By dawn, every reflective surface in the academy had been covered — windows, glass cabinets, even water fountains.
The place looked like a haunted dorm trying to cosplay as safe.
"You realize this makes it creepier, right?" Mira said, eyeing the sheet-draped hallway.
"Now it feels like the mirrors are thinking behind those covers."
"Good," Ryn said. "Let them think in private."
"You're not funny," she muttered.
"And yet," Ryn replied, smirking, "you keep talking to me."
Lyra smiled faintly at their banter. It helped her breathe. The air had been too heavy lately — full of whispers that no one else could hear.
Ceal arrived late to breakfast, balancing a tray and a book half the size of his head.
"I have news," he said, sitting down next to Lyra.
"Good or bad?" she asked.
"Depends," Ceal said. "Would you call 'the mirrors are alive' good or bad?"
Mira groaned. "Definitely bad."
"Clarify," Aiden said, not looking up from his notes.
"They're not just reflecting," Ceal explained. "They're remembering. Each surface keeps a memory of whoever stood before it. And now—"
He snapped his fingers, a spark of static crackling between them. "—those memories are trying to wake up."
Lune frowned. "So every reflection could… move?"
"Worse," Ceal said. "It could think it's real."
That night, the academy was too quiet.
Lyra couldn't sleep. She kept hearing faint sounds — whispers behind glass, soft knocks where there shouldn't be walls.
When she finally stood up, the moonlight caught a shard of a mirror on her desk — one she hadn't noticed before.
Her reflection blinked.
She didn't.
Her breath hitched. "Loren?" she whispered.
The reflection's lips moved. No sound came out — only a faint light, pulsing behind its eyes.
Then, just as quickly, it shattered — the glass splitting cleanly down the middle.
Across worlds, Loren jolted awake.
His pulse raced. For the first time, he saw her clearly in his dream — same eyes, same voice — calling out to him from behind light.
He whispered into the dark, "Who are you?"
The night didn't answer, but somewhere deep inside, a word formed — a name he didn't remember but felt.
"Lyra…"
Back in the academy, Mira barged into Lyra's room at dawn.
"I heard a crash— oh."
She looked at the broken glass. "Did we win or lose?"
Lyra managed a small smile. "Both, maybe."
Ceal appeared behind her, yawning. "You're both grounded from touching anything shiny."
"That includes your personality?" Mira shot back.
"Touché," Ceal said. "But seriously — the mirrors aren't done. This was just a whisper."
Aiden entered quietly, eyes scanning the floor. "Then we listen. If they're speaking, they're trying to show us something."
Lyra nodded, gaze distant. "Or someone."