Serine's steps were not entirely steady as she followed Craiven.
It was not because of a direct fear of him, but of the idea itself… the idea that she had begun walking in a direction she did not understand. The streets that had felt familiar moments ago now seemed different, as if they had lost some of their clarity — or perhaps she had begun to see what she had not seen before.
Craiven walked ahead without looking back much, as if he was sure she would follow. He did not try to convince her, nor did he offer any further explanation. That silence was more annoying than any words.
"Where are we going?" she asked finally.
He answered without stopping:
"To a place most people do not like."
"And is that supposed to reassure me?"
"No," he said simply. "But it is honest."
She narrowed her eyes but did not add anything. Instead, she watched the path.
They passed through alleys she did not usually enter. The walls here were older, the colors faded, the windows tightly shut. Even the sounds were fewer… or perhaps muffled. She felt that this part of the city was hiding itself.
"Why have I never come here before?" she muttered.
"Because you were not looking," he replied.
"I am not looking now."
He stopped suddenly.
She turned toward him and found him looking directly at her.
"Everyone who reaches here… was looking, even if they did not admit it."
She felt a slight discomfort but did not argue. For some reason, she began to feel that denial would not help her much with him.
He resumed walking.
After a few minutes of silence, they arrived at a small, nearly abandoned square. In its center stood a mirror.
Not an ordinary mirror.
It was tall, with a dark frame decorated with unclear engravings, as if it were older than the place itself. Its surface did not reflect images naturally — there was a faint ripple in it, as if what lay inside was not a reflection… but something else.
Serine stopped.
"What is this?"
"Something honest," said Craiven.
She did not like the answer.
She stepped closer, then stopped.
"It does not look… normal."
"It is," he said quietly. "We are the ones who are not normal with it."
She looked at him, then back at the mirror.
"What does it do?"
"It reflects."
"Any mirror does that."
"Not like this."
She approached slowly until she stood directly before it.
She saw her reflection.
Her face, her eyes, her features… everything as it was.
But—
She stopped.
She narrowed her eyes.
Something was not right.
Her reflection did not match perfectly. There was a slight delay — a fraction of a second, perhaps — but it was enough to make the image uncomfortable.
She raised her hand.
Her reflection hesitated… then raised its hand.
She stepped back.
"Did you see?" asked Craiven.
She did not answer immediately.
"Is that… normal?"
"For it, yes."
She fell silent.
"And what do you see?" he asked.
"Me," she said quickly.
"Are you sure?"
She hesitated.
She looked again.
At first, she saw nothing different.
But with focus… the details began to change.
The tiredness in her eyes seemed deeper. The faint lines around her mouth were clearer. Even her gaze… was not as she was used to seeing it.
It was harsher.
Or perhaps more honest.
She stepped back suddenly.
"I do not like this."
"No one does," said Craiven. "But that does not change anything."
She looked at him.
"Why did you bring me here?"
He answered quietly:
"Because you asked for the truth."
"I did not ask for it!"
"Yes, you did," he said. "When you said that something was not normal… you were opening the door."
She fell silent.
His words were not comforting.
"And then what?" she asked.
"That depends on you."
She looked at the mirror again.
It was there… waiting.
"If I look more… what will happen?"
"You will understand more," he said. "Or you will regret it."
"That is not a good choice."
"I never said it was."
She breathed slowly.
Then she stepped forward.
This time, she did not settle for a quick glance. She focused.
Her reflection began to change.
It was no longer just her face.
She saw herself… in situations.
Moments she remembered clearly.
Others… she had been trying to forget.
She saw herself smiling when she did not want to.
Agreeing when she should have refused.
Staying silent… when speaking was necessary.
She felt a tightness in her chest.
"Stop," said Craiven quietly.
But she did not stop.
She saw more.
She saw her fear.
Not of people… but of being different.
She saw how she had chosen safety over honesty.
And how she convinced herself that this was "normal."
She pulled back suddenly.
She caught her breath with difficulty.
"That is… not just a reflection."
"I never said it was."
She looked at him with tense eyes.
"It shows things I do not want to see."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because they exist," he interrupted quietly.
She fell silent.
She felt anger.
"This is not fair."
"Truth rarely is."
She moved away from the mirror.
"I do not need this."
He did not reply.
That made her even angrier.
"Did you hear me? I—"
"If you did not need it," he said quietly, "why can you not ignore it?"
She froze.
She looked at the mirror.
Then at the ground.
Then at him.
She found no answer.
She was silent for a few seconds.
Then she said in a softer voice:
"What is in there?" She pointed toward the depth of the mirror.
He looked at her, as if he had been waiting for this question.
"Someone."
"Who?"
"Someone who does not lie."
She felt a slight chill.
"And is that good?"
"You will decide for yourself."
She hesitated.
Then she stepped closer.
"If I look deeper… will I see him?"
"Yes."
"And will he see me?"
He smiled faintly.
"Always."
She fell silent.
She felt that something was about to change.
But she did not step back.
She raised her gaze.
And looked… deeply.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—
The image moved.
She no longer saw herself.
But someone else.
Standing in a dark place.
His features were clear… clearer than they should be.
He was looking directly at her.
Without hesitation.
Without any attempt to hide anything.
She felt something heavy pass through her.
"Who is that…?" she whispered.
"Ilthar," said Craiven.
She could not look away.
"He is… real?"
"More than you would wish."
The man inside the mirror moved.
He came closer.
Until his face was near the surface.
"Finally…" he said in a low but clear voice. "Someone who looks."
She stepped back.
But she could not break the connection entirely.
"You are late," he said.
"I— I do not know you," she said with difficulty.
"But I know you," he replied quietly.
She felt a tightness.
"How?"
"Because you have begun," he said. "And that is enough."
She fell silent.
She did not know what to say.
Then he said:
"Do you truly want to see?"
She looked at him.
Then at Craiven.
Then back at him.
She did not answer.
But she did not step away.
And that was enough.
End of Chapter Two
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