The path ahead twisted like a serpent—narrow, jagged, and scattered with the shattered remains of mirror beasts. Their blood shimmered like liquid glass, pooling in fractures and crevices, catching glimmers of things that did not belong to this world.
Reflections.
Echoes.
False memories.
Crack—crunch.
Grey's boots sank slightly into a fractured stone, splintering underfoot with each step. A pale mist curled along the ground, rising in tendrils that wrapped around his legs like ghostly hands, reluctant to let go.
The Mirror Realm was nothing if not cruel.
Elsa walked just ahead, her crimson hair catching the silver ambient light in soft pulses—like flame swaying underwater.
She didn't speak. Neither did he.
Only silence walked with them.
And it stretched.
And stretched.
Until it became suffocating.
It pressed down like unseen weight, coiling around his chest.
—plip… plip… plip—
The only sound was the distant echo of dripping water somewhere far beneath the realm's cracked surface.
Grey exhaled slowly, fogging the air.
He could still feel it. The after-burn of that power. The Fire of Sacrifice.
It no longer roared. Now it slept—coiled beneath his ribs like a resting serpent, but the memory of its heat still danced through his veins, scorching even in its absence.
'What did you give up?'
Elsa's question echoed again—louder in his mind than it had been in the moment.
He hadn't told her the truth.
Not even close.
A memory? No.
That word was too small.
What he had given up… it had been warm. It had meant something. Something irreplaceable. And now there was just—nothing. A hollow where something once lived.
He didn't even know what it was.
And that made it worse.
Click.
His knuckles cracked as he curled his hand into a tight fist, not even noticing until his nails dug into his palm. Slowly, he unfurled it, fingers trembling beneath the silver haze that hung in the air like a shroud.
'It was a mistake.'
Sacrificing a memory—his memory—was a mistake.
He had always believed a person was made not of flesh alone, but of choices.
Of pain. Of joy. Of fear and the people they'd lost.
So what happens when you start giving those pieces away?
What would be left?
He stared at his hand again, the rune long since faded, yet its presence still etched deep within his bones—like phantom fire licking at the marrow.
And the most terrifying part?
"…gr…"
It didn't hurt.
"…grey…"
Shouldn't it have?
"…hey. Grey…"
His footsteps slowed.
Was this really power? Or was it just erosion—slow and quiet—wearing him away?
"GREY!"
His head jerked up.
Elsa had stopped. She stood just ahead, one eyebrow raised, her usual smirk gone. Her eyes were sharp, cutting through the mist like blades.
"You're shaking."
He looked down at his hand again, as though seeing it for the first time.
"It… was a memory," he whispered.
"hm?"
Elsa turned fully toward him now. "What kind of memory?"
"I… don't know."
"Then how do you know it took it?"
"I just… do." His voice dropped. "It's like I'm lighter. Like something that once mattered is missing."
His voice cracked like thin ice.
The mist thickened, swirling lazily around his boots. Faces drifted within it—watching, waiting. Not real.
He raised his eyes to hers. His golden gaze, usually cold and unreadable, shimmered now with something quieter.
Something human.
"It doesn't bother me that I lost it," he said.
A pause.
"Shouldn't it bother me?"
"..."
Elsa remained silent.
The realm itself seemed to listen. The mist held its breath.
"Maybe it wasn't important," she offered, voice softer now.
"Maybe," Grey echoed, then shook his head. "Maybe it was just a bruise. A laugh. A stupid face from long ago."
He looked at her, voice trembling—not from pain, but from something far colder.
"But… what if it wasn't?"
"What if it was someone I loved?" he whispered. "What if it was a promise I swore I'd never forget?"
His gaze dropped.
"What about next time?"
The weight in those words was unbearable.
"What if I forget the one thing that kept me human?"
Elsa didn't move. The fog twisted around her legs like silk.
"A person's just a shell," Grey said. "And memories, experiences… they're the things that fill it."
He swallowed hard.
"If I lose those… if I give too much…"
His voice grew quieter.
"Will there still be anything left of me?"
Drip…
Drip…
Somewhere deep in the realm, the sound of water echoed again—slow, rhythmic, like a heartbeat buried under stone.
"…Or will I just be a hollow thing? Walking forward because I forgot how to stop?"
Elsa exhaled—a long, slow sigh.
She brushed her fingers through her hair, red strands catching the ambient light like trails of fire.
"Well," she said, "I won't lie. That's the truth of it. That's what runes like this demand."
She turned, boots crunching softly against broken stone as she resumed walking.
"Everything comes with a price."
Grey followed slowly, the mist curling tighter now.
He gave a hollow chuckle. "So the price is me."
"No," Elsa replied. "The price is whatever you offer."
He blinked.
"You chose the memory, Grey. You made the offering."
They walked for a while, silence thick around them again.
Then, without turning, Elsa said quietly:
"But… who said it always has to be memories?"
Grey's head tilted. "…What?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder, eyes glinting with something playful, something knowing.
"You're so hung up on the idea that the Rune only wants memories. But you're the one who picked that. Doesn't mean it's the only thing it can take."
He frowned. "You mean…"
"It's the Fire of Sacrifice, Grey," she said softly. "And sacrifice doesn't just mean memories."
She looked ahead, voice calm but steady.
"Anything can be a sacrifice"
She paused, then added with a faint smile:
"The rune doesn't care what you offer. Only that you're willing to give something up."
The realization struck him like lightning arcing through mist. His pace faltered.
All this time, he'd thought the rune had required memories.
But what else could it take?
Blood?
Time?
Emotion?
Pain?
Then, her words echoed in his mind—quiet, almost forgotten:
"The more you sacrifice… the stronger the flame burns."
Suddenly, his hand stopped shaking.
Elsa noticed. There was life in his eyes again, even if it was burning low.
She smiled faintly, and said one last thing:
"…And sacrifice doesn't always mean forever, you know."
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
She stepped lightly, silver droplets clinging to her fingertips before flicking off into the mist.
"I mean maybe think smaller." A shrug. "Not every battle needs a funeral offering."
Then she turned and walked on, like she hadn't just shattered the weight in his chest with a few passing words.