The marsh greeted him with silence—and rot.
A fetid expanse stretched before Caelen, where stagnant pools glimmered beneath a sky of muted gray. The air was thick with decay. Twisted reeds reached like fingers from the muck, and every breath tasted of something long dead. With each step, his boots sank deeper into the mire, the ground clutching at him like it wanted him to stay.
His curse stirred, twitching at the edge of his senses. Something was watching. Ancient. Buried.
He moved forward.
In the heart of the marsh lay a pool of still water, more mirror than liquid. It reflected nothing of the twisted landscape around it—only sky, and Caelen.
He stepped closer, breath catching.
The water rippled.
And the reflection changed.
It wasn't him—not really. It wore his face, yes, but the eyes were wrong. Cold. Empty. The skin was unscarred, the shoulders straight, the hands unnaturally clean.
No pain clung to him.
No sorrow.
Just a cruel smile.
"Who are you?" Caelen demanded, voice rough.
The reflection tilted its head, its voice a dark echo. "I am you. Without the curse. Without the burden. Free."
His heart pounded. "Free to do what?"
"To live," the other Caelen said. "To take what you want. To ignore the cries. Why carry the world when you can let it burn?"
Caelen's stomach twisted. The voice was calm, enticing. He saw in that mirror a man without wounds, without fatigue. Without love.
"That's not freedom," Caelen whispered. "That's emptiness."
The reflection laughed, brittle as breaking glass. "Is it? Look at yourself—bleeding for strangers who'd stab you for bread. Betrayed. Alone. What has kindness earned you but scars?"
Caelen's grip tightened on the Weeping Blade, its weight grounding him. "It's kept me human."
"Humanity is a cage," the voice hissed. "Shatter it. You don't need them. Not Elira. Not anyone."
He faltered, the temptation real. It would be so easy—to cast off the curse, to forget the names, the faces, the ache.
But then Elira's fire flickered in his mind.
The boy with no tears.
The healer turned to ash.
The mother's lullaby.
"No," he said, stepping back. "I'd rather break than become you."
The reflection's smile vanished. The mirror shattered in silence, ripples distorting its form until only black water remained.
The marsh fell still.
Caelen stood alone—but not hollow.
His path forward was no lighter, but his heart, at last, was clear.
He would find her.
No matter what it took.