The morning after the clinic opened, Rowena woke to find Celestine sitting on the floor of her room.
The girl was cross-legged, her eyes closed, her hands resting on her knees. She looked like she was meditating—or perhaps listening to something that no one else could hear. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, and her face was pale in the early light.
Rowena sat up slowly, not wanting to startle her. "Celestine? How long have you been here?"
Celestine opened her eyes. They were the same deep green as always, but there was something different in them—a clarity, a focus, that hadn't been there before.
"Since dawn," she said. "I couldn't sleep. The echoes were too loud."
Rowena swung her legs over the side of the bed and patted the space beside her. Celestine rose gracefully and sat on the edge of the mattress, her hands folded in her lap.
"Tell me about the echoes," Rowena said.
Celestine was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Last night, I dreamed of a woman in a mountain village. She was teaching me how to make a poultice from yarrow and comfrey. I could smell the herbs. I could feel the cold air on my skin. I could hear her voice—not like a memory, but like I was there. Like I was her apprentice."
"That was me," Rowena said softly. "In my third life. I was a healer in a village called Thornwood. I had an apprentice—a girl about your age, with dark hair and quiet eyes. Her name was Elara."
Celestine's breath caught. "That's my mother's name."
"I know." Rowena reached out and took the girl's hand. "I don't know if it was the same soul, reborn. I don't know if souls work that way. But I know that the echoes you're hearing are real. They're not madness. They're connections—threads that tie this life to other lives, other places, other times."
Celestine stared at her. "Am I going to remember everything? Like you?"
"I don't know. Everyone is different. I remember nine lives because Caspian broke my soul and scattered it across worlds. You might remember only fragments. Or you might remember nothing at all, once the echoes fade." She squeezed the girl's fingers. "Either way, you're not alone. I'm here. And I'll help you understand what you're experiencing."
Celestine nodded slowly. "My mother—Lady Mirabelle—she doesn't know. About the dreams. About the echoes. She thinks I'm just strange."
"Strange isn't bad."
"No. But it's lonely." Celestine looked at Rowena with those deep green eyes. "You were lonely too, weren't you? Before you understood."
Rowena thought about her first life, her second, her third—the confusion, the fear, the sense that she was broken. "Yes," she said. "I was very lonely. But I found people who understood. And so will you."
---
Later that morning, Rowena went to find Lady Mirabelle.
She was in the small chapel again, kneeling before the altar. The candles were lit, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. Rowena knelt beside her.
"Celestine told me about her dreams," Rowena said without preamble.
Lady Mirabelle stiffened. "She's not supposed to—"
"She trusted me. Don't be angry at her." Rowena kept her voice gentle. "She's been seeing things for years, hasn't she? Visions of places she's never been. Memories that aren't hers."
Lady Mirabelle was silent for a long moment. Then she said, "I thought she was ill. I thought there was something wrong with her mind. I took her to healers, to priests, to anyone who might help. No one could. They said she was imagining things. That she needed rest. That she would grow out of it."
"She won't grow out of it. But she can learn to live with it." Rowena turned to face her. "I can help her. Not because I'm a healer—though I am—but because I've been where she is. I know what she's seeing. I know why."
Lady Mirabelle's eyes were wet. "Why? Why is this happening to her?"
"Because she's sensitive to the space between. The same space I carry inside me. The same space that connects all the layers of reality, all the lives that have ever been lived. Some people are born with that sensitivity. Most learn to ignore it. Celestine can't ignore it. It's too strong."
"And you? You can teach her to control it?"
"I can teach her to understand it. To live with it without fear. To use it, if she wants to." Rowena paused. "But I can't promise it will be easy. The echoes are loud, and they don't always make sense. She'll have good days and bad days. She'll have moments when she wishes she were normal. But she's not normal. And that's not a curse. It's a gift."
Lady Mirabelle stared at her. Then she bowed her head.
"Help her," she whispered. "Please. She's all I have left that matters."
Rowena put a hand on her shoulder. "I will."
---
That afternoon, Rowena began teaching Celestine in earnest.
They sat in the garden behind the clinic, away from the noise of the city, surrounded by the herbs that Rowena had planted in the spring. The sun was warm on their faces, and the bees hummed lazily among the flowers.
"The first thing you need to understand," Rowena said, "is that the echoes are not threats. They're not trying to hurt you. They're just... there. Like the sound of the wind, or the hum of the bees. They exist whether you listen to them or not."
"How do I stop them from overwhelming me?" Celestine asked.
"You don't stop them. You learn to let them flow through you without drowning." Rowena picked a sprig of lavender and held it out. "Smell this. Focus on the scent. Let it anchor you to the present."
Celestine took the lavender and breathed deeply. Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Now close your eyes," Rowena said. "Listen to the echoes. Don't try to push them away. Don't try to understand them. Just listen."
