Reflections That Breathe
The light released from the Core flooded the city. It spread in waves, filling every corner, every tower, and every shadow. The streets trembled, breaking apart into fragments of time, then reassembling, as if the city was trying to remember what it once was.
Emiren felt the space around them shift. The towers now seemed clearer, but their outlines wavered, as though multiple versions of the same place existed simultaneously. Beside him, Flamen reached forward—and his fingers touched an invisible surface.
“What is this?” he murmured, running his hand through the air.
Before them, a mirror appeared. But it did not reflect them. Within its depths, other images wavered—shadows of beings that had once existed here.
“These are echoes of those who came before us,” Watery whispered.
“Or of those who could have been,” Empty added.
In one of the figures, Emiren recognized himself. But this other Emiren had eyes that burned with a different fire—not doubt, but absolute certainty. He took a step toward the mirror, and his reflection mirrored the movement. But when Emiren raised his hand, the shadow version of himself did not. It only watched.
“This isn’t just a reflection,” he said. “These are the paths we didn’t choose.”
The Shadow, silent until now, finally spoke:
“This place is a crossroads of realities. A world that disappeared is trying to return, but it can never be the same again. It will either be reborn in a new form… or it will vanish completely.”
A Voice from the Past
From the depths of the mirror, a sound emerged—a whisper woven from a thousand voices.
“Have you come here to judge?”
The words had no source; they simply existed in the space around them, seeping through the air.
“We are not judges,” Emiren replied.
“You chose to preserve us… but what exactly are you preserving?”
The image in the mirror changed. Now they saw the city in its prime: towering spires glowing with golden light, rivers of time flowing between the streets, and people—those who had lived here. They looked happy. But their faces were blurred, as if the world itself could not remember what they looked like.
“They… are not real,” Flamen whispered.
“They are only echoes,” the Shadow said. “This world remembers that it once existed, but it has forgotten the details.”
“Then what can we do?” Empty asked.
“We must help it find its form,” Emiren said.
The Shadow of Choice
Before them, three doors appeared, each radiating a different energy.
“These are three possible futures for this world,” the Shadow said.
The first door glowed with soft golden light.
“If we choose this path, the world will be reborn as it was, but without memory. It will be a blank slate.”
The second door flickered dimly, as if hesitating.
“This choice will leave the world as it is now—a mere echo, a ghost of the past. It will continue to exist but will never become real.”
The third door pulsed with dark energy, swirling with indistinct shapes.
“And this path… it will allow the world to be reborn, but with the memory of everything that has happened. It will not be the same as before. It will change, and we cannot predict what it will become.”
Emiren stared at the doors, feeling the weight of the decision.
“If we choose the first option, this world will get a second chance, but it will forget all its mistakes.”
“If we leave it as it is,” Flamen said, “that would be the least interference.”
“But if we allow it to remember,” Watery added, “we won’t know what we’re creating.”
“Which choice is the right one?” Empty asked.
Emiren looked at the mirror, where his own reflection waited, as if it already knew the answer.
“The world has the right to remember. Even if it changes because of it.”
He reached for the third door.
Light erupted.
The world began to change.