Elias is separated from the others in the underdecks of the Righteous Abandon. There, in a place beyond mapped architecture, he finds a narrow corridor lined with fractured mirrors — none of which reflect correctly. And in one, a version of himself begins to move independently.
It doesn't copy. It doesn't mimic.
It speaks.
----
They were halfway down the engine corridor when the lights cut out.
Not flickered.
Not dimmed.
They stopped.
Emergency lumin-lamps snapped online with a low-frequency hum, but only for Volst, Malk, Bit, and Lirae.
Elias's torchpack did not reactivate.
Neither did his internal HUD.
One second he was walking alongside Volst, Bit at his back—
The next, he turned a corner and the hallway stretched.
Just enough.
Just wrong enough.
He turned back.
No one behind him.
No sound.
No echo.
Just an empty hall, lit only by his own flame, which burned weaker here — orange fading toward blue, like a dying star.
The System tried to restart.
It failed.
> Signal Interference: UNKNOWN
> Flame Compression: 34%
> Defensive Protocol: ISOLATED MODE
> User Status: Unobserved
That last word—
Unobserved.
Elias had never seen that before.
The System always observed.
He moved forward.
The walls changed subtly.
Paint peeled in patterns. Angled, deliberate.
They began to resemble writing, though not in any language the Imperium ever used.
The shape of question marks without the dot.
Then came the mirrors.
Six of them.
All mounted in sequence along the left side of a narrow hallway.
All fractured.
All slightly misaligned.
But not shattered.
Still whole enough to show a shape.
His shape.
In the first mirror, he blinked — and so did the reflection.
In the second, he turned his head slightly… and the reflection lagged.
Third mirror — the reflection stepped forward as he paused.
Fourth — it smiled.
Fifth —
It raised a journal.
Not his.
But one that looked just like it.
Black leather. Golden trim. Burned edges.
Elias took a step back.
And the reflection in the sixth mirror…
Didn't.
It stood still.
Watched.
Then — with slow, deliberate motion — it lifted a hand.
And pressed its palm to the glass.
The glass didn't fog.
It radiated.
Gold light shimmered out from behind it, spiraling along the cracks, turning each fracture into a vein of fire.
Elias didn't move.
The System flickered back to life — only for a second.
Long enough to log:
> Mirror Signature Match: 98.7%
> Identity Conflict Active
> Designation: MERCER.GHOST
> Status: Independent
> Communication Attempt Detected
The reflection opened its mouth.
And Elias heard his own voice—
But darker.
Not distorted — heavier. Like it had lived longer. Thought more. Seen worse.
"You've made it farther than I thought you would."
Elias tried to respond.
Nothing came out.
The reflection took a step forward inside the mirror.
"That's the problem with surviving, Elias. You start believing you deserve to."
He backed away.
The reflection didn't follow.
But it watched.
And it spoke again:
"I'm not your enemy.
I'm just the part of you that understood the cost."
Then the golden light faded—
And the mirror returned to stillness.
Just a reflection again.
Behind him, the hallway groaned softly. A power relay re-engaged.
He turned—
And the rest of the Black File was there.
Volst's rifle half-raised.
Bit's face pale.
Malk swearing under his breath.
Lirae staring directly into the final mirror.
Volst approached him slowly.
"You were gone for twenty minutes."
"I didn't go far."
She nodded once.
"We heard your voice. On the vox. But the signal wasn't coming from your pack."
Bit stepped beside him.
Said nothing.
But reached out and took Elias's wrist.
Just for a second.
Just long enough to check if he was still solid.
Still there.
Still him.
Elias looked back at the sixth mirror.
Nothing moved.
But inside, written in reverse script — just faintly in the corner — was a new phrase:
"We're not fighting, Elias.
We're trading places."
[END OF PART 3: He Who Speaks Like You]