Celestine closed her eyes. Her face tensed, then relaxed, then tensed again. Rowena watched her, ready to intervene if the girl became distressed.
After a long moment, Celestine opened her eyes. "I heard a woman singing. A lullaby. I don't recognize the words, but I know the tune. It's... sad. But beautiful."
"That's good. That's progress." Rowena smiled. "The first time I heard the echoes, I screamed. I thought I was going mad. You're doing much better than I did."
Celestine's lips twitched. "That's not a high bar."
"No, it's not." Rowena laughed. "But it's a bar, and you've cleared it."
They continued the exercise for another hour—focusing on scents, on sounds, on the feeling of the sun on their skin. Each time, Celestine returned from the echoes more calm, more centered, more in control.
"You're a natural," Rowena said at the end. "It took me weeks to get to where you are now."
Celestine looked at her hands. "Maybe I've done this before. In another life."
"Maybe you have."
---
That evening, Rowena sat with Kaelan on the terrace, watching the stars appear one by one.
"Celestine is doing well," she said. "Better than I expected."
"She has a good teacher."
"She has a good soul." Rowena leaned her head on his shoulder. "I've been thinking about what comes after. After the clinic is running on its own. After Celestine doesn't need me as much. After we've done everything we came here to do."
"And?"
"And I think I want to travel. See the world. Not as a hero or a healer—just as a person. There's so much I've never seen in this life. Mountains, oceans, deserts, cities. I've spent nine lives in this world, and I've barely scratched the surface."
Kaelan was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I'll go with you."
"Even if it means leaving Verlaine?"
"Especially if it means leaving Verlaine." He turned to look at her. "I've spent my whole life in service to this city. First to my father, then to Celine, then to you. I'm not sorry for any of it. But I'm ready for something new. Something that's just for us."
Rowena smiled. "You're really not afraid of anything, are you?"
"I'm afraid of losing you. That's the only thing." He took her hand. "But I've learned that the best way to keep you is not to hold you too tight. It's to follow where you lead."
"Even if I lead us off a cliff?"
"Especially then. The view would be spectacular."
She laughed—a real laugh, full and warm. "I love you, Kaelan Veyne."
"I love you too, Rowena Ashworth. Whatever that name means now."
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the stars wheel slowly across the sky.
---
A week later, a messenger arrived from Ashford.
He was young, barely out of his teens, with a face full of freckles and eyes that were too serious for his age. He bowed to Rowena with the stiffness of someone who had been trained in court etiquette but hadn't yet learned to make it look natural.
"I bring a letter from Duke Armand," he said, holding out a sealed parchment.
Rowena took it and broke the seal. The letter was short, written in the Duke's own hand.
"Rowena—
Come to Ashford. There's something you need to see. It's about the mirrors. Not the ones we destroyed—a new one. It appeared in the throne room three nights ago. No one knows how. No one knows why. But it's humming, and it's warm, and it's waiting for something.
Or someone.
Come quickly.
Armand"
Rowena read the letter twice, then handed it to Kaelan.
His face paled as he read. "A new mirror? I thought they were all destroyed."
"So did I." Rowena stood, her heart pounding. "Maybe we missed one. Maybe Caspian lied. Maybe the ancients are waking. Or maybe—" She stopped.
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe it's not a threat. Maybe it's a message. From someone who wants to be found."
Kaelan stood beside her. "We should go. Tonight."
"Tonight." She turned to the young messenger. "Tell Duke Armand we're on our way. And tell him to keep everyone away from that mirror. No one touches it. No one looks into it. Not until I get there."
The messenger nodded and ran off.
Rowena looked at Kaelan. "I thought we were done with mirrors."
"So did I." He took her hand. "But maybe we're not done yet. Maybe the world still needs us."
"Or maybe," Rowena said quietly, "someone needs to say goodbye."
---
They left Verlaine at dawn.
Celestine came to see them off, her dark hair wind-tangled, her green eyes bright with something that might have been worry.
"You're coming back?" she asked.
"I'm coming back," Rowena said. "This is just... an errand. I won't be gone long."
"Promise?"
Rowena knelt so that she was at eye level with the girl. "I promise. And I keep my promises."
Celestine nodded slowly. "Then go. But come back soon. I still have questions."
"I know. I'll answer them all when I return."
Rowena stood and mounted her horse. Kaelan was already in the saddle, his grey eyes scanning the road ahead. They rode out of the city gates as the sun rose behind them, painting the sky in shades of gold and rose.
Behind them, Celestine stood alone on the hill, watching them go.
In her chest, the echoes whispered.
And somewhere in Ashford, in the throne room of the palace, a mirror hummed with a light that had not been seen in a thousand years.