Reflections don't lie. They show you what you've hidden—even from yourself.
The mirror rippled again, more violently this time, its surface twisting as if under unseen pressure. The hand, pale and inhumanly elegant, pulled forward. Then came a forearm, a bare shoulder glistening like moonlight on water—and finally, she stepped through the mirror as if parting a veil.
Lirieth.
Not quite naked, but not entirely clothed either—her body was wrapped in translucent silk, the fabric clinging greedily to every curve. It shimmered with every movement, sometimes opaque, sometimes scandalously transparent. Her hair cascaded down in waves of black and violet, catching the fractured light.
Her eyes—those terrible, beautiful eyes—glowed softly. Gold bled into violet, swirling in a slow, hypnotic dance. Mischief and menace made flesh.
"Asher Blackwood," she purred, voice like a lazy serpent sliding through velvet. She moved around him with slow, deliberate steps, as if orbiting something that belonged to her. "I told you we'd meet properly."
Asher held his ground. Barely. Every nerve screamed at him to step back, to raise a weapon, to do something—but his instincts, the ones tied too tightly to the mask now, whispered otherwise: Stay. Listen.
Across the chamber, Quinn stood rigid, her gun still aimed but her muscles locked. Her mirrored doppelgänger smiled eerily back at her—an imitation with eyes far too bright and a smile far too sharp.
"You've been watching," Asher said, voice flat.
"I've been helping," Lirieth corrected with mock innocence. "That mask of yours? It didn't wake up on its own."
Quinn found her voice again. "Wait—she's the one who cursed you?"
"Marked," Lirieth interrupted, tossing her hair over one bare shoulder. "'Cursed' is such an ugly little word. I offered him clarity. Power. He accepted it."
Asher clenched his jaw. "I didn't agree to you hijacking my head."
She leaned in, close enough that he could feel the faint heat radiating from her skin. Her breath brushed the sensitive skin just below his ear. "And yet... every time you needed it, every time you touched the mask... you reached for me."
Asher didn't move. He couldn't afford to show weakness.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
Lirieth stopped circling, her mood shifting in an instant. Her voice grew colder—no less seductive, but now edged with something steel-hard and ancient. "There's a bond between us, Asher. But it's incomplete. Fragile. I'm offering you balance—control over the mask's power… in exchange for something simple."
"Access," Asher said grimly.
A slow, wicked smile spread across her lips. "Very good. Access to your reality. A tether. One step closer to crossing over. No more whispers from behind the veil. I want to act."
"And what happens when you do?" His tone was sharp, controlled, but a muscle in his jaw ticked.
Lirieth giggled—a sound so soft and unhinged it made the hairs on Quinn's arms stand on end. "You think your city's worst sins are above ground? Darling, I am the softest monster waiting beneath it."
As she spoke, the mirrors crackled like ice underfoot. The reflections inside them twisted. The doppelgängers began to move—not mirroring now, but stalking, circling, studying.
"You're running out of time," Lirieth whispered.
Her words were a needle against Asher's skull.
"Make the pact—or be torn apart by your own shadows."
Quinn shifted, aiming her gun at the nearest fake-Quinn. "Asher?" she barked. "Do not sell your soul to a half-naked demon. Even if she's—" she gritted her teeth, "—weirdly hot."
Despite the chaos, a dry snort escaped Asher.
He could feel it—the weight of the moment pressing on him. The mask inside him responded, its runes lighting up faintly across his arms. Power vibrated in his bones, hungry, waiting.
He turned fully to face Lirieth.
"One condition," he said. "No leash. No slavery. This is a partnership. You don't control me."
Lirieth's pupils narrowed into feline slits. Her grin widened.
"Bold," she mused, voice low and thrilling. "Foolish. Irresistible."
She lifted her hand, fingers brushing lightly against Asher's temple. Her touch was shockingly warm.
The room exploded into sound.
The mirrors screamed—a chorus of shattered voices and ancient grief. Every pane of glass cracked at once, fissures racing through the silvered surfaces like lightning splitting the sky.
Then—
Shatter.
Glass burst outward in a brilliant, deafening storm. The shards hung suspended midair, sparkling like frozen rain.
Asher gasped, feeling everything—the rush of power, the rush of terror—expand inside him to unbearable size, then compress back into a single burning point in his chest.
Silence fell.
The mirror chamber was gone.
Or rather—it had changed. They stood in a void, surrounded by floating glass, the ground beneath them faintly reflective. The mirror copies were gone.
Only Asher, Quinn, and Lirieth remained.
Lirieth stepped back with a little flourish, satisfaction glittering in her eyes.
"Done," she said sweetly.
Quinn blinked rapidly, lowering her gun. "What the hell just happened?"
Asher looked down at his palm.
The mask's mark—once a sickly flickering thing—now blazed steady and bright. Not frantic. Not wild. Controlled.
Behind him, caught in a shard of floating mirror, he saw his own reflection.
It winked at him—then turned and walked away on its own, disappearing into the mist.
Asher's breath caught.
Something inside him had changed—and he wasn't sure it was something he could ever undo.
[End Of Chapter 33]
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Next Chapter Preview:Chapter 34 – Loose Ends and Lost NamesThe mirror chamber is destroyed, but Asher's connection to Lirieth is stronger—and more dangerous—than ever. As they resurface, a new crime scene awaits. A brutal echo of the past that links everything back to an old case Asher thought was buried... along with someone he thought long dead.