The staircase seemed made of translucent petals. With each step, a soft light lit up beneath Lily's feet. The robot walked silently, eyes alert, and the air carried a dormant scent — like the memory of a forgotten dream.
At the end of the stairs, a shattered glass door rose before them. It was tall, thin, and seemed about to collapse. Yet, there was a strange beauty in it.
Lily touched the broken surface with her fingers. The glass shimmered, then dissolved into the air like magical dust.
What appeared on the other side was not exactly a room. It was... a space. A wide, silent hall surrounded by old, crooked mirrors. Some cracked, others foggy, but all... alive.
She took a step forward. The reflections began to move on their own.
In one, Lily was a child — with tear-streaked cheeks and eyes searching for someone who never returned. In another, she smiled — but the smile trembled, as if about to break.
The robot approached slowly.
— Nothing here is what it seems.
A mirror in the back flickered. The glass trembled, as if containing something about to escape.
Then she appeared.
Lily.
But not the Lily of now. It was a pale, motionless Lily, with dull eyes.
— You tried... — said the figure in the mirror, her voice like Lily's, but empty. — Tried to be too strong.
Lily was silent.
— You didn't have to — the other continued. — You just needed... to exist.
Lily felt a lump in her throat. That version of herself... standing inside the mirror, so still, so broken. It was as if it reflected all the moments she pretended to be fine.
The silence in the room weighed heavily.
— I... — she tried to say something, but the words slipped down her throat powerless.
The robot approached, gently placing its metallic hand on her shoulder.
— You are safe. Here, everything that was forgotten can be carefully remembered.
The image in the mirror began to dissolve. Not like broken glass — but like ink diluted in tears. In place of the image, a scene appeared.
Lily, small, sitting on the porch of the old house, leaning on her father's shoulder. He told stories about a distant kingdom, with a flower that shone even in the dark. She listened with enchanted eyes.
— Do you remember this? — whispered the robot.
Lily nodded slowly, eyes watering. — He said I was like that flower. That even when the world was darkness... I would still shine a little.
Another mirror lit up behind her. It was more recent.
Lily running to her room after a fight with her mother, tears streaming, heart tight. But even so, she wrote in her diary. She kept going. Always going.
The room of reflections was not a place of pain. It was a place of memory.
— They still live here — said the robot, looking around. — In everything you were, and everything you are now.
She took a deep breath.
For a moment, she felt she didn't have to pretend to be strong. Not here. Here, she could just be Lily. The girl who had lost so much... but who still kept walking.
Then, a sound echoed.
Like glass breaking in the distance.
One of the mirrors in the corner cracked violently — and a black crack spread across it. It wasn't a memory. It was something trying to get in.
The robot positioned itself in front of her.
— We need to leave. Now.
But Lily stared fixedly at the cracked mirror.
Inside it, behind the mist... she saw a face.
The face of her uncle.
Lily felt the air turn cold as she recognized that dark face among the cracks of the mirror.The uncle — with his cold gaze, full of intentions she still didn't fully understand.
— He's trying to enter here — said the robot, its metallic voice heavy with urgency.
— But... — Lily hesitated, a fear mixed with growing determination in her chest — I can't let him take everything.
The mirror cracked, and a black shadow began to seep through the fissures like dense, cold smoke.
— We need to close this door — the robot ordered, moving quickly to activate its protective mechanisms.
Lily looked around, searching for something, anything to help.
At her side, on the floor, a small stone shone with a faint golden light — the same light of the flower her father had told her about.
She picked it up, feeling the gentle warmth spread through her palm.
— This is the key — whispered the robot.
— The key to what?
— To protect your most precious memories. To close doors that must not be opened.
With the shadow advancing, Lily raised the stone and, in a firm gesture, pointed it at the cracked mirror.
An intense light burst from the stone, bathing the room in a warm glow.
The crack began to close slowly, as if the light were a healing balm for the broken glass.
Her uncle's face vanished, growling in frustration.
— Not yet — Lily murmured, feeling a new strength growing inside her.
The robot smiled, or at least what looked like a smile on its metallic face.
— You have a strength you didn't even know you possessed.
Lily lowered the stone, feeling the weight of responsibility but also a timid hope.
— There is still much to protect — she said.
She walked to the center of the room, where the other mirrors reflected fragments of her story.
With each step, the floor beneath her feet seemed to pulse in rhythm with her heart.
She turned and looked at the robot.
— Do you think we'll make it?
It made a sound that seemed like a nod.
— Together, anything is possible.
Lily closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the stories her father told her, the promise of being a flower that shines in the dark.
She felt the warmth of that golden light grow inside her, illuminating her fears and doubts.
She opened her eyes, determined.
— Then let's keep going. No matter how hard it gets.
The farthest mirror lit up, revealing a path made of light and shadows.
It was the door to the next challenge.
Lily took a deep breath, took the robot's hand, and together they took the first step.
The glow of the stone in her hand pulsed strongly, like a heart.
And as they crossed the portal, Lily knew:she was ready for whatever came next.