The Mirror Gate howled like a wounded beast.
Glass veins split across its surface, glowing red and silver, pulsing in time with Aria's heartbeat. Every breath she took drew the shattered reflection closer—the twisted version of herself emerging from the smoke beyond the veil.
Her eyes.
They were hers, but empty. Hungry. Wearing the same crown Aria now bore—the Crown of the Moonborne Queen—but warped, the metal blackened by hate and scorched desire.
"You invited me the moment you put that crown on," the shadow Aria hissed from behind the veil, her voice layered in echo and venom. "You just thought you could wear power without consequence."
Aria couldn't look away. Her knees felt weak, the air too thick, like she was drowning on land. The bone-and-ash crown on her head throbbed with heat.
"I'm not you," Aria whispered.
The shadow laughed. "You're not yet."
