The Crownless City never slept. Shadows writhed along the walls, whispering in languages Aeren almost—but not entirely—understood. He walked beside Kael and Lysara through a narrow street that twisted unnaturally, bridges folding over themselves, lanterns flickering with half-lives of light. The air was thick with the residue of old magic—ancient, observing, patient.
"Tonight," Kael said quietly, "you face your second trial. It is unlike the first. No enemies will strike, no echoes will attack—but the city itself will demand a choice of you. A choice that will shape the rest of your journey."
Aeren's brow furrowed. "A choice? About what?"
Kael smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. "That is for you to discover. The Crownless City does not reveal its tests in advance. It only gives one opportunity—then judges."
Lysara's shadow stretched and twined around him protectively. "This trial is the Mirror of Choices. Look upon it, and it will show you who you are, who you could become, and the consequences of every path you might take. Many never leave it unchanged."
Aeren swallowed. He had survived the Hollow Seas, faced the Cinder Echoes, and battled the Emissary. Yet he felt unprepared for this. The cost of each spell, each movement, had already hollowed him. How much more could he endure before losing himself entirely?
They arrived at a plaza at the city's heart. A black pool shimmered in its center, reflecting violet and silver light. Aeren stepped closer. The air thickened, and the whispers became voices, echoing from every angle.
"Step closer," Lysara said. "And look."
The pool's surface rippled. Slowly, it formed an image—not of the city, not of anyone present—but of Aeren himself. Yet this reflection was not simple. It showed him older, battle-worn, eyes haunted. In one hand, he held a blade of ash; in the other, a shadowed artifact he did not recognize. Around him, fragments of memories flickered—some his, some not, all intertwined.
Aeren gasped. "What… what is this?"
"The Mirror of Choices," Kael said softly. "It shows you what you might become—and the cost of every decision. It does not lie. But it will test your judgment, morality, and your will."
The pool shifted again. Now, scenes played out. Aeren saw himself saving a village, yet in doing so, letting another suffer. He saw himself claiming power that could rival the Empress, but in exchange, losing someone dear. He saw himself failing completely, the ash of the world consuming everything he had fought for.
"Choose," Lysara said. "The Mirror asks not what you want, but what you will. Every hesitation comes at a cost."
Aeren stepped closer, heart pounding. Sparks of ash flared in his hands instinctively. Each flicker reflected in the pool, interacting with the visions. He realized something terrifying: the Mirror reacted to his magic. Every attempt to shape it, control it, or resist it, drained him—not just physically, but from within. Memories he did not know he had vanished, leaving empty hollows in his mind.
The first vision solidified: a young boy, pleading, begging him to choose a path. Aeren reached out instinctively, ash surging to meet the apparition. The boy's voice echoed in his mind: "Choose, or lose everything."
He faltered. Doubt gnawed at him. Every path seemed wrong, every action had consequences he could not fully grasp. He felt hollow, like the echoes of a life he could not remember slipping away. Yet beneath the fear, a spark remained—a stubborn defiance. He would not let the city break him.
Aeren focused, letting the ash flow not as a weapon, but as an extension of his will. Sparks spiraled around him, shaping and intertwining with the reflections in the pool. Slowly, he made a decision—not one of perfect clarity, but of intent. He chose a path of protection over power, of sacrifice over selfish gain.
The pool shimmered, then stilled. The Mirror of Choices accepted his decision. Aeren fell to his knees, exhausted, the hollow ache inside him more pronounced. Memories had been taken, identities lost, but clarity remained. He had chosen. He had survived.
Kael placed a hand on his shoulder. "Few ever leave the Mirror unbroken. You have learned more tonight than you might realize. But remember—the cost is never free. Every choice leaves its mark, and the Empress sees all marks."
Above the plaza, a shadow shifted. Seraphae's golden eyes glimmered faintly, calm and knowing. She had observed him, seen the choice he had made, and smiled. The ash-touched boy was learning—but she intended for him to pay for every lesson.
Lysara's shadow wrapped around Aeren like a cloak. "You are stronger than I thought. But the city will continue to test you. And soon… the Empress herself will step from the shadows."
Aeren looked toward the horizon, the towers of Crownless City alive with whispers and movement. His hands still glowed faintly with residual ash. He had faced the Mirror of Choices—and lived. But the path ahead promised trials far greater than this.
The city was alive. The Empress was patient. And the ash-touched boy was only beginning to understand the cost of power.
Chapter 7 End Hook:
In a distant tower, Seraphae rose from her throne of shadows. The golden light of her crown flared, and her smile widened. "So he has chosen… very well," she murmured. "But the game has only just begun. Let us see how far he will go before the ash consumes him entirely."