It started with Mira's "brilliant idea."
Which, historically, meant trouble.
The academy library was quiet except for the rustle of pages and the faint hum of the storm outside.
Lyra was buried in notes about the Veil when Mira suddenly slammed a mirror on the table.
"So," Mira said proudly, "I borrowed this from the relic vault."
Lyra blinked. "You… borrowed… a cursed mirror?"
"Technically, it wasn't labeled cursed," Mira said. "Just 'high-risk reflective surface.' That's vague."
Ryn, sitting nearby, didn't even look up from his book. "Why are we still alive?"
"Positive thinking," Mira said.
"Or dumb luck," Ryn muttered.
Lyra sighed but smiled faintly. "What exactly are you testing?"
"The resonance," Mira said. "Ceal mentioned the Veil reacts to emotions, right? Maybe reflections show what the heart remembers."
Before Lyra could stop her, Mira touched the mirror.
The glass shimmered — dark, then silver — and suddenly ripples spread across its surface like water.
"Mira—!" Lyra started.
But it was too late. The reflection changed.
They weren't looking at themselves anymore.
In the glass stood a figure with silver eyes — faint, like smoke — watching them with quiet interest.
Not hostile. Just curious.
"Uh," Mira whispered. "That's… new."
Ryn stood instantly, hand on his blade. "Step back."
Aiden appeared from the next aisle, calm but sharp-eyed. "What did you touch?"
"It was just—science!" Mira said defensively.
"Science doesn't usually trigger interdimensional echoes," he replied.
Ceal appeared behind them, sipping tea. "Actually, it does. She's not wrong."
"Not helping," Aiden said flatly.
Ceal shrugged. "I never said I was."
The mirror rippled again, brighter this time. Lyra stepped forward instinctively — she could feel something behind that light, something familiar.
A voice brushed through her thoughts.
"Lyra… find me."
Her breath caught. It was the same voice from her dreams — Loren's.
The reflection flickered — this time showing him by a campfire, unaware of what he was doing, eyes glowing faintly red as if lost in memory.
He looked confused, not at her, but at the world itself.
"He's seeing something," Ceal murmured. "But not her. The mirror's reading the resonance, not the awareness."
"Meaning?" Aiden asked.
"Meaning he feels her," Ceal said, "but doesn't remember her."
Lyra's chest tightened. "He's trying, even without knowing why."
Then, the mirror pulsed one last time — and exploded in a soft wave of energy.
Books flew, Ryn shielded Mira, and Aiden caught Lyra before she fell.
Ceal, miraculously, didn't spill his tea.
When the light faded, Mira coughed. "Okay… maybe not my best experiment."
Ryn glared at her. "You almost opened a hole in reality."
"Yeah," she said, grinning weakly, "but think of the data!"
"Think of the concussion," Ryn muttered.
Lyra sat up slowly, her hand still glowing faintly with warmth. "It wasn't just a reflection. It was… a bridge trying to form."
Aiden nodded, expression unreadable. "Then we need to stop it before someone else crosses first."
Ceal smiled faintly. "Or before something does."
As they left the wrecked library, the broken shards of the mirror glimmered faintly behind them.
In one shard — unseen — Loren's reflection lingered a moment longer.
He frowned, as if sensing something, then whispered to the empty air:
"Why does that name… feel like mine?"