The world had changed.
Chris knew it the moment she opened her eyes.
Gone were the lush greens of the Weeping Marsh. The air, once thick with the scent of moss and wet earth, now shimmered with metallic tension. The sky above, once clouded and brooding, had turned pale — a whitewashed canvas laced with threads of flickering silver.
She sat up slowly, blinking against the strange glow.
Grey stirred beside her, his cloak torn, his armor scraped raw. He groaned, clutching his ribs as he rose on one knee.
"Where are we?" he asked hoarsely.
Chris scanned the horizon. "Not far from the marsh… but everything's wrong."
The trees were twisted now — their trunks bending toward unseen mirrors, their leaves catching the light and reflecting fragments of unfamiliar scenes. Shadows danced without a source, and the wind carried whispers — voices not their own.
The Mirrorheart had bled into the world.
Wale had won.
For now.
Chris steadied herself, rising fully. "We need to regroup. If Wale has begun rewriting reality, this is only the beginning."
Grey nodded, though his face betrayed his thoughts. Regroup with who? The Mirrorfall would've disrupted every leyline, every ward. Their allies — if they remained — would be scattered.
Still, Chris pointed north. "The Bastion at Vellin's Edge. It's the last fortress with a mirrored seal — if it still stands."
They moved quickly through the warped terrain. The world distorted around them in subtle ways: reflections in puddles no longer matched the sky; their shadows lagged behind instead of leading. A broken signpost greeted them at a fork in the road — its lettering reversed, as though seen from inside a mirror.
Even the birds overhead cried in reverse.
Wale's influence was spreading like a disease.
After an hour, the silence broke.
From behind a tree, a figure emerged — gaunt, wide-eyed, robes in tatters.
Chris raised her staff immediately, only to stop when the figure collapsed.
It was Eron, one of the Archivers from the Bastion.
Grey rushed to his side, rolling him gently. "Eron! What happened? Where's the Bastion?"
Eron coughed violently, his eyes unfocused. "Gone… it's all… silver now… he… Wale is everywhere. Not just outside. Inside. He showed us ourselves… but wrong. Beautiful lies, and we believed them…"
Chris gripped his hand. "What do you mean, 'inside'?"
Eron shook his head, whispering. "Mirrors… even our thoughts… aren't safe…"
Then he went still.
Chris stood slowly, her jaw clenched. "We're running out of time."
Grey rose beside her, quiet for a long moment. "It's not just the world he's changing. He's infecting minds."
"Wale always believed truth was power," she said bitterly. "Now he's rewriting truth itself."
They burned Eron's body. There was no telling if the corruption would spread otherwise.
By dusk, they reached the outskirts of the Bastion.
What once had been towering stone and sigil-carved defenses now shimmered like a mirage — its surface a patchwork of mirrored walls, reflecting back an image of a world that no longer existed.
The gates stood open.
Chris and Grey exchanged a look, then stepped through.
Inside was worse.
The halls of the Bastion were silent, but not empty. Archivers walked its corridors, smiling serenely, speaking to mirrors mounted everywhere. Some stared into them in silence; others wept as they beheld something neither Chris nor Grey could see.
"They're seeing what Wale wants them to see," Grey whispered.
A small girl passed them, cradling a shard of glass. "He's coming soon," she said softly. "He said he'll finish fixing the world."
Chris moved faster.
They reached the inner sanctum — once the council chamber, now a throne room of reflections. Where once sat the elders, now stood a single great mirror, rippling like liquid.
And from it, Wale stepped through.
Clad in silver and black, with eyes that mirrored the stars.
Chris raised her staff, Grey raised his blade.
But Wale only smiled.
"No need for violence. You're here. That's all I wanted."
Chris's voice was ice. "You're corrupting them."
"I'm liberating them," Wale said. "From pain. From confusion. From the lies they built their lives upon."
Grey stepped forward. "You've broken the fabric of reality."
"I'm reshaping it," Wale said, as calmly as a teacher correcting a student. "I'm giving them truth. The truth they need. The truth they crave. The truth they were denied."
Chris's grip tightened. "You were one of us."
"I was," Wale agreed. "Until I saw what we truly are."
He stepped forward, his tone still eerily gentle. "You don't have to fight me, Chris. Grey. You could help me. I can make the pain stop. I can undo your regrets. Show you a world where we never lost anyone. A world where we all understood one another."
Chris's eyes flicked to the mirrored walls, now beginning to ripple. Images danced across them: her younger self, laughing with Wale; Grey training with Lucien; the four of them — whole, unbroken.
But none of it was real.
"Those are just shadows," she said. "Reflections. I won't give in."
Grey raised his sword. "Neither will I."
Wale's smile thinned. "Then you've chosen pain."
He stepped back into the mirror.
And from every surface around them — dozens of reflections began to emerge.
Each one was them.
Perfected.
Stronger. Smarter. Smiling.
Wale's army wasn't made of monsters anymore.
It was made of what could've been.
And that made them far more dangerous.