Others came.
The Reclaimed.
The Unwritten.
The Root-Touched.
Even the once-Amalgamated.
Each saw something different.
One saw themselves held, not by others, but by the parts of themselves they had once cast out.
Another saw an apology they had never made, blooming in a world they thought they'd lost.
Some wept.
Some laughed.
Some sat in silence for hours, letting the Mirror breathe their reflection in and out like wind through leaves.
No one left unchanged.
Because no one was being judged.
They were being understood.
Jevan avoided the Mirror for many days.
Not out of fear.
Out of knowing.
He had spent so long being the center of the narrative, the sword-bearer, the witness, the one-who-walks-the-perimeter.
He wasn't sure what the Mirror would do with someone who no longer wanted to lead the story—
Only to belong to it.
But eventually, the child of the second seed came to him and said:
"The Mirror doesn't show you what's wrong."
