I'd been wandering for hours.
At least, it felt like hours.
The Hollow Exchange didn't have clocks... just the slow hum of unseen music and the flicker of chandeliers remembering someone else's dream.
My legs ached. The backs of my eyes burned. Every corner looked familiar, like I'd passed it already. Or dreamed it.
Alone. Drifting.
I thought I'd find something here. A trail. A clue. A name.
Instead, just one more stall. One more corridor.
One more promise wrapped in silver light and half-truths.
My stomach turned somewhere between the guy hawking memory-ink tattoos and the one selling incense "harvested from dreams."
I hadn't slept. Not really. Not since Anya told me to let go.
And now, exhaustion chewed at the edges of everything.
The lights shimmered too brightly. The shadows bent the wrong way.
I was unraveling.
I leaned against a cold stone wall... too clean for how deep we were.
I slid to the floor. Knees drawn in.
I tried to remember what I'd eaten today. Coffee in the morning. Two cold bowls of ramen at Karu's.
That was it.
My stomach felt hollow, but not hungry. More like something had been scraped out and forgotten.
Was this what Cayos wanted?
To send me chasing ghosts through a temple built from temptation?
I fumbled out the photo. Dropped it. Picked it up without thinking.
Anya, mid-laugh. Bright. Whole.
I stared until her face blurred.
Footsteps echoed. Then faded. Then echoed again.
Real? Or just this place playing tricks?
My fingers ached from holding the ring. The foil had creased hard into my skin.
I wasn't even sure when I'd pulled it out.
I should've turned back.
But I couldn't go home.
Not yet.
Not until I found something.Anything.
—
That's when I saw it.
A tent.
Purple velvet. Lanterns pulsing like distant stars. The seams shimmered like it had been stitched from dusk.
It hadn't been there.
And then it was.
The air around it rippled, not with heat, but memory.
The sign outside shimmered faintly, like it couldn't decide what language to use:
For the sleepless, the searching, and the still bleeding.(She left something behind. Come find it.)
I let out a single, cracked laugh.
Or maybe I just thought it. The air was too thick for sound.
Marketing. Like everything else down here.
But I couldn't walk past.
Not when it sounded like it already knew me.
I stepped forward.
The velvet brushed my hand. Too warm. Like skin.I didn't pull it aside.I blinked...
—...and I was already inside.
Inside felt like a different world completely.
It was dark, and dots of light surrounded me like stars. The music that had constantly been droning in the back had completely vanished, leaving just a pressure in my ears like the world had muted itself to make room for something older.
The tent was large. Much larger than it looked from the outside.
I looked around, only to realise the entrance was now gone, or shrouded in darkness.
I couldn't remember entering.
How easy it would've been to give up. To sit down. To rest for just a moment.
But I couldn't.
I needed to find out why Cayos had sent me here.
I took a step forward, trying to walk in a straight line, and stumbled over my own feet.
Then a voice rang out, coming from every direction at once.
Smooth. Soft. Female, maybe. Or something trying to sound like it.
Warm as breath against skin.
"You came looking for her. But you brought only yourself."
I turned to lie on my back, now on the floor.
The ground beneath me felt softer now. Carpet? Moss? I couldn't tell.
"Sit."
Not a request.
The stars above me rippled, then dimmed, revealing a table. Low. Wide. Petrified wood carved with symbols I didn't understand. Opposite it, draped in shadow, sat a figure.
No face. No features.
Just presence.
Pale fingers steepled over a deck of cards that pulsed with shifting runes.
I didn't remember sitting.
But I was.
"She left something behind," the voice said.
My hands clenched.
"Anya?" I croaked. The word felt wrong in my mouth, like I was borrowing it.
A long silence.
"You named her. Brave. But foolish."
The figure tilted its head.
"She made her choice. You followed. And now the thread tangles."
A flick of the wrist.
The deck cut itself.
A card flipped over.
It landed face-up.
A golden ring. Crushed. Blood smudged the edge, but the ring remained whole.
Barely.
I didn't look away.
My real hand found my real pocket.
The foil inside was still warm.
The cards waited.
And so did I.
"Ask your question," the voice said.
I blinked.
I didn't know what to ask.
So many words clawed at my throat.
Can I find her? Can I follow? Was I too late? Was I enough?
What came out was,
"Can I save her?"
Silence.
The stars above flickered. The walls leaned in.
"Ask better."
I felt something snap in my chest.
I leaned forward.
Tried again.
"Who was she before?"
Another card turned.
A girl with a cracked eye stood at the edge of a mirror. Inside it: the city burned. Behind her: a gate that hadn't opened yet.
"Before she was yours," the voice said, "she was marked by something older than love."
I couldn't breathe.
Older than love.
Older than me.
I told myself she needed saving. That the Reverie had stolen her.
But what if…
What if she had been walking toward it all along?
What if she was never mine to lose?
I gripped the photo in my pocket. The memory of a memory.
And for the first time, I hated it.
Another card spun.
A spiral staircase carved into a mirror, winding down into black.
At the bottom: a door with no handle. Above it, the sky cracked like old paint.
"There is a way," the voice said."But it does not lead back. Only through."
"Through where?" I whispered.
The stars dimmed further. The ground hummed.
"You've seen the shard. You've heard the hum. You've begged the Gate to make sense."
"The Citadel of Mirrors does not choose."
A pause.
"It reflects."
A third card turned.
A boy with his back to the world. One hand bleeding. The other holding light.
"You want to follow her?"
The voice sharpened.
"Then go to the Gate. Speak your truth. Mark yourself."
"And then?"
The figure leaned forward.
A glint caught on the edge of its veil. Metal, maybe. Or a dead star.
"Then you may catch up to her shadow."
The cards dissolved.
The stars blinked out.
The tent disappeared.
And the world…
—
…cracked open.
A thunderclap tore across the sky.
I was in my car.
Hands clenched around the wheel.
My hoodie soaked through.
The Gate of Reflections split the air above the city like a wound, bleeding gold and mirrorlight across the skyline.
I didn't remember driving.
Didn't remember leaving.
But I remembered the voice.
Mark yourself.
Catch her shadow.
I didn't move.
Not yet.
The photo was still in my pocket.
The ring, too.
The air buzzed. The Gate hummed like a pulse from something deeper.
Not an invitation.
A challenge.
And for the first time, I wasn't scared.
Not exactly.
Because something had broken in me.
Not shattered. Just… opened.
I looked up at the Citadel.
It wasn't waiting.
It was watching.
And I wasn't turning back.
I wasn't chosen.But I was already claimed.