A ripple ran through the mirror's surface—subtle at first. Then the glass shivered. Our reflection blurred, smeared into shadow and light, until something else began to form.
An image!
Darius froze.
His brows knotted. His body locked in place. Breath hitched in his throat. His confidence had started to waver_just a bit.
"What is this?" he whispered, totally confused. "It's never done that before."
The haze sharpened. A wave of red energy surged across the mirror's surface, distorted and violent. Parts of a building collapsing in its wake. The world behind it was scorched, crumbling, devoured.
A small boy ran through the chaos.
He clutched something faintly glowing red—its light pulsing like a dying heartbeat. His frame was fragile, his clothes torn and soaked in filth and blood. His face was streaked with soot. He was terrified.
The image zoomed closer.
Same jawline. Same dark hair.
Darius.
But his eyes—brown, not violet!
How?
He was running. Trembling. Clutching what looked like a broken alchemical device.
Then—flash.
The red energy surged again. The boy ran alone, shaking, still holding the shattered device.
Another flash.
He skidded to a halt and his hand reached out, trembling, and placed the device into someone else's hands.
And Darius gasped next to me.
The scene shifted.
The person he left behind stared at him—eyes wide, mouth parted in disbelief—as fire swallowed them whole.
Then the boy's face filled the mirror. He whispered, "It wasn't me."
"No no no no" Darius started saying frantically. "Stop!" but it didn't.
A voice echoed from the depths of the glass: Liar. Another followed, colder, more guttural: Coward.
Darius staggered back, clutching his head between both hands. His breath came in ragged bursts. With a cry, he struck himself hard with a closed fist—desperate.
"You won," he gasped. "You won."
I blinked in confusion. He hadn't even lied.
Didn't he say the mirror only detects lies?
I glanced at Demonia in question. But she only shrugged, totally confused with what happened right now.
The image in the mirror began to shift again—but before I could see it, Darius stepped in front of me, blocking my view.
"Elena, please," he said, voice tight. "It was a mistake."
Something clicked in my mind— the gears started turning. I crossed my arms and stared at him, silent, waiting.
He let out a frustrated huff. "You won. You can ask for anything, and I'll give it to you."
"Anything?" I asked, raising a brow.
He hesitated. The word seemed to drag itself out of him. "Anything."
Behind him, the mirror pulsed once more—quiet, ominous. But that was for later. For now, I had what I wanted.
I raised two fingers. "One," I said, voice steady, "I have full control over my actions and movement through the house."
His face darkened, jaw tightening with anger. I gave him a look that said Really? He caught himself, exhaled sharply, and forced his composure back into place.
"Two," I continued, "you teach me alchemy."
He blinked, seemingly staggered, taken aback. His hand twitched at his side, then rose halfway in protest before falling again. His posture shifted, shoulders tense, eyes searching mine but he didn't argue.
Silence stretched between us.
By the time we stepped outside, the sun had already begun to dip. Afternoon light spilled across the training grounds, casting long shadows over the stone.
"You can go free Theodorus now. I'll pretend I didn't know or notice" he remarked. I froze, stunned that he'd known all along. But I said nothing. I walked away in silence, untied Theo, let him fall to the floor with a thud that almost made Demonia laugh, and returned to the training grounds.
Darius sat alone on a crooked, half-broken bench, his gaze fixed on the sky. Its color was shifting—from pale gold to bruised violet—the kind of hue that signals the day's quiet surrender.
There was something strange about it. I'd always believed I was the only one who looked at the sky like that. Everyone else moved through life in a blur, too busy to pause, too distracted to ask the questions that linger in silence. I wondered if he was asking the same ones I used to. And I wondered when I stopped looking for answers.
He looked burdened—like he was carrying the weight of the whole world. But there was peace in him too, a stillness that made me forget, for a moment, that he'd abducted me.
His elbows rested on his knees, chin balanced on one fist, the other hand hanging loose. He didn't move. Just breathed. Just stared at the beautiful sky.
I watched him. I wondered. I was curious_about what we saw today. But I didn't ask. Didn't push for answers.
Sometimes, feigning ignorance in a world that demands it becomes exhausting—like carrying a silence that grows heavier with every step.
I stayed there, quiet, for a few minutes—until he finally noticed I was there.
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, then tilted his head, resting it fully on his left hand. For a moment, he just stared. "For how long are you planning to stand there, staring at me?"
"I was looking for someone arrogant, and extremely annoying " I said, raising my hand to about the height of a dwarf. "About this tall. His name is Darius. Have you seen him"
He smirked and rolled his eyes.
The a faint sound.
A ragged, desperate breath tore through the silence from behind me, followed by a low, pained groan. I heard stumbling, unbalanced steps struggling to get closer. A voice tried to shout, but it came out as a pathetic squeal. "Darius!" it cried, strangled by pain.
I turned just as Theo staggered into the door. His face was pale, his face smeared in blood, his eyes wide and frantic as they scanned the empty training grounds for Darius. He saw me, and his breath hitched and gasped.
I met his gaze, lips twitching—slightly pursed with a faint, almost mischievous smirk. Well, I can't say I feel entirely guilty about him.