She finally forced herself upright, legs unsteady, muscles twitching from more than just the impact. Her breath misted in the air—even though the chamber wasn't cold. Cassian lingered nearby, a rare flicker of concern creasing his otherwise smug expression.
"You're still glowing," he noted, not unkindly.
Arctha glanced down. The gauntlet on her arm pulsed gently, violet lines tracing up her skin like veins of lightning. It responded to her heartbeat, syncing with every thrum in her chest. She flexed her fingers. The glow faded a little, but didn't leave.
"I think my soul's having an allergic reaction to destiny," she muttered.
Before Cassian could answer, Variel's voice cut through the room, already calling out names—moving on to the next batch of students. Cassian's was among them. He gave her one last look before walking off.
Perfect.
With him gone, she had a moment to think… or scheme.
Her eyes wandered across the chamber until they landed on a tall, dark-haired figure speaking quietly with that odd kid who never made eye contact. Lucian Frostveil. She tried recalling what she'd seen in the mirror—but honestly, she wanted nothing to do with that uptight, terrifying version of herself. That woman looked like she ironed her morals and filed her emotions by category.
No thank you.
Why couldn't she just find someone with a future and ride that wave out? Lucian seemed like the type—stone-faced, powerful, going places. Definitely had the "mysterious heir to something important" vibe. And really, Arctha wasn't aiming to be a hero. Just not a total disappointment. Or that cold woman in the mirror with a destiny wedged where the sun didn't shine.
As she was about to approach Lucian, the kid with the sword—gripping it like it was a lifeline—stepped forward and walked straight into the mirror. No hesitation. Just gone.
Weird flex, sword kid.
Arctha made her move.
She crossed the chamber and slid into Lucian's periphery like a social ambush. "Hi."
Lucian barely looked at her. "Hello," he said, flat as winter.
Standing beside him, looming like a half-bored mountain, was Grunt McSwampington—probably not his actual name, but it fit. The guy gave her a grunt. Maybe it was a greeting. Maybe his bones were settling.
Undeterred, she smiled. "I'm Arctha. I just survived a trial that emotionally harassed me and gave my arm a glow-up. So, that's my day."
Lucian glanced at her finally, expression unreadable. "Sounds… eventful."
"Yeah, my therapist's gonna love it."
Grunt grunted again.
This was going great.
Meanwhile, inside the mirror, Cassian stood alone—until his reflection stepped out.
But it wasn't him.
The figure wore rags, hair unkempt, eyes wild. It looked like a version of him pulled from the gutter and left to rot.
Cassian narrowed his eyes. "Who are you supposed to be?"
The reflection smiled crookedly, then broke into a fit of laughter. It echoed too loud, too sharp.
"Cedric," it finally rasped, grinning ear to ear. "You can call me Cedric."
Cassian tensed. "Funny. I already know one disappointment by that name."
The reflection tilted its head. "Oh, you think you're better? Because you flirt and smirk and pretend you're not hollow inside? I see you. Hanging around that ise girl—hoping, maybe, she'll fall for the version of you wish existed."
Cassian's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
"You know how this ends," the reflection sneered. "No kingdom. No throne. You'll be just another expendable. Forgotten. Maybe if you're lucky, you can shine cedric's shoes."
Cassian stepped forward. "I'm nothing like you."
"Oh, but you are," the reflection hissed, voice dropping. "You're counting on that new girl—what's her name? Arctha? Hoping she's too green, too desperate to see the truth. That she'll tie her future to you before she realizes you've got nothing to offer."
The silence that followed was razor-sharp.
Cassian didn't blink. "You talk a lot for a reflection."
The reflection grinned wider, cracked and cruel. "Because I'm the part of you that knows how this story ends."
Cassian stared at him for a long moment… then smiled.
"Good. Because I've always wanted to rewrite it."
Cassian's grip on his sword tightened—then slowly loosened.
The reflection leaned in, smile twitching. "Oh? You really believe that?"
It scoffed. "Don't lie to me. You can't bullshit me—I am you. I know every crack in your armor, every truth you won't admit."
The reflection's voice dropped to a whisper. "That's how I know… I've already won."
Cassian muttered a bitter "Whatever," and turned away, pushing forward through the last of the Trial's haze.
When he finally stepped out of the mirror, the first thing he saw was Arctha—standing near Lucian Frostveil and that hulking shadow of a friend who never seemed to speak.
And then it hit him.
Maybe he could hide it. The lack of power. The cracks he refused to name.
Of course she wouldn't want someone like him—not after that.
His fingers loosened. The sword slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor as he walked forward, slow, quiet. Trying not to feel the weight sinking into his chest.
He walked toward the nearest exit, not slowing, not looking back.
Arctha raised a hand, waving him over, her mouth parting like she might call out—
But he didn't stop. Didn't even glance her way.
The sword he'd dropped behind him began to unravel, piece by piece, dissolving into faint particles of light that vanished before they ever touched the ground.
Cassian stepped through the threshold, the cold hallway beyond swallowing him in sterile silence. His boots echoed against the polished floor, too loud for how quiet he felt inside.
He didn't know where he was going. Just away.
From the Trial chamber.
From the mirror.
From her.
Cassian clenched his jaw. His hands twitched at his sides, already aching for the weight of the sword he'd left behind.
A bitter taste rose in his throat.
Of course.
She moved on. So easily. So fast.
He didn't say her name. Didn't have to. It echoed in his chest anyway, wrapped in frustration, betrayal, and something far too raw to name.
Without looking back, he walked on—
shoulders tight, heart heavier than steel,
and a storm building quietly behind his eyes.
The Trial was over.
But something inside him had only just begun to break.