The walls of the Mirror Realm shimmered with false dawn.
Seris stood at the threshold of the Flame Gate, Kaelen beside her, and behind them the elite vanguard of Solvyris—each one flame-bound, silent, and ready. Above, fire-dragons wheeled in formation, casting flickering shadows across the broken skies.
The Gate pulsed.
This was no ordinary crossing.
"Once we enter," Kaelen murmured, "there's no barrier between you and her."
Seris nodded, golden fire coiling around her wrists. Since stepping from the Wellspring, the flame no longer asked permission. It breathed with her, lived within her—a sentient river of ancient power.
Ashra stepped forward, solemn. "The Mirror Queen has long awaited your arrival. But she doesn't just rule with illusion. She is illusion. In this place, nothing is as it seems."
Seris didn't flinch. "I've seen what lies beneath mirrors. Let her come."
The Gate flared wide—light and flame unraveling space.
They stepped through.
---
The Mirror Realm was a kingdom inverted.
Mountains of crystal jutted sideways from the sky. Rivers flowed upward into shattered moons. Castles hovered midair, tethered by beams of refracted light. And everywhere, reflections moved just out of sync—like the world was trying to remember how it used to be.
They emerged in a clearing of obsidian lilies, surrounded by high walls of mirrored glass. In the center stood a palace of impossible angles—spires twisting like smoke, staircases that turned inside out.
"The Hall of Echoes," Kaelen whispered. "She's here."
Then the ground trembled.
From all sides, shadow-creatures poured forth—glass-armored knights with blades of broken truth. They didn't run. They glided, whispering Seris's name like a curse.
> "Pretender…"
Seris raised her hands. "Let them come."
Flame answered.
The first wave turned to ash before they touched her. Kaelen darted beside her, wind arcing from his blade in sweeping gusts, cutting through the hollow warriors. Arin loosed bolts of concentrated flame, each one echoing with the power of the Wellspring.
They carved a path forward—toward the throne tower where the Mirror Queen waited.
But as they reached the base of the final spire, the air fractured.
Out of it stepped her.
The Mirror Queen.
She looked like Seris. Exactly like Seris.
Down to the fire-woven robes, the glowing eyes, the way she tilted her head with feigned softness.
But her flame was wrong.
Cold. Hollow.
"Is this who you wanted to be?" the Queen asked, stepping forward. "Or who they forced you to become?"
"I'm no copy," Seris replied.
"No," the Queen smiled darkly. "You're the echo. I'm the origin."
She lifted her hand—and flame burst outward. But it wasn't ordinary fire.
It reflected.
It doubled and rebounded in impossible directions, igniting every mirrored surface. It struck Kaelen in the chest and hurled him backward. Seris dodged a second arc, countering with a burst of true flame—one that bent around the Queen's illusion and struck her shoulder.
The Mirror Queen hissed.
"Good. You've learned something."
The air thickened. Dozens of mirrored Serises stepped forward from the surrounding walls—each wielding different weapons, different expressions. Some wept. Some screamed. One held Kaelen's severed hand.
"Which one of you is real?" Kaelen coughed, rising. "Can you even remember?"
Seris's heart pounded.
The Queen was playing with her identity. Making her question the very foundation of her will.
> "You stepped into my realm," the Queen said. "But you brought your fire here. That was your mistake."
"No," Seris said. "You made the mistake of showing me what I could become."
The flame surged again—but this time, Seris didn't fight with it.
She unleashed it.
She threw the Wellspring fire outward—not to burn, but to reveal. The mirrored illusions shattered under its light. The false Serises screamed and cracked like glass, falling to nothing.
And the Mirror Queen… staggered.
Her face rippled. For a moment, she looked younger. Worn. Lonely.
Then the mask snapped back into place.
"I made you," the Queen said, trembling. "Everything you are is because of me."
"No," Seris whispered. "You tried to erase me. But I am not your shadow."
She stepped forward.
"You've hidden behind glass and lies. But I found the Wellspring. I faced myself. And I burned."
Another step. The Queen retreated.
"I chose who I am."
The crown—the Crown of Cinders—flared on Seris's brow. Not forced, not seized. Chosen.
And with that fire, she struck.
A final blast of flame, pure and golden, erupted from her outstretched hands and hit the Mirror Queen with the force of a world being remade.
The Queen screamed—not in pain, but in recognition.
And then she shattered.
Glass fragments scattered across the hall, the mirrored walls going dim.
Silence fell.
Then Kaelen stepped beside her.
"You broke her illusion," he said.
"No," Seris replied. "I freed her."
She looked down at a single remaining shard, where the Mirror Queen's eyes flickered once before fading.
---
High above, in the mirrored sky, the realm itself began to realign.
And for the first time in centuries, the Mirror Realm saw the sun.