The light consumed everything.
For a moment, Isabella felt weightless, as though her body had been stripped away and only her consciousness remained—pure thought suspended in a sea of radiance. Then, slowly, shapes began to solidify around her. The blinding brilliance dimmed into colours, the colours became walls, and the walls became a room.
She was standing in her old bedroom.
The posters on the wall, the stack of half-read novels by her bed, even the faint scent of lavender from a long-forgotten candle—it was all exactly as she remembered from when she was sixteen. For a heartbeat, warmth washed over her. She was home.
But then the mirror across the room shimmered.
Her reflection blinked—and smirked.
"You don't belong here, Bella," the reflection said, stepping out of the glass like it was nothing but water. "You're just pretending. All that talk about the universe listening? It's just you trying to escape reality."
Isabella staggered back, her spine pressing against the desk. The figure was her, down to the curl of her hair and the tremor in her voice. But the eyes—they were darker, sharper, like they carried every criticism she'd ever turned inward.
"This isn't real," Isabella whispered. "It's just the trial. A projection."
Her double tilted her head mockingly. "If it isn't real, then why does your chest hurt? Why do you feel like a fraud every time you tell people you believe in manifestation? You don't believe. Not truly."
The words sliced deeper than she wanted to admit. She had doubted. Every sleepless night she'd begged the universe for a sign, a change, something better—only to wake up to the same routine, the same bills, the same loneliness.
But this was different. She wasn't the same person anymore.
The walls of the bedroom rippled, bending like liquid. Shadows crawled across the floor, forming chains that slithered toward her ankles. The reflection snapped its fingers, and the chains tightened, dragging her down.
"You don't create," the double sneered. "You consume. You dream, but you never act. You're stuck."
"No!" Isabella shouted, pulling against the chains, her muscles burning.
The words of Echo echoed in her mind: What you think, you become.
She closed her eyes, forcing her breath to steady. If this realm was built from thought, then these chains were nothing more than her own fear given shape. She had created them—and she could uncreate them.
"I am not stuck," she said firmly. "I choose my path."
The chains rattled but held.
Her reflection laughed. "Empty affirmations. You don't believe them."
Her chest heaved. She thought of the night she had pressed her hand against the glowing window, of the courage it had taken to step through despite her fear. She thought of every moment she had refused to give up, even when life felt like it was closing in.
She opened her eyes, locking her gaze on her double. "I believe enough to be here. And that's proof I'm more than you say I am."
Light sparked at her fingertips, bright threads weaving into the air like streams of gold. The chains hissed, dissolving into mist as the light wrapped around her body. Her double stumbled back, the smirk fading into a grimace.
"This… this isn't you."
"Yes," Isabella said, her voice steady. "It is me. The part of me that refuses to stay small."
The golden light surged, filling the room, shattering the mirror, and consuming the shadowy reflection. The figure screamed, then scattered into fragments that dissolved into the air like smoke in sunlight.
Silence followed.
The chains were gone. The shadows vanished. The bedroom walls melted away, leaving her standing once again in the crystalline tower.
Echo's voice resonated within her mind. You confronted your first frequency—fear of fraudulence, the belief that you are powerless. You faced it, and you chose differently.
Isabella pressed a trembling hand to her chest. Her heartbeat was wild, but steadying. "That… felt too real."
Because it was. Every fear you bury has weight here. Every doubt you entertain takes form. To master this world, you must master yourself.
She swallowed hard. If this was only the first trial, what would the next ninety-nine look like?
Yet beneath the trembling, something new stirred inside her—strength. She had seen her fear face-to-face, and instead of collapsing, she had pushed back.
For the first time in years, she felt powerful.
Echo's voice softened. Step forward, Isabella. The trials will not grow easier, but neither will you remain the same. With each frequency mastered, your resonance strengthens.
Ahead, the walls of the tower shifted, opening into a new passageway that glowed with pale blue light. The air hummed, promising another test, another unveiling of herself.
Isabella drew in a breath, squaring her shoulders.
"All right," she whispered. "Show me the next trial."
And with steady steps, she crossed the threshold.