The commanding half stood perfectly still—shadow shaped like a person, voice shaped like Kai.
"Say his name again."
The pleading half leaned forward, softer, almost heartbreakingly gentle.
"Lina… please."
Two Kai voices.
One lie.One trap.
The mirrors around them gleamed with that horrible, hungry shine—like an audience waiting for the line that made the tragedy official.
Seren's fingers closed around Lina's sleeve, trembling. "Don't," she whispered. "If you say it wrong—if you say it with fear—"
"I know," Lina murmured, chest burning where the bone-tether lived.
Reyon swallowed hard. "Okay. Not to be dramatic, but… this feels like a 'say the wrong thing and the universe deletes your boyfriend' situation."
Lina didn't look away from the commanding half.
Because she could feel the mirror's intent.
It didn't just want the name.
It wanted what came with it—surrender, grief, collapse.
A lock.
The commanding half stepped closer, and the mirrors tightened the room around them like a fist.
"Say it."
Lina inhaled.
Then did the one thing the library hated most.
She made a rule.
"Everyone," Lina said, voice steady, "listen to me."
The commanding half tilted its head, amused.
Reyon blinked. "You're… giving a speech? In the murder mirror room?"
Lina's eyes flicked to Reyon. "If any of us speaks from this moment on, we do the Name Test first."
Seren's eyes widened. "Lina—"
Lina nodded sharply. "No exceptions."
The pleading half softened. "Lina, don't—"
"Say my name," Lina snapped at it.
The Mirror Library shuddered.
The commanding half smiled.
"Lina Veris."
The words were correct. The sound was perfect.
But Seren flinched like she'd been struck.
"That's wrong," Seren whispered, voice cracking. "It's smooth. It's too clean. Like a printed word."
Lina's bone-tether pulsed once—hot and warning.
Lina turned to the commanding half again, flame flickering low in her palm.
"Now say yours," Lina said.
"Kai Rhen," it replied instantly.
The mirrors brightened.
As if pleased.
As if that answer fed them.
Lina's teeth clenched.
She felt her heart try to leap anyway—stupid and loyal.
So she anchored herself with the only thing she trusted.
Touch.
Lina reached back without looking and grabbed Seren's hand, squeezing hard.
Seren gasped, but the contact steadied her glow.
"Stay with me," Lina whispered.
Seren squeezed back. "I'm here."
The bone-tether warmed, and in the warmth Lina heard the faintest echo—real Kai, distant as thunder underwater.
Not words.
Presence.
Still alive.
Lina stared at the lie wearing Kai's voice.
"Say my name," Lina repeated. "And stay real."
Reyon's mouth twitched nervously. "That's… going on a T-shirt, isn't it?"
"Reyon," Seren hissed.
Lina stepped forward until the heat of her flame kissed the lie's shadow-skin.
"Tell me," Lina said softly, "what did you tell me the first time you stopped pretending you didn't care?"
The commanding half didn't hesitate.
"Trouble."
The mirrors cracked again—angry, spidering lines across glass.
Seren's voice shook. "It's forcing the closest answer it can find. That's how it passes."
Lina nodded, eyes burning.
"Wrong," Lina whispered.
The pleading half stepped closer, voice breaking in Kai's tone. "Lina… please don't do this."
Lina's throat tightened.
It sounded like him.
It sounded like every moment he'd ever swallowed pain so she wouldn't have to.
Her flame flickered black at the edges.
And the Mirror Library pounced on that flicker.
A reflection on the nearest wall moved when Lina didn't.
Lina's mirror-self—eyeless—lifted a hand and pressed it to the glass from the inside.
Seren sucked in a breath. "Don't look in the mirror."
Reyon backed up fast. "Oh, I'm not. I'm not looking at anything. I'm spiritually blind."
Lina forced her gaze forward.
"Brave," Lina said, voice steady as a blade. "You called me brave. Like you hated that I was."
The commanding half hissed—actual sound, not Kai's voice. The shadow beneath it rippled, exposed.
For the first time, the lie's shape faltered.
