The echo had dissolved into the shadows, leaving only the silence in its wake. But it wasn't gone. The pressure still hung in the air, thick and suffocating, and I could feel it crawling beneath my skin. The Hall of Echoes had no mercy.
I stood there, my breath shallow, my body trembling as I tried to steady myself. The mirror had shown me something I couldn't outrun — the truth of what I'd done, the darkness I had buried so deep within myself. I had faced it, but I could feel it waiting. Like the next part of the trial was coming for me.
"Is it over?" James asked, his voice a little strained. He was still clutching the chain around his neck, his eyes scanning the room as though expecting the next reflection to emerge at any moment.
"I don't think so," Arisa murmured, her voice laced with uncertainty. She was holding her mirror, her knuckles white from gripping it so tightly. I could see the flickering of light beneath the surface of the glass — the compass was reacting to something, but what?
Before I could answer, the ground beneath us shifted again. The hall stretched out in front of us, an endless corridor lined with mirrors that warped and twisted, reflecting distorted versions of ourselves in a never-ending loop. There was no escape from what the trial had in store for us.
"Focus," Alice's voice rang out again, though she wasn't physically present. It was as if she was embedded in the very air around us, guiding us through the darkness. "This trial is called Reflection Roulette. It's a game of choice, but also of consequence. You'll see versions of yourselves — versions that could have been. If you make the wrong choice…"
She didn't need to finish the sentence. We knew what would happen if we failed.
The first reflection appeared.
It was me, standing at the far end of the hall. But this time, there was something different. My face wasn't twisted in mockery or drenched in darkness. No. This version of me was… calm. Serene. Almost peaceful.
I stared at the reflection. What is this?
The mirror me lifted a hand, beckoning me forward with a slow, deliberate motion. Its expression was warm, inviting, like it was offering me a life I could never have.
"Come closer, Alex," the reflection said, its voice like a whisper against my ear. "Don't you want to live a life without fear? Without the weight of guilt? You don't have to be the person you are now. You can be better. You can be happy."
I felt the pull. The temptation.
But deep down, I knew it wasn't real. This wasn't me. This was just another illusion — another version of myself that was never meant to exist. I stepped back, shaking my head, forcing myself to look away.
The reflection's face twisted, its warm smile fading into something far darker. "You think you're strong enough to ignore me? To escape from what you really want?" it hissed, its voice growing harsh. "You'll always be trapped by your past. It will never let you go."
I clenched my fists, my heart pounding. "Shut up," I muttered, stepping away. I couldn't be distracted. I couldn't let the trial make me doubt myself again.
The next reflection appeared. This time, it was James.
He stood in front of a cracked mirror, his face frozen in a look of pure desperation. His eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of fear and anger, and his hands were trembling at his sides.
"James?" I asked, taking a step forward. But something about the way he looked at me… it wasn't right.
"You left me," the reflection of James whispered, his voice soft, almost pleading. "You left me behind. You didn't even try to save me. You don't care about me at all, do you?"
I froze, the words hitting harder than I expected. The reflection of James took another step forward, his gaze locked onto mine.
"You didn't even notice. Did you? How many times I tried to reach out to you, only for you to shut me out. You've always been too focused on yourself, on your own fears, your own guilt. You never cared about me. You never cared about what I needed."
The air seemed to grow heavier, the weight of the accusation sinking deep into my chest. My mind screamed that it wasn't real. This wasn't the James I knew. But the words, the look in his eyes — they felt so real.
"I did care," I said, my voice trembling. "I do care."
But the reflection of James only shook his head. "Not enough," it spat. "You'll never be enough."
The words hit like a slap. I wanted to reach out, to make him understand, but I knew it was pointless. This wasn't James. This was just another version of him — a distorted echo.
The reflection of James began to fade, but it didn't leave quietly. It melted into the shadows, its final words echoing in the darkness. "You'll never escape me, Alex. Not until you face the truth."
And just like that, the hall fell silent once again.
I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.
"Is this the trial?" Arisa asked, her voice thin. She looked pale, her hand still holding her mirror tightly, her face filled with concern. "Are we supposed to… what, choose between the versions of ourselves?"
"I don't know," I muttered, wiping my forehead. "But we have to keep moving. The reflections aren't real. We can't let them control us."
A new reflection appeared. This time, it was Arisa.
She stood in front of a mirror, staring at herself with wide, confused eyes. Her expression was one of confusion and fear. She didn't move, just stared at herself as if she didn't recognize the person in the glass.
But then, something changed.
The reflection of Arisa began to smile.
"Arisa," it said in a soft, almost amused voice. "You've always been so strong, so determined. You've never let anything get in your way, have you? But deep down… you're scared. You're scared that one day, you won't be enough. You won't be able to protect anyone, least of all yourself."
Arisa's face paled. She took a step back, but the reflection followed, its smile widening with each step she took.
"You don't want to admit it, but you know it's true," the reflection continued, its voice dripping with venom. "You're just a scared little girl pretending to be brave. You're not as strong as you think you are."
I saw Arisa's hands tremble, her mirror shaking in her grasp. "Shut up," she muttered, barely audible. "I'm not scared. I'm not afraid."
But the reflection laughed, the sound cold and cruel. "You're afraid of the truth. You always have been."
It was like watching Arisa break in real time. The reflection of her kept pushing, pushing her deeper into that place of doubt. I could see it in her eyes, the cracks forming, the fear blooming.
But I knew better. I couldn't let this trial get to her. She couldn't let it win.
"Arisa," I said, my voice steady. "You're not that person. Don't listen to it. You've always been strong. Always."
Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto mine. I could see the struggle in them, the fight against the reflection's words. But she didn't give in.
The reflection faltered, its smile fading, but the shadows still whispered.
I stepped forward, offering a hand. "Come on. We can't let it drag us down."
Arisa hesitated for a moment before taking my hand. We stood there together, facing the endless hall of echoes.
This trial wasn't just about fighting the reflections. It was about fighting the voices in our heads, the ones that told us we weren't enough.
And we would keep fighting.