Talin didn't speak much that night.
After Ghostlake, Raen rested in silence, and Nira busied herself scribbling fragments of the shard's whisper into her journal.
But Talin stood alone on a ridge—overlooking the drowned valley—fingering the edge of one of his twin blades, the tip resting lightly on his palm.
He hadn't told them what he'd seen.
What the Mirror Chamber showed him.
Because it wasn't a lie.
It was a memory he had buried so deep he thought it died.
---
📍 Four Years Ago – The Ironvine Sect
Talin wasn't born into a sword clan.
He earned his blades in blood.
Orphaned young, he was taken in by the Ironvine Sect, a mercenary order known for brutal efficiency and one rule: "Don't draw unless you're ready to kill."
Talin excelled. Fast hands. Faster wit. And by the time he was fifteen, he was already known as the "Spinning Reaper."
Then came Hollow March.
A routine purge of a whisper-infested village turned into slaughter.
Not whisper-beasts.
Not corrupted.
Civilians. Hiding whisperborn children.
Talin hesitated.
He lowered his blade when ordered to strike down a boy no older than ten—half-sick, eyes glazed.
The commander stepped in, finishing the job himself. Then, he turned to Talin.
> "If your hand hesitates again, I'll cut it off."
Talin dropped his blade that night.
And walked away.
Exiled.
A disgrace to the Ironvine.
They branded his name off the wall.
No revenge.
Just silence.
---
📍 Present – Ridge Above Ghostlake
Talin's hand trembled slightly.
In the Mirror Chamber… he hadn't seen that boy.
He had seen himself.
Finishing the job. No hesitation. Cold. Efficient.
> "You could've stayed," the mirror had whispered.
"You could've climbed higher. Stronger. Unafraid."
Talin clenched his fist.
That version of himself hadn't dropped the blade.
He'd become sect commander. Had followers. Fear. Power.
And nothing behind his eyes.
Raen approached quietly behind him, cloak rustling faintly.
"You've been quiet," Raen said.
Talin didn't look back. "Saw something I didn't want to remember."
Raen nodded. "Reflection?"
"Yeah. Showed me the life I could've had… if I let go of guilt."
"And?"
"I liked the strength. I hated the person."
Raen looked out over the horizon. "That means the Mirror Chamber failed."
Talin smirked faintly. "Don't get sappy on me, blade boy."
Raen grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."
A long pause.
Then Raen asked, "Do you regret walking away?"
Talin finally turned. "Only when I forget why I did it."
He lifted his blade and looked at its worn hilt.
"I fight with this now… so no one has to make the choice I did. Not again."
---
📍 Distant North – Ironvine Reclamation Unit
An armored scout handed a scroll to a cloaked figure seated on a black steed.
The figure read it.
"Confirmed. Talin survived the Ghostlake mission. He's traveling with the Veinblade bearer."
The rider lowered the scroll, face hidden under a jagged metal helm.
"Bring him home."
Another soldier spoke: "But Commander, he's been exiled."
A long pause.
Then:
"Even fallen blades can be reforged."
---