The moon hung low that night, casting an eerie silver glow through the windows of the old cathedral. The candles in the sanctuary flickered nervously, as if aware that something ancient stirred within the stillness. Elara stood near the altar, her fingertips grazing the worn surface of the marble as she stared at the object nestled within the priest's chest: the Mirror of Silvyr.
Its frame was etched with symbols that pulsed faintly with ethereal light, as if breathing with forgotten memories. The glass itself shimmered with a kind of darkness—not empty, but dense, like it held within it a thousand sleeping stars.
"Is this really it?" whispered Kael, who had followed closely behind her, sword drawn even in a place of peace.
Elara nodded slowly. "The Chronicle called it 'the bridge that shatters and mends.' This is the mirror between worlds."
As she reached out, her reflection warped. It didn't mimic her—it responded to her. The mirror pulsed again, and Kael took a cautious step forward.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked.
Elara inhaled sharply. "No. But if I don't go through… we lose everything."
She pressed her palm against the glass—and was instantly pulled in.
On the other side, the world was not inverted—it was fragmented. The sky above was fractured into swirling constellations that moved like schools of fish. Floating islands drifted through a velvet void. Colors bled together like oil on water, and the air itself tasted like memory.
Elara fell to her knees, gasping.
"You shouldn't have come here so soon," said a voice.
A figure stood before her—neither man nor woman, human nor beast. A shape cloaked in silver strands of time, their face hidden behind a mask of shifting light.
"You are the Gateweaver," Elara whispered, recognizing them from her dreams.
The figure tilted their head. "And you are not yet whole."
"Then help me become what I must," she said, rising shakily.
The Gateweaver extended their hand, and in an instant, Elara's surroundings exploded into scenes—not of the present, but of possible presents. In one, she ruled a burning world. In another, she lay dead at Kael's feet. In another still, she stood alone on a throne of stars.
"Each path is a shard of your soul," the Gateweaver said. "To move forward, you must choose one to give up… forever."
Her heart raced. "What happens if I choose wrong?"
"There is no wrong," the Gateweaver replied. "Only what you must leave behind."
The visions danced around her like a carousel of fate. She saw herself as a scholar, never having left her old world. As a warrior who let go of love for power. As a mother, smiling at a child whose face blurred.
"I…" Elara's voice broke. "I can't choose."
"You must."
In the end, she stepped forward and touched the image where she stood alone on a throne, victorious but hollow.
"I'll give up this version of me," she whispered. "I won't trade connection for power."
The vision shattered.
The world quaked.
The Gateweaver nodded. "Then go, Elara Virell. Your path is set."
Back in the cathedral, Kael stumbled backward as the mirror erupted in blinding white light. The glass rippled like water and spat Elara out, her body collapsing against the cold stone floor.
But something was different.
Her eyes, when they fluttered open, were lined with light. Her aura pulsed with a resonance not of this realm. Kael stepped back in awe.
"You saw it, didn't you?" he murmured.
Elara nodded slowly. "I was it."
He helped her to her feet, but even his touch faltered slightly. "You're not the same."
"No," she admitted. "I've seen what I might become. And I've let some of it die."
She turned to the mirror. It was silent now, its glow faded.
"We have to move fast," she said. "The barrier between our world and the other is thinning. And something… something dark is waiting for it to break."
Kael looked at her, searching her changed face.
"What did the Gateweaver show you?"
Elara didn't answer.
She couldn't—not yet.
Because buried deep in the Mirror's reflection was one vision she hadn't chosen, but couldn't forget.
A world where she turned against everything.
And ruled it all.