"What's the second word?" Ivy asked.
Eli didn't answer right away.
They stood in front of the glass door, the strange not-Morley shimmering on the other side—white snow falling from a ceiling that didn't exist, students walking like they were tethered to different gravity.
The world behind the door bent light wrong. Made her dizzy if she stared too long.
Eli looked like he belonged in both places. And none.
He raised his hand, reached toward her, then stopped just short of touching her skin.
"It's not a word you're supposed to speak until your soul finishes binding to your mark," he said softly.
"Too late," Ivy whispered.
Eli hesitated.
Then said:
"Kiren'velleth."
The sound hit differently than Neh'varein.
That one had been quiet, anchoring.
This one was sharp. Cutting. It tasted like silver in her mouth.
Ivy repeated it under her breath.
The mark on her wrist flared violently—twisting outward like a root system unfurling across her arm. The crown symbol burned, briefly glowing down to her elbow before fading back to pale violet light.
The door responded.
The glass shimmered.
Then cracked.
Just once.
Enough to open.
Ivy stepped through.
---
The cold hit her immediately.
But not sharp, not painful. It was a gentle kind of cold—the kind that felt like memory.
The snow fell soundlessly.
The hallway stretched in impossible directions. Desks floated beside chandeliers. Lockers opened into gardens. The science lab dripped violet ink from the ceiling like rain.
And at the end of the hallway stood Calla.
But not the Calla Ivy knew.
This one wore full ripple armor—black glass over woven silver thread, an open glyph glowing on her collarbone like a badge.
Her eyes were wrong.
No fire. No sass. Just absolute stillness.
"Hello, Ivy," the mirror-Calla said.
Ivy's breath caught.
"You're not her."
"No," the mirror-Calla replied. "I'm the version of her that chose the Crown."
"She didn't choose the Crown."
"Exactly."
The mirror-Calla walked forward, boots not touching the ground.
"You've been asking the wrong question," she said. "It's not which version of you survives. It's which version of your world you're going to destroy to keep existing."
Ivy's heart pounded.
"I didn't ask to exist."
"But you do."
Ivy glanced behind her.
Eli hadn't followed.
The mirror-Calla moved faster now—circling.
"Every version of you has paid the price except this one. And the Veil doesn't leave debts unpaid."
"I don't even know what I did!" Ivy shouted.
The mirror-Calla stopped.
"You erased him," she said.
And suddenly, the walls around them filled with mirrors—each one showing a version of Eli dying.
Bleeding out in the orchard.
Falling through the ripple.
Burning at the center of a fractured glyph.
Ivy stumbled back.
The door behind her had vanished.
Mirror-Calla stepped closer.
"You broke the Veil to bring him back. And something else has to go. That's how the world keeps balance."
"I never meant to choose—"
"But you did," Calla said. "When you remembered him. That was enough."
The mirrors began to tremble.
One cracked.
Then another.
Eli's voice echoed from nowhere:
"Don't listen to her."
The real Eli appeared beside her now.
But his form flickered.
One moment solid. The next—rippled like reflection on water.
"She's the Veil's echo of Calla," he said. "She was made to pressure you."
"I don't understand."
Eli turned to face the mirror-Calla.
"You're not her," he said.
"But she was, wasn't she?" the mirror-Calla said. "Before you broke her."
The silence cracked like glass.
Ivy stepped forward.
Her mark pulsed.
"I'm not choosing between versions anymore," she said quietly.
"You don't get that luxury," the mirror-Calla said.
And the mirrors shattered.
All at once.
Ivy screamed, covered her face—
And when she looked up…
She was back in the real hallway.
Panting.
Covered in glass dust.
Arlo stood over her.
He held a piece of the mirror.
And it had her name etched in it—
But not her name.
Mirelen.
He looked at her with something close to fear.
"You said the second word," he said.
Ivy nodded, eyes wide.
"I think it remembered me."
---
End of Chapter Fifteen