The Mirrorlake was a place where reality was thinner than a breath.
Its waters were not water at all but polished glass, reflecting not what was, but what could be.
The Traveler, Elen, and the boy approached cautiously.
The air was thick with forgotten dreams and whispered regrets.
At the shore stood a figure draped in robes of cracked silver — the Seer of Reflections.
His eyes were endless mirrors, reflecting fragments of every possible future.
"Welcome," he said. "Or rather… welcome back."
Elen's eyes narrowed. "Back? You know me?"
The Seer smiled, though his lips never moved.
"Your name was never meant to be forgotten. You chose to forget."
He raised his staff.
"But memory is a mirror, and it always reflects what your heart refuses to see."
The Traveler stepped forward, wary.
"What is this place? What does the Mirrorlake hold?"
The Seer's gaze pierced the veil between worlds.
"A gate. Between what was, what is, and what must never be."
He pointed to the lake.
"Look."
They peered into the glassy depths.
Visions flashed — fleeting yet vivid:
A child wielding a sword carved from starfire, standing alone on a battlefield soaked in shadow.
A shattered crown sinking beneath crimson waves.
The boy—his small frame silhouetted against a collapsing tower.
The Traveler—his face twisted in silent agony as a golden wire wrapped around his wrist.
Elen, smiling in a field of black roses, her hands glowing with forbidden light.
The boy gasped.
"Is this… the future?"
The Seer's voice was soft but firm.
"No. It is a possible future. One path among many."
He turned to Elen.
"You must choose which reflection will become your truth."
Suddenly, the glass rippled.
From the depths emerged a figure—half woman, half smoke—the Echo of the Hollow Crown.
"Choose wisely, Seed," it whispered. "For your choice will break or bind the world."
Elen's hands trembled.
She reached toward the lake—and the waters surged—
Cut to black.
The words appeared: