The first thing Ethan felt was cold.
Not the sharp, icy cold of winter, but something more surreal—like he was floating in a dream stitched from frost and shadow. His body refused to move at first. The weight of travel, of magic, of the mirror's pull, pressed down on him like gravity had forgotten how to behave.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Above him was a sky that shimmered like broken glass—cracked into pieces, each shard reflecting different moons, different suns, different skies. It was beautiful and terrifying. Reverie.
He was here.
The ground beneath him was smooth and dark, like obsidian, but pulsing faintly with veins of pale blue light. Around him stood crooked trees with mirror-like bark. Their branches moved even though there was no wind.
Then—footsteps.
Ethan sat up with effort, and there he was.
Noel.
Alive. Real. No glass between them.
He stood just a few steps away, silver hair loose, eyes wide with quiet awe and dread. His clothes were darker than Ethan remembered—less like a school uniform, more like armor sewn from shadows and starlight.
"Ethan…" he breathed, stepping forward, unsure.
Ethan didn't wait. He closed the distance between them, almost stumbling, and pulled Noel into his arms.
The moment they touched, the cold cracked and broke. Warmth bloomed in Ethan's chest so violently it made his eyes sting. He could feel Noel's heartbeat against his own. Real. Tangible. Not a dream.
"You came," Ethan said, voice breaking. "You're real."
"I shouldn't have pulled you through," Noel whispered, but he didn't let go. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."
"I don't care. I'm here. With you."
But behind the joy, something was wrong.
The world trembled softly beneath their feet.
Noel pulled back, eyes darkening. "Seren… he's close."
Ethan stiffened. "He came through?"
"No," Noel said. "But the mirror didn't close after us. It cracked open… and stayed open. He'll follow. He always follows."
A sound echoed in the distance—a ringing, like bells made of bone.
Noel grabbed Ethan's hand. "We have to move. This place—it's alive. And it knows you don't belong."
As they ran, the world shifted. Trees whispered secrets in languages Ethan couldn't understand. Reflections shimmered in the air, showing scenes from his bedroom, Nimra crying, Auren shouting his name.
Each memory a trap.
Ethan stumbled once, catching a glimpse of his mother's face in a floating shard of sky, but Noel yanked him forward. "Don't look at them. They're not real. They feed on longing."
They reached the edge of a black river, calm and silent.
On the other side, a figure waited.
Not Seren.
It was Zevian Vale.
He stood with a tilted head, smirking, dressed in clothes that didn't match this world or the last. Half his body shimmered like a memory, the other half solid.
"Well, well," Zevian said. "The prodigal lovers arrive."
Noel froze.
"You're not supposed to be here," he growled.
Zevian chuckled. "Neither are you, brother. But when has that ever stopped us?"
Ethan stepped forward, confusion swirling. "Brother?"
Zevian's eyes glinted. "You didn't tell him, did you?"
Noel's silence was louder than any scream.
Zevian took a step closer.
"This is going to be fun."