The curse?"
His jaw tightened. "The reason you keep coming back. The reason I'm still here."
Aria took a shaky breath. "What happened to her—to me?"
But Liora answered first.
> "I died in this house," she said softly. "Trying to stop what was buried beneath it."
The light dimmed around them, as if the house itself were leaning in.
> "I was too weak. I opened the wrong door. And every life since has been… a second chance."
Aria's voice cracked. "How are you here?"
Liora's eyes glimmered. "A part of me stayed. The part that couldn't move on. I became a fragment… a warning… a guide."
A pause.
> "You're the last. There won't be another you after this."
Caius flinched. "That's not true—"
But Liora cut him off. "You know it is. The power under this house is waking. It remembers her. And this time, it wants more than her soul. It wants her bloodline."
Aria swayed. Caius steadied her, his grip firm and grounding.
"Tell me what to do," she whispered.
Liora's expression turned somber. "Seven trials. Seven choices. Each one will reveal a piece of the truth. But beware—truth doesn't always set you free. Sometimes it cages you."
Caius turned to Aria. "The first trial begins tonight. In this house."
Aria looked back at the mirror—Liora already fading into the glass.
"I don't know if I'm strong enough," she murmured.
But from deep within the walls, the house spoke.
> Then you must become.
That night, Aria couldn't sleep.
Every corner of the house whispered. Not voices exactly—but sounds. The ticking of a long-dead clock. A heartbeat beneath the floorboards. Her name, breathed into dust.
Caius stood guard outside her door.
She didn't ask him to.
She didn't need to.
At midnight, the mirror cracked.
Aria bolted upright.
And across the room, a second door appeared. One that hadn't been there before.
It was painted black, with no handle. But it opened anyway.
Aria stepped inside.
The air shifted.
She was no longer in the house.
She was standing in a room filled with mirrors—every surface reflecting not her current self, but versions of her from other lives.
One Aria wore a crown of thorns.
One held a dagger dripping with gold blood.
One wept in chains.
One stood beside Caius, hand in his, wearing a wedding ring.
Another—Liora—stood apart, her hands stained with ash.
> "Welcome to the First Trial," Liora said.
Aria turned slowly. "What is this place?"
"A memory maze," Liora replied. "You'll see glimpses. But choose carefully. Every mirror is a door. Only one will lead forward."
Aria turned in a circle. Dozens of mirrors surrounded her.
Some showed lives where she ruled. Others where she ran. Some where she fought Caius. Some where she killed him.
Her breath hitched.
"How do I know which one is real?"
Liora tilted her head. "They're all real. They're all you. But only one leads to who you're meant to be."
Aria stepped toward a mirror where she was cloaked in shadow, eyes glowing. Power radiated from her.
She paused.
Liora shook her head. "That one opens a cage."
Aria backed away.
She turned toward another. She was alone. Safe, but lonely. She looked content… but hollow.
"Also a cage," Liora murmured.
Finally, Aria found one where she was kneeling in front of something unseen—but behind her, Caius stood, his hand resting on her shoulder.
Her eyes shone—not with power, but with clarity.
"This one?"
Liora nodded. "That one opens a door."
Aria reached for the mirror—and passed through.
She woke on the floor of the real house, breathless.
The cracked mirror was whole again.
Caius knelt beside her, eyes wild. "What happened?"
Aria sat up, heart still pounding. "I chose."
"Chose what?"
She looked him dead in the eye. "To stop running. To remember. To be the key that opens the door… not the cage."
The wind outside howled.
The house creaked, satisfied.
Somewhere deep below, something stirred awake.