The Hollow King led Lioran to a black mirror — rimmed in smoldering cinder-runes.
"Do you know why your flame whispers?" he asked. "Because it remembers what you were before."
Lioran stared into the glass.
He saw a child in another world. A life untouched by fire. A boy who knew peace, laughter, stars.
A boy he could have been.
"I don't want this," Lioran said.
"But you opened the door," the King replied, "and that means you chose."
Lioran clenched his fists. The silver in his eyes sparked gold.
"No. I choose again."
The mirror shattered.
The Hollow King screamed—not in rage, but in pain.
His grip was weakening.