When the Mirror Shattered
No one knew how much time had gone by.
The courtyard was still steeped in silence—so deep, it was nearly holy. A thousand hearts beating slowly, reverently, eyes closed in trust, souls laid bare under the sky.
And then—
Crack.
It was soft. Subtle.
A sound like frost shattering across warm glass.
Brows furrowed. A few eyes twitched behind closed lids.
Crack.
Crack.
The noise came once more—quick, intentional. Not booming, but sudden enough to ripple the quiet like a ripple on calm water.
The noise did not cease. It rebounded—silent but unmistakable—as though the world itself were holding its breath.
And then—
CRACK.
An instantaneous break ripped through the air, as sharp as lightning on rock.
The silence was shattered.
So was the mirror.
The large ceremonial mirror at the center of the courtyard—once unblemished and shining under the aligned twin moons—shattered.
