Liora stumbled as the world bent around her. The alleyway disappeared, replaced by a hallway of shimmering walls that reflected not her body, but fragments of her memories. Each step echoed with a sound like wind over glass shards.
"Where… are we?" she asked, voice trembling.
"The Citadel," Kael replied. "A safe place between your world and theirs. The Glassless cannot pass here."
The Citadel was alive with light that bent and fractured, forming corridors that seemed to stretch into eternity. Doors appeared and disappeared as though the building had a mind of its own. Liora realized she could see things no normal person could: echoes of people long gone, shadows of events yet to come, and faint trails of energy left by creatures she couldn't yet name.
Kael guided her to a small chamber filled with strange crystals that pulsed softly. "These are memory anchors. They'll help you regain what you've hidden, safely."
Liora touched one, and instantly a wave of images assaulted her: a child laughing in sunlight, a figure screaming in darkness, a door she had slammed shut herself. She gasped and fell back, shaking.
"You sealed your Sight to protect yourself," Kael said gently. "But it's time to remember. You are the key to stopping the Glassless from tearing your world apart."
The whisper returned, insistent, urgent:
"Remember… or they will find you."
Liora's stomach twisted. "I… I don't even know where to start."
"Start here," Kael said, pointing to a large, cracked mirror that floated above the crystals. "That mirror shows what has been lost and what can be found. Look, and you will know your first path."
Hesitantly, Liora raised her eyes to the glass. Her reflection stared back — but it wasn't her. It was older, stronger, cloaked in shadows and light, holding something in her hands she didn't yet understand.
And then, the reflection spoke.
"Do you remember me?"
The words weren't from the mirror. They were from inside her head, echoing through her bones.
Liora's heart thudded. Something told her that whatever she saw in the mirror was not just a memory. It was a promise… and a warning.