Sunny woke to the sound of distant bells.
His body ached. Muscles sore, mind fogged like a battlefield after war. He had overused the ability—and now, even his dreams felt borrowed.
But the village wasn't done with him yet.
Kanah whispered to him. Not with voices, but with presence. The buildings leaned in. The wind carried names he didn't know. And shadows lingered longer than they should've.
He walked deeper into the heart of the village, eyes catching faded murals on broken walls—each one depicting events he didn't understand. A war. A betrayal. A boy with white hair and hollow eyes standing above burning bodies.
A name was scratched into stone in the old tongue. He didn't know how he understood it.
> "Sparow…"
The same chill from before ran down his spine.
---
A new structure loomed before him—tall and untouched by time. A temple, but no gods lived here. Only memories.
As he entered, the world twisted. Reality folded. The air turned thick.
A voice rang out—not loud, not close. But clear.
> "Welcome to the mirror."
The doors slammed shut behind him.
The temple was a trap. No. A trial.
Dozens of mirrors lined the walls—each one reflecting not his body, but his regrets.
He moved closer to one.
Suddenly—he was there again, standing over a corpse he had been too late to save.
Another—he was running from a burning house, leaving someone behind.
A third—he was crying, whispering, "Please don't go," to someone who never listened.
> "What is this…" Sunny growled.
Then a voice echoed again, this time younger, sharper.
> "A mirror can only reflect what you refuse to see."
A figure stepped out from the shadows.
He was young. Barely fourteen.
White hair, clean uniform, and eyes that gleamed with unnatural calm.
> "You're not ready for this place," the boy said softly.
Sunny froze.
This boy… it was him.
German Sparow.
---
But this wasn't an introduction. It was a warning.
Sparow didn't attack. He didn't scream or threaten. He just smiled, hands behind his back, like a student in a dream.
> "Kanah Village tests your mind, not your strength," he said.
> "If you break here, you don't die. You just become... part of the silence."
Sunny's heart pounded. He was trapped inside a mind-game, one where emotions were weapons.
> "Why show yourself now?" Sunny asked.
Sparow tilted his head.
> "Because you touched the veil. And once someone learns to see the truth, the truth begins to see them back."
Then the boy faded—like a dream on waking breath.
---
Sunny collapsed to his knees, gasping. The mirrors flickered, revealing flashes of Sparow's childhood. A hand on his shoulder. A voice speaking of survival. An ideology drilled into him.
> "Control is the only truth."
A mentor… someone like a ghost.
Sunny rose slowly, fists clenched.
> "I saw it…" he muttered. "Just a glimpse. But it was enough."
Sparow was no monster.
He was created.
And now Sunny had one more reason to fight.