Seren's eyes flared. "There—there's the real frequency. That's Veilbound code under the voice."
The pleading half's expression—if it had one—softened.
"Lina," it whispered, and the sound tore at her ribs.
The bone-tether pulsed again—painful, urgent.
A whisper, real and faint:
"Stay… real."
Kai.
Lina's breath hitched.
Seren's eyes widened. "He said that—he's trying to anchor you back."
The commanding half snapped, furious:
"SAY HIS NAME."
And the Mirror Library did something cruel.
It turned its attention onto Reyon.
A mirror across the room flashed—showing Reyon standing still… while his reflection smiled slowly.
Wrong.
Reyon blinked. "Uh… why is my reflection doing that?"
Seren's head whipped toward him. "Reyon—Name Test, now!"
Reyon swallowed hard. "Okay. Okay. Uh—Reyon Vale—"
Seren snapped, "That's not your name."
Reyon froze.
Because for a single terrifying second… he couldn't remember.
His mouth went dry.
His reflection's smile widened.
Lina's stomach dropped.
The memory cost wasn't just Lina's problem.
The library was stealing certainty.
Reyon's voice cracked. "I— I know it— I just—"
The mirror-Reyon pressed its hand to the glass.
The glass flexed.
Like skin.
Seren grabbed Reyon's wrist. "Reyon. Look at me. Say it. Full name."
Reyon stared at Seren, panic rising. "It's— it's Reyon—"
His reflection's fingers pushed through the mirror.
Lina moved without thinking—flame flashing gold—then stopped herself from blasting.
Touch.
Anchor.
She grabbed Reyon's other hand and squeezed until his knuckles whitened.
"Reyon," Lina said sharply, "stay real. Say your name."
Reyon's breath stuttered.
Then—like the contact dragged him back into his body—
"Reyon Vale," he gasped. "REYON VALE."
The mirror-Reyon jerked violently, as if yanked by an invisible chain.
It slammed back into the glass.
The mirror hardened again.
Reyon sagged, trembling. "Okay. That was… deeply illegal."
Seren's eyes shone with tears. "That's the rule. Touch anchors. Isolation kills."
Mira, still collapsed on the floor, suddenly convulsed.
Her coercion mark flared.
Her eyes snapped open—blank again—and her voice came out layered with that cold command.
"Release the tether."
Lina's ribs burned like someone had hooked a nail into her bones.
Kai's presence flickered—pain, sharp and distant.
Lina hissed through her teeth. "No."
The commanding half smiled, satisfied.
"Then we will take him through you."
The mirrors all brightened at once.
And the Mirror Door—silent until now—answered.
A hairline crack appeared in the sealed glass doorway.
Thin. Bright. Breathing cold air.
Seren froze. "It's opening."
Reyon stared, horror-struck. "Or… it's being opened."
The crack widened.
A sliver of the other side showed through—dark corridor, rune chains, mask silhouettes.
And then—
A hand reached out.
Not shadow.
Not a mimic.
A real hand—familiar shape, trembling fingers—wrapped in darkness and gold like bruised flame.
Kai's hand.
Lina's breath caught so hard it hurt.
"Kai—!"
The hand didn't grab her palm.
It grabbed her wrist—right over where the flame in her bones burned hottest.
The tether blazed.
Lina screamed, not from pain—from the shock of contact through worlds.
A second hand appeared behind Kai's—longer fingers, mask-sleeve, wrong angle—
reaching for the same grip.
Seren shouted, "Lina! It's not just him reaching—someone is reaching through him!"
Reyon grabbed Lina's other arm. "Okay, no, no, nope—if a masked demon is holding your boyfriend's hand like a puppet, we do NOT accept the handshake—!"
Kai's voice—real, strained—finally broke through the tether in three shredded syllables:
"Lina… don't—look—"
The Mirror Door surged wider.
The pull doubled.
Lina's feet slid across stone.
Her bones burned.
Her flame flared.
And the last thing Lina saw before the mirror light swallowed the room—
was Kai's hand tightening on her wrist…
and the masked hand tightening over his.
To be Continued© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.