He wasn't alone for long.
A figure emerged from the glass forest. A woman cloaked in black, shards of broken mirror stitched into her robes. Her face was hidden by a veil, but when she spoke, her voice was sharp as cut crystal.
"You crossed willingly," she said. "That makes you dangerous."
Arun stumbled back. "I didn't—"
"You did," she interrupted. "No one enters without answering. The house whispered. You listened. Now the Gate has claimed you."
Behind her, the glass trees bent slightly, as if obeying her presence.
"Tell me, human," she said softly. "Do you wish to be prey… or something greater?"
The witch's eyes glimmered beneath her veil. She plucked a shard of glass from her robe, holding it between two fingers.
"This," she said, "is a piece of you. Broken, but not lost. Every traveler leaves something behind when they cross."
The shard pulsed faintly, showing Arun's reflection. His reflection smiled—though he hadn'
t.