Chapter 35: The Child on the Throne of Mirrors
The stillness of the chamber swallowed the world whole, leaving only the oppressive weight of Raen's thoughts. The air crackled with the echo of the mirrors that lined every wall, their reflective surfaces holding not just the shapes of those within the room, but the sins and reflections of their souls. Every movement, every shift of the eye seemed amplified—magnified in the endless sea of reflections.
Raen's eyes remained fixed on the child sitting upon the throne of mirrors, the figure so impossibly small and yet so undeniably important. The crown of mirrors sat atop the child's head, its jagged edges glimmering with an otherworldly light.
It was him. Or, at least, it was a part of him—a version of himself from a past that should have been erased. That much, Raen was certain. The child in the reflection was no mere illusion. His silver eyes glowed faintly, the same shade as Raen's own, though now tinged with a knowing malevolence that only seemed to grow sharper with each passing second.
The figure on the throne, though, did not move. He simply stared, unblinking, his lips curled in a silent, mocking smile.
Raen felt his heart beat in time with the soft, unrelenting hum of the mirrors around him. Something about the room felt alive—alive in a way that his own existence had become hollow.
"You've finally come," a voice, softer than the rustling of fabric, whispered through the shadows.
Raen's grip tightened around the hilt of his weapon, instinctively drawing on the Shatterborn power that had become his second skin. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice low but steady.
The child did not speak, but his smile deepened as if the question itself was a game. His tiny fingers clenched the armrests of the throne, and the mirrors trembled, sending ripples across the walls, distorting Raen's reflection into grotesque shapes.
The space seemed to warp in response to the child's silent command.