Torin's tavern smelled of burnt wood, sour ale, and the kind of silence that only comes after someone almost destroys the world — again. We were sitting around the most crooked table in the hall, surrounded by empty mugs and a single candle that refused to go out, even with the wind sneaking through the cracks of the newly rebuilt roof.
"So…," said Vespera, spinning an arrow between her fingers like a toy, "is someone gonna explain why Liriel's necklace is glowing again?"
We all looked at the pendant hanging around my neck — the one that had saved Liriel from ethereal dissolution. It pulsed softly, like a tired but steady heart. The light was bluish, almost serene… until, suddenly, a golden thread mixed into the color.
Liriel, in her translucent spiritual form, floated beside me, arms crossed. "It's not just the necklace. It's her. Celine."
"She's crying again?" I asked, remembering the last time we'd heard that distant echo.
"No. This time… it's worse." Liriel frowned — something rare for her. "She's laughing. And not the kind of laugh that ends with wine and stories. The kind that ends with portals opening in a hundred cities at once."
Elara shut her grimoire with a thud. "That doesn't make sense. After everything we went through, Celine understood balance. She chose to stay in the divine plane to rebuild it, not to throw it into chaos."
"Gods change their minds," Liriel replied darkly. "Especially when they hear whispers that shouldn't exist."
That's when the tavern door opened with a sharp creak.
It wasn't Torin. Nor a drunkard. Nor a lost merchant.
It was a mirror.
Yes. A full-length mirror, with an aged ebony frame and silver runes engraved in ancient script, floating by itself a few inches above the ground. It stopped right in the center of the hall, facing me.
"Oh no," I muttered. "Not again."
"It's beautiful!" Vespera exclaimed, standing up. "Can I see myself in it?"
"DON'T TOUCH IT!" shouted Liriel and Elara at the same time.
But it was too late.
Vespera had already reached out her hand. The mirror smiled — yes, the surface rippled as if it had lips — and in the blink of an eye, she was gone.
"Vespera!" I shouted, running toward the mirror. My reflection wasn't there. Instead, I saw a dark corridor, with walls made of intertwined bones and a throne forged from shattered mirrors. At its center, sitting cross-legged, was a man with hollow eyes and a sharp grin. He wore black armor with silver details that resembled spiderwebs.
"Who is that?" I asked, my heart pounding like it wanted to escape my chest.
Liriel swallowed hard. "It's him. The Seventh General."
"But… Zephyron was already defeated!" Elara said, pale.
"Zephyron was the seventh," Liriel corrected, her voice trembling. "This… is the sixth. Malrik, the Weaver of Lies. He doesn't corrupt bodies. He corrupts truths."
The mirror shimmered. A soft, almost musical voice echoed from the other side:
— Did you think you had won? That chaos had an end? No. You were only on the first page of the lie.
Vespera appeared behind him, bound by strands of silvery light that seemed woven from other people's memories. Her eyes were glassy.
"She's seeing something," whispered Elara. "Something that isn't real."
"Of course it isn't," said Liriel. "Malrik shows people what they fear most… or what they most desire. And then convinces them that it's the only truth."
"We have to get her out of there," I said, already unsheathing my sword.
"With what?" Liriel snapped. "Weapons don't work against him. Only pure truth can wound him. And frankly, Takumi… are you sure you know what yours is?"
Before I could answer, the mirror turned. Now it reflected us — but not as we were. It showed Elara without her powers, crying alone. Vespera, abandoned by everyone, shooting arrows into the void. Liriel, back on the divine throne, cold and empty. And me… I was alone, holding an empty pendant, murmuring, "It was all my fault."
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, looking away. "None of this is true."
"But it could be," whispered the mirror. — And you know it.
Elara stepped forward, raising her staff. "Enough."
She closed her eyes and began to hum the melody of the fragments — the one we learned in the Catacombs, when we faced the Weaver. The same one that turns chaos into harmony.
The mirror trembled.
The distorted images dissolved like smoke. Vespera let out a scream and fell to her knees, freed from the silvery threads.
"What… what did I see?" she asked, panting.
"You saw what he wanted you to see," I replied, helping her up. "But it wasn't real."
The mirror backed away, floating toward the door. Before leaving, it dropped something on the floor: a small silver medallion with the symbol of a spider weaving a web in the shape of an eye.
Liriel picked it up carefully. "It's a beacon. He's marking us."
"Why?" I asked. "Why attack us now?"
"Because he felt Zephyron's absence," said Elara, still trembling. "And because he knows we're weak. Without allies. Without resources. Just with debts and a glowing pendant."
Torin, who had been hiding behind the counter the whole time, appeared holding a broom. "If this turns into another bill, I'm warning you: the roof won't take it."
"It won't be a bill," I promised. "It'll be a mission."
At the guild, an hour later, we received an official notice:
EMERGENCY MISSION – GOLD CLASSIFICATION
Investigate appearances of cursed mirrors in villages near Vaelor. Witnesses report disappearances, collective hallucinations, and… ownerless laughter.
Reward: 100 gold coins.
Warning: Do not look directly at the reflections.
"One hundred coins?" said Vespera, her eyes shining. "That's enough to pay for the roof, the stable, Gorrin's jar, and the week's wine!"
"If we survive," Liriel reminded her, putting the medallion into her backpack.
We left at dawn. The air was eerily calm. Even the birds seemed to have stopped singing.
On the road, Elara pulled me aside. "Takumi… what did you see in the mirror?"
"Nothing important."
"Liar." She stared at me, serious. "I saw you alone. And I got scared."
"So did I," I admitted quietly. "But we're not alone. We never were."
She smiled, squeezing my hand for a second before letting go. "Then let's show the Weaver of Lies that our truth is stronger than his."
By sunset, we reached the first village.
All the windows were covered with black cloths. The doors, locked. In the center of the square, there was another mirror. Larger. Older.
And around it, dozens of people stood still, motionless, staring at their own reflections… smiling.
"They're trapped," whispered Vespera.
Liriel looked down at the medallion in her hand. It pulsed in sync with the mirror.
"He doesn't want to kill us," she said, understanding. "He wants to recruit us. He wants us to believe his lies… until we forget who we are."
"Then let's remind them," I said, raising my sword.
And for the first time in a long while, I didn't think about debts, see-through clothes, or being called a pervert.
I only thought about a clumsy, imperfect, but loyal group.
And about the simplest truth in the world:
we don't give up on each other.
The mirror trembled.
And, deep within, something whispered:
— You've already lost. You just don't know it yet.
But, for the first time, I didn't believe it.