Arden didn't remember the fall.
He remembered the mirror swallowing him—cold light slashing across his eyes, the world turning inside out, Seris's scream cutting off mid-breath.
Then nothing.
And then—
He hit stone.
Cold. Hard. Unforgiving. Pain flashed through his palms, forcing air back into his lungs. Ash lay thick beneath him—warm in places, almost pulsing—before slipping through his fingers like sand.
He pushed himself upright, blinking until the red haze in his vision cleared.
He was still in the House.
But not the House he knew.
This one felt younger. Or older. Or simply closer to something he couldn't name.
Soft red light glowed from nowhere and everywhere at once, bathing the room in a strange, dreamlike warmth. The air smelled of roses—sweet at first, then edged with something sour, as if the petals had been sealed and left to rot. Shadows moved gently across the floor, drifting like fish beneath dark water.
A hollow ache bloomed behind his ribs.
He felt… near something.
Something familiar, yet unreachable.
In the center of the room stood a mirror.
Tall. Bone-white frame curling like vines. Its surface shifted in slow ripples, as though it were not glass at all but a pool disturbed by an unseen breath.
Arden stepped toward it, drawn by a pull he could neither explain nor resist.
For an instant, his reflection stared back—dusty hair, wide eyes, a boy stumbling through a nightmare.
Then the image twisted.
Blurred.
And melted away.
A different figure took his place.
A man.
Older. Sharper. His shoulders formed a straight line beneath dark, regal clothing embroidered with silver knots. A sword hung at his hip. His expression was strained, as if carrying too many burdens and too few answers.
Arden's breath caught.
The man looked like him.
Not identical, but eerily close, like a memory wearing his face.
A whisper curled through the air:
"Do you know him?"
Arden spun.
No one stood behind him.
His pulse thudded painfully as he turned back to the mirror.
Another figure joined the man in the reflection.
A woman.
Seris.
Arden stopped breathing.
This Seris looked younger, untouched by fear. Her hair was braided with silver threads that glimmered under the red light. She wore a flowing dress the color of sunsets. She smiled softly—so softly it hurt to look at.
She stepped closer to the man. Their fingers brushed.
Arden's stomach tightened.
He reached out to the mirror before realizing what he was doing. The reflection of Seris tilted her head as if she saw him. As if she recognized him.
His hand froze just before touching the glass.
"This can't be real," he whispered.
But the mirror didn't listen.
The scene shifted.
Now the man knelt before Seris, holding her hands in his. Her cheeks flushed as she laughed, eyes glowing with unmistakable affection. Something small and silver hung at her throat—a pendant Arden didn't recognize.
The man leaned in and kissed her.
Arden stepped back as though struck. An ache twisted viciously in his chest. Jealousy? Grief? Confusion? He couldn't name it, but it carved through him all the same.
"How can I feel jealous of someone I don't remember being?" he whispered. But the words rang hollow.
The mirror pulsed again.
Now the man stood alone.
Covered in blood.
Arden's breath fractured.
A body lay at his feet.
Seris.
Her dress soaked in crimson. Her hair fanned out like spilled ink. Her face pale.
"Seris—" Arden choked, stepping forward.
The man in the mirror fell to his knees, gathering her lifeless body into his arms. His face twisted with grief so raw Arden felt it like a punch in the chest. The man pressed his forehead to hers, shoulders shaking with silent cries.
Arden's hand pressed to his own mouth.
He tasted iron on his tongue.
"That wasn't me," he whispered. "That cannot be me."
But deep inside, something old and buried trembled in recognition.
Love.
And loss.
A wound older than memory.
The vision blurred again.
This time the man stood before a tall figure cloaked in shadow. A mask of glossy black covered the figure's face.
The Architect.
Arden knew him without needing an explanation.
The shadow extended a hand.
The man took it.
Seris's body lay behind them, abandoned.
"No," Arden whispered. "No… I wouldn't—"
The mirror flashed white.
Silence swallowed the room.
Arden's pulse hammered against his ribs.
A soft sound broke the stillness—footsteps behind him.
He didn't turn.
He didn't need to.
"Arden."
Her voice.
He turned slowly.
Seris stood in the doorway, lantern dim, shoulders stiff. Her face was pale in the red light, her eyes reflecting something between sorrow and fear.
"You knew," Arden said quietly.
Seris swallowed. "You weren't supposed to see it yet."
"That wasn't me."
"You think I want that to be true?" Her voice wavered. "But the House doesn't lie."
"I wouldn't hurt you."
Her lips trembled. "But you did."
"No!" His voice cracked. "I don't believe that!"
"You don't have to." She looked down at the floor. "The House remembers for you."
His heart pounded painfully.
"Seris… who was that man?"
Her eyes lifted to his, shining with pain.
"You," she whispered. "Your first life. The one that set everything in motion."
Arden staggered back as though the words carried weight.
"And the woman," he said. "That was you?"
Seris closed her eyes. "I don't know what version of me she was. But she loved him. Completely. And losing him broke her so badly that it broke the world."
Arden felt hollow.
Hollow and burning.
"Seris," he said gently, "I'm not him."
"No," she whispered. "That's the problem."
He didn't understand. But she looked at him like she wanted to step into him and run at the same time.
"You don't understand the House," she said softly. "Whenever you remember, it takes pieces of you. It wants to shape you into him again."
Arden swallowed. "Then help me understand."
Her breath caught.
"I'm trying."
"Not the mirror," he said gently. "Not the House. You."
She stared at him, something fragile and dangerous flickering in her eyes.
But before she could speak—
The House breathed.
A long, deep, hungry exhale vibrated through the stones. The lantern in her hand fluttered violently. Shadows surged along the walls like ink flooding a page.
"Arden—move!" Seris shouted.
She grabbed his arm without hesitation and pulled. Together, they ran as the mirror room erupted behind them. A violent roar shook the walls. Darkness slammed into the mirror with a crack that echoed through the corridor.
Seris yanked him through the doorway and slammed it shut. The roar died instantly, leaving only the faint sound of the House breathing.
Both of them gasped for air.
Arden looked at Seris.
Seris looked at the door.
Her voice came out as a whisper.
"You weren't supposed to see him die for me."
Arden blinked. "What?"
But the House whispered before she could answer:
"He remembers you now."
Seris went pale.
And inside Arden, something ancient stirred—like an echo waking after centuries of silence.
The House breathed again.