The journey to Amistad began at dawn, when the first threads of light bent across the jungle's horizon.
Tray adjusted the strap on his katana, its core now re-calibrated after the Lion trial. Lyra walked beside him, her spear folded into a slim cylinder at her back, the two of them moving through digital mist that shimmered like broken code.
> "Amistad," Lyra said quietly, "the kingdom of reflection and deceit. Don't trust a smile there."
> "Good thing I don't trust easily," Tray replied, scanning the skyline.
They boarded a hover skiff that glided over silver water. The further they sailed, the thicker the fog became—until the world fractured. Towers of glass and chrome rose from the mist, catching sunlight and bending it into impossible angles.
The capital floated on mirrored platforms, each one rotating slowly around a massive prism-core pulsing blue.
Guards in white and gold armor met them at the dock, their helmets faceless, reflecting everything and nothing.
A voice echoed through the dock speakers:
> "Welcome to Amistad. State your alignment and intent."
Lyra stepped forward. "Envoys of Isibindi. Seeking audience with Queen Aelora."
A pause, then:
> "Your names are logged. The Queen will see you at dusk."
They were escorted through crystalline streets alive with reflections. Every pane of glass showed a different version of the world—a laughing crowd where none stood, a sky of endless eyes. The kingdom felt alive, aware.
> "Everything here watches," Tray muttered.
> "Amistad believes truth hides behind perception," Lyra said. "They built a city of lies to find honesty."
At dusk they entered the Hall of Mirrors. Queen Aelora awaited them—tall, elegant, her gown woven from threads of light. Her eyes were like calm seas, impossible to read.
> "Isibindi sends warriors rather than diplomats?" she said with a faint smile.
Lyra bowed. "We bring warning. The Rift corruption is spreading faster than expected."
> "The Rift." Aelora's gaze flicked toward Tray. "And this shadow beside you?"
> "Tray of the Outer Grid," Lyra said. "He passed the Lion's Trial."
> "Ah," the Queen said softly. "A shadow who faced himself. Tell me, Tray—what did you see?"
Tray met her gaze. "Enough to know I don't want to see it again."
Her smile widened a fraction. "Honesty. A rare currency here."
Through the council meeting, Tray mostly listened. Amistad's senators debated endlessly—politics layered in illusion. But Tray noticed something else: one mirror behind the Queen shimmered wrong, its reflection delayed by half a second.
Later, while Lyra conferred with the council, Tray slipped away and examined the mirror. He touched its surface—and his hand passed through.
Behind it, a corridor of darkness pulsed red.
He drew his katana. "Yeah… that's not normal."
A whisper answered:
> "Shadow walker… we see you."
A Rift shade lunged out—its form a twisted imitation of him again, but sleeker, faster. They fought in tight quarters, blades clanging against mirrored walls. Each strike shattered a reflection of another version of Tray—one smiling, one crying, one monstrous.
Lyra burst through the door, spear flaring. "Tray!"
They finished the shade together—her spear impaling it, his blade purging the code. As it dissolved, the mirrors around them cracked, revealing flickering data lines connecting deep into the city's core.
> "They're already inside," Tray said, breathing hard.
> "Then we warn the Queen."
But when they returned, the Queen was gone—and only her reflection remained, smiling sadly from every mirror.
> "Welcome," it said. "To the true face of Amistad."
---
Chapter 6 – Glass and Code
The alarms began as chimes—elegant, musical—and then became screams.
The entire city mirrored itself into chaos, reflections detaching from reality, walking, fighting, fleeing.
Lyra pulled Tray behind a pillar as a squad of mirror-soldiers clashed with their own duplicates.
> "The Queen's trapped inside her reflection," Lyra said. "If the Rift infects the Core Prism, every kingdom linked to Amistad will fall."
> "So we break the mirror?" Tray said.
> "We free her," Lyra corrected. "If we break it, the city dies."
They raced through the corridors toward the Prism Tower. The mirrored walls rippled like water, showing pasts that weren't theirs—Tray as a child training with his master, Lyra kneeling before a burning temple. He slowed, caught in the memory.
> "Don't look too long," she warned. "It shows what hurts most."
They reached the Prism Chamber—a cathedral of light. The Queen floated within the central crystal, frozen mid-motion, her code intertwined with red corruption lines. Around her, Rift constructs guarded the chamber—humanoid figures made of glass and shadow.
Tray ignited his katana; Lyra's spear unfolded with a mechanical snap.
> "You take left," she said.
> "Always do."
They leapt together, moving in perfect rhythm. Each strike painted arcs of green and violet light across the mirrored floor. The constructs shattered like stained glass, refracting their own demise.
Between swings, Tray shouted, "You sure freeing her won't kill us?"
> "Fifty-fifty chance!"
> "Could've led with that!"
The last construct fell. Lyra jammed her spear into the Prism's base; Tray thrust his blade alongside it. Energy surged—two frequencies syncing. Light exploded, flooding the room with a kaleidoscope of color.
The corruption screamed and burst apart. The Queen fell free, collapsing into Tray's arms, her body flickering between solid and holographic.
> "You risked everything," she whispered.
> "Story of my life," Tray said.
She smiled faintly. "Then let me offer you truth. The Rift is not invading from outside—it's awakening from within the Four Kingdoms."
Lyra froze. "What do you mean?"
> "Each kingdom holds a fragment of the ancient core. The Rift was our creation… born from our arrogance."
Tray glanced at Lyra. "Guess saving the world's more complicated than hitting things with glowing sticks."
The Queen managed a weak laugh. "Perhaps. But I see in you both—shadow and light—the balance we lost."
The Prism pulsed again, stabilizing. The reflections began to return to normal.
Outside, the sky cleared, revealing a serene digital dawn.
Lyra stepped beside Tray, looking out at the horizon. Her armor was cracked, hair loose, but her stance unbroken.
> "You keep finding trouble," she said.
> "You keep saving me."
She shook her head. "We save each other. That's how it works."
For a moment, silence—the good kind. Then the Queen's voice echoed behind them.
> "Seek the Kingdom of Aether next. Its winds carry the oldest code. But beware—the Rift grows stronger there."
Tray adjusted his cloak. "Aether, huh? Sounds windy."
Lyra smiled. "And high. You afraid of heights?"
"Only of falling."
She looked at him sideways. "You already did."
He blinked. "What?"
"Into this," she said softly, walking ahead.
He stood there a second, half-smile forming. "Maybe I did."
The camera of imagination pulls back—two figures walking across a bridge of light, the mirrored city rebuilding behind them, the next kingdom waiting in the distance.