"Me?" (Gosh what did I do?) Ethan thought to himself
"Yes you young lad" She looked at him studying him "introduce yourself"
"I'm Ethan Von Claude" Ethan said still holding her gaze
"Ethan quite intriguing name and your will?"
She said putting a finger near her ear and tapping it
"I don't know yet Ma'am " He said
"Well don't fret this school will help you harness your will just perfect for today's lecture " She said "bring out your flask"
"As of today you will each make a solution reflecting your Persona and will by mixing the mixture with Speculorum Elixir " drop anything just a bit essential to you allow me to demonstrate "
The classroom hums with tension—metal cauldrons glint, vials shimmer faintly violet, and the scent of ether clings to the air. Miss Foxgloove glides between desks like a shadow wrapped in lilac silk, her movements so precise it's like she's conducting a symphony.
She says "The Specular Invitation doesn't reveal what you think you are. It unveils what your soul truly offers to the world."
She plucks a single strand of her amethyst hair and drops it into the cauldron.
The potion sizzles. The liquid ripples into shades of deep mauve and silver, forming what looks like a pulse beneath glass.
The reflection starts to shift—her face flickers, then morphs into a field of violet flowers dripping with dew that turns to venom. The flowers sway as though whispering secrets.
"My will," she murmurs, "is Persuasia. Not poison—but persuasion that seeps into thought and choice. A sweet surrender, not a death."
The students watch in hushed awe, the mixture still shimmering between beauty and danger—just like her.
The others move—Rai's lightning crackles through the glass tubes, Sylvette's brew sharpens into needle-like shimmer, Kai's mixture slithers green-blue, alive and reptilian, Raj's potion coils like toxic smoke.
But Ethan… he just stares.
The silver cauldron in front of him remains still—no reflection, no shimmer, just a black sheen swallowing the light around it. His hands tremble slightly, unsure where to begin.
Then—
A voice, soft and familiar, crawls up the back of his mind.
"You should brew…"
Ethan's heart jumps. He knows that voice. It's not Miss Foxgloove. Not anyone in the room.
It's himself, and yet… not.
He whispers under his breath,
"Zermorphosis?"
A ripple moves through the liquid like it heard him.
"Yeah," the voice replies, low and sure. "It's me… Don't worry. I got you. Will you let me?"
The air thickens. Ethan's reflection blurs—half his face, half something else. The goo within him pulses faintly, as though waiting for permission.
His fingers twitch over the cauldron rim. A drop of black essence slides from his palm and hisses as it meets the mixture—
—and the whole thing stirs itself.
His eyes widened, bewildered. Half of him hesitated—human, rational—but the other half moved on its own.
His right hand reached for the flask, fingers gliding with a strange precision that wasn't entirely his.
He stirred the cauldron.
The mixture shimmered faintly silver, then dulled to gray as he calculated the catalyst—movements mechanical, exact, too perfect. It was as if Zermorphosis itself guided his pulse, whispering in every flick of his wrist.
"Good," the voice murmured inside him. "You're doing fine. Just one more touch."
Ethan froze.
Then, slowly, he lifted his palm. A small fragment of black mass—Zermorphosis—slid from his skin, coiling and forming into a tiny, quivering shape that pulsed like a heartbeat.
It looked at him.
He didn't breathe.
And when it touched the elixir—
the entire cauldron darkened.
The mirror's light vanished. What sat before him was not reflection, but absorption. The Elixir turned into an abyss, swallowing every glint of color in the room. For a moment, he thought he saw his reflection again—then realized it wasn't his.
It was theirs.