Page 107 of The Eternal Mirror
“What does that mean—?”
But she’s already gone.
And the Mirror shifts.
I’m falling. Spinning. Sinking into reflection—
I see the world as he wants it.
Skies black and silver, stitched with lightning. Oceans thick like oil. Mountains hollowed out and glowing red from within. Cities overrun—twisted towers of bone and glass.
The wolves run wild, feral, eyes glowing with beast-magic they can’t control. Witches kneel in cages made of their own bones. Children are branded with mirror shards in their foreheads, glass glinting where innocence used to be.
Every face reflects him.
Khronus.
Every voice sings his name like a spell.
The Mirror hangs low in the sky now—no longer spinning, massive, cracked, bleeding light. The whole world is twisted around its gravity. I feel it pulling at me, wanting me to become part ofit.
No!
I scream. But no sound comes.
The Mirror splits wide open.
I jolt awake.
Heart hammering. Skin damp. Mouth full of ash. Outside, someone’s yelling. No—not yelling. Sounding the alarm.
I’m alone, but the scent of Khaosti lingers in the air. Boots pound past the tent. Shouts. Metal against metal. Distant firelight flickering against the canvas.
I throw off the blanket and grab the sword leaning against the wall.
The sky outside is glowing red.
We’re under attack.
Chapter 39
The Night Everything Burns
The camp is on fire.
That’s my first thought when I burst out of the tent, my heart still hammering from the vision. For a second, I think I’m still dreaming. Still trapped.
But the acrid fumes scorch the back of my throat.
This is real.
The air reeks of smoke, blood, and something darker—something magical. Screams slice through the night like arrows. There’s shouting. Metal. Flame. Chaos.
Someone grabs me, and I whirl around and kick out before I realize that it’s Khaosti, barely managing to stop myself from kicking him in the balls.
One hand is on my shoulder, the other holding a sword slick with blood. His eyes glow—just a little. Just enough to say this is bad.
“What happened?” I ask, though it’s pretty obvious.
