Arun's hand hovered over the Heart — but instead of touching it, he split the light in two.
One part flowed into his chest, the other into the mirror below.
The Tower screamed. The sky shattered.
Varma's eyes widened. "You… shared it? That's never been done!"
The world around them folded like paper.
Now there were two Houses: one bathed in shadow, the other glowing with silver fire.
The Witch trembled. "You've made a choice the Watchers never dared. You've given reality a twin."
Arun looked around — and saw two versions of every person he'd ever known staring back.
But Varma had planned for this.
He stepped into the darker House, merging with its blackened heart.
"You may be the Architect of one world," his voice echoed, "but I am the Master of the other."
The sky darkened, and the mirror realms began to drift apart — destined to collide.
The collision began at the Tower's base — time slowed, space fractured.
Creatures born from both light and shadow emerged, tearing at each other, reality unraveling around them.
Arun realized that the balance was breaking. If the two Houses clashed completely, all realms — including Earth — would die.
In desperation, Arun summoned the Mirror Council — ancient Watchers long turned to stone.
They rose again, spectral and solemn.
"You broke the law of singularity," said the eldest. "Now you must weave the Thread of Unity."
"And if I fail?" Arun asked.
"Then every reflection becomes dust."
The Council taught him a forgotten spell — the Thread of Unity, woven not with magic but with memory.
To cast it, Arun needed the three greatest truths of his soul.
The first: the moment he first feared the House.
The second: the moment he chose to fight it.
The third… remained hidden.
The Witch stepped forward. "I can give you the third truth. It's mine."
She touched his forehead, and memories not his own flooded in — of a girl taken by the House centuries ago, turned immortal, and waiting for someone who could change its nature.
"You're not just my savior," she whispered. "You're my end."
The spell activated. Threads of memory shot from Arun's chest, weaving between the twin realms.
For a moment, peace returned. The skies calmed. The creatures stopped their war.
But then — a surge of darkness cut through the weave. Varma had unleashed the Mirror Devourer, a creature that consumed unity itself.
It rose higher than the Tower, a monstrous shape made of shattered realities.
Its voice was every voice Arun had ever heard — crying, laughing, screaming.
"You cannot bind what was meant to break," it hissed. "You are a lie."
Arun steadied himself. "Then I will be the strongest lie ever told."
Knowing the Devourer could not be defeated by force, Arun leapt into its maw willingly — carrying the Heart's light inside him.
The Witch screamed his name as the creature swallowed him whole.
Inside, Arun found not darkness… but a door.
A door older than the House.
A door that whispered, "Welcome, Creator."