The deeper Mira walked into the Veritability, the quieter it became — not silent, but filled with soft echoes. Footsteps, voices, laughter… but none of it her own.
She entered a grove where the trees were silver, their leaves like glass chimes. In the center stood a mirror pool, still and black as ink.
The cat appeared beside her, unusually quiet.
"This," it whispered, "is where nature remembers. Echoes of choices, forgotten selves… and the truths we hide."
Mira stepped to the edge. Her reflection rippled — but it didn't show her.
It showed a version of her with antlers, glowing eyes, and wings of vine and flame.
She gasped. "That' s not me."
"It could be," the cat said. "A path you might take."
Suddenly, voices rose from the grove — versions of herself. Angry, joyful, lost, brave. One stepped forward, hand outstretched.
"You carry all of us. But only you decide which story to live."
Mira knelt by the pool. Her fingers grazed the surface.
Warmth. Then clarity.
"I'm not just one thing," she said softly. "I'm still becoming."
The grove glowed around her. The reflections faded, but the strength remained.
From the trees, a path appeared — glowing softly, leading forward.
The next trial was waiting.
(Fun stories by Gabrielle Ehi).