Marinette stared at her locker door, eyes wide with exhaustion.
Her hair was messy, her bag unzipped, and her math book halfway falling out. All night she'd been rewatching the footage—her own footage—of her first mission as Ladybug. Every mistake. Every stumble. Every near miss.
Now she had to smile through class as if none of it had happened.
"Marinette, you okay?" Alya's voice broke her spiral.
"I—Yeah! Just tired," Marinette offered, half-truth. "Weird dreams."
Alya grinned. "You are weird, but it's your charm."
Behind them, Adrien laughed. Nino fist-bumped her.
But Marinette wasn't really hearing them. Her gaze drifted to the window—the rooftops. That's where she belonged now.
A new weight clung to her shoulders. A thrill. A terror. A responsibility she hadn't asked for... but could never walk away from.
And deep down, part of her whispered:
"What happens when I fail?"
Zoé leaned against the dining room doorway, arms crossed. Her eyes tracked Thorne as he laced his boots by the wall mirror, adjusting his black scarf.
"You go out every night," she said coolly.
Thorne didn't glance up. "I like the quiet."
"Quiet?" she scoffed. "You come back smelling like ozone and smoke. Sometimes blood."
Still silence.
"You're involved in this chaos, aren't you?" Zoé pressed, stepping closer. "Stoneheart. The monsters. The girl in the red suit."
He looked at her now—calm, but firm.
"You want the truth?"
Zoé hesitated. Then nodded. "Yes."
"…I can't give it to you."
Her face twisted with frustration. "Why? Because you don't trust me?"
"Because some truths cut deeper than lies," he answered.
Silence.
She shook her head and turned to leave, muttering, "Then don't expect me to stay blind forever."
Thorne followed a paper lantern through a narrow alley until a door slid open, revealing Master Fu standing beside a circle of ancient markings.
"I see you found it," Fu said.
"I didn't have much of a choice," Thorne replied.
Fu motioned for him to step into the circle. "Then let's begin."
The air stilled. Wayzz floated above them, casting soft light. Around the circle, seven mirrored symbols shimmered—each representing a pillar of balance:
Justice
Compassion
Duty
Loyalty
Mercy
Truth
Sacrifice
"This is not a test of what you can do," Fu said. "It is a test of what you choose to do when no one watches."
"I don't answer to riddles," Thorne replied.
"No," Fu said, "you answer to yourself."
With that, the mirrors flared—pulling Thorne inside them.
Thorne found himself walking through illusions drawn from his past and present.
Justice
He stood before a courtroom where the guilty were celebrated and the innocent ignored. A child begged for help, but the guards only protected the rich man beside him.
"Would you break the law," a voice echoed, "to serve what's right?"
He clenched his fists... and freed the child.
Loyalty
He saw Zoé surrounded by mocking crowds, Chloé among them. He stood alone, hidden in the shadows.
"Would you ruin your peace to defend someone who has none?"
He stepped into the spotlight—and shoved Chloé back with a stare cold as iron.
Mercy
A villain knelt before him—defeated, crying, begging.
"Would you offer forgiveness… even when vengeance screams louder?"
He held the weight of a strike in his palm... and chose not to swing.
The illusions faded. Thorne gasped as he fell to his knees within the circle. Sweat rolled down his face, but his eyes were steel.
Master Fu looked at him, lips pressed thin.
"You've passed," he whispered.
A faint glow rose between them.
Not a Kwami.
Not a ring or pendant.
But a sliver of mirrored glass—hovering above the air, pulsing with threads of both light and shadow.
The Miraculous of Balance had chosen.
It shimmered like a mirror reflecting not the world—but the person staring into it.
Fu bowed slightly. "Few ever make it this far. But you—you will walk the line the others cannot."
Thorne looked at the floating shard.
"And if I fall?"
"You won't," Fu said. "Not if you keep asking the right questions."
Thorne slowly extended his hand.
The shard hovered into his palm.
Its edges became soft, forming into a bracelet with no clasp, like an eternal ring wrapping his wrist. Symbols across it flickered briefly—then vanished.
He stared at it.
Then spoke, voice steady.
"I accept."