I walked forward, each step a cautious beat in a song of dread. The stone beneath my feet felt colder now, almost spiteful, as if the maze was aware of my intrusion. The walls around me shimmered, fractured glass catching the dim light and throwing back twisted reflections. Each surface was a mirror, but none showed me as I truly was—my image bent and stretched, warped by the maze’s cruel design.

  The corridor twisted into a narrow passage, the mirrors tightening around me like a noose. My own reflection crowded me, a parade of eyes, all mine yet not. Each version of me wore a different expression—fear, rage, sorrow—emotions that I kept buried but now stared back at me with raw, unfiltered intensity.

  A whisper slid through the air, brushing against my ear. My skin prickled. There was power here, hidden beneath the reflective surface—a faint vibration that made my bones ache and my teeth set on edge.

  My eyes caught a faint glimmer ahead, half-hidden in the kaleidoscope of mirrors. An orb of Aerlyntium, its luminescence a muted silver-blue, threaded through the glass like a buried nerve. The light pulsed softly, a heartbeat behind the glass.

  “There you are,” I whispered, stepping closer. My breath fogged the mirror, my own face staring back at me through the mist. I reached out, fingers brushing the cool, smooth surface. The Aerlyntium rippled beneath the glass, a faint ripple of energy crawling just out of reach. I held my breath, waiting for the surge, the spark—

  {ERROR: INSUFFICIENT ORGANIC MATERIAL DETECTED. ACTIVATION FAILED.}

  I stumbled back, my mirrored selves mimicking my movement, their expressions twisting with my shock.

  Aurentum’s golden form fractured and reformed in the mirrors, his eye narrowing. {How amusing. The Aerlyntium refuses to activate.}

  Frustration burned in my chest. I had come all this way, ventured this deep, only to be denied by a technicality. My fists clenched, the mirrored versions of me copying the motion with eerie precision. “Then it’s useless.”

  {For now,} Aurentum’s tone was maddeningly calm. {The Aerlyntium is powerful, but it requires the remnants of life to function. Have you forgotten already?}

  The light dimmed, the Aerlyntium’s glow fading to a dull, sickly blue. It was close, so close—and yet impossibly out of reach. I turned away, my own reflection refusing to follow, leaving me surrounded by empty-eyed versions of myself.

  Aurentum drifted behind me, his presence heavy and inevitable. {Resolve is not just about pressing forward. Sometimes, it is recognizing what you lack and finding it elsewhere.}

  The mirrors watched, silent and cold, as I walked away from the inert vein, the echo of that mocking message—and my own hollow stare—trailing behind me.

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  "Dude, I don't get you first you were all sarcastic and threatening now you're playing wise and protective. I don't care which, but pick a lane."

  -

  I moved to the next room—the one I’d been waiting for, the best room of the whole run, hands down. But as I stepped inside, the weight of realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I had forgotten to turn off turn-based mode.

  A low groan escaped my lips, the sound swallowed by the mirrored walls. My own reflection stared back at me, a thousand faces wearing the same look of exasperation, the same narrowed eyes and clenched jaw. The maze twisted my frustration into a mocking chorus, my mirrored selves shaking their heads in silent judgment.

  I dragged a hand down my face, the cold sweat of regret prickling my skin. I could almost hear Aurentum’s condescending laughter before he even spoke.

  I facepalmed, the slap echoing off the glassy walls, sharp and unforgiving. “Unbelievable.”

  Deep breath. No use whining now.

  The room stretched out before me like a cruel joke, an endless corridor of polished mirrors reflecting infinity. Jagged pillars of fractured glass jutted from the ground, their razor edges gleaming with malice. Debris was scattered across the floor, twisted shards and shattered remnants of those who failed before me. At the far end, 500 yards away, a trio of enemies waited: a warrior whose armor glinted like obsidian, his axe gleaming with cruel intent; a mage, his hands crackling with arcane lightning; and a healer, his fingers already weaving shimmering shields around his allies.

  Ten rounds. The numbers would grow, each wave stacking like a nightmare staircase, relentless and unyielding. The obstacles in the room offered just enough cover to be a cruel tease rather than any real protection. And that healer’s shields? They wrapped around his comrades with an arrogance only magic could provide, shimmering with a sickly golden light. If I didn’t take him down first, this would turn into a slog.

  Aurentum’s cold, floating presence pulsed above me, his golden form splintering across the mirrors, his voice echoing from every direction like a cruel wind. {Perhaps if your mind weren’t tangled in such theatrics, you’d have remembered something so basic.}

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, drawing my bow. The string creaked, taut and ready. “Maybe if you floated less and helped more, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  He chuckled, the sound hollow and unimpressed, reverberating through the mirrored hall. {Excuses are cheap. Results are not.}

  I gritted my teeth, frustration tightening my jaw. The healer’s shield flared brighter, a luminous cage protecting his comrades with smug confidence. But his own form was exposed, standing apart from the others—unprotected, vulnerable. Classic mistake.

  I crouched low behind a cracked stone outcrop, the cold, jagged surface pressing against my back. Fingers tightened around the bowstring, muscles coiling with tension. The healer’s silhouette sharpened in my focus, oblivious to the silver streak already humming for his skull.

  “Alright, you over-glorified lightbulb,” I whispered, the words curling like smoke in the cold air. “Time to fix my mistake.”

  I drew the bowstring back, feeling the power thrumming through the weapon. The healer’s shield pulsed, a shimmering wall around his allies—but his own glow was defenseless. The arrow vibrated with anticipation, eager to taste flesh.

  I released. and as soon as I did, the turn-based battle activated.

  The arrow streaked through the air, slicing through the stagnant space with a hiss, the mirrored walls reflecting its deadly path a thousand times over. It moved faster than sight, a silver comet cutting through eternity.

  The healer dropped before his eyes even widened, the arrow sinking into his temple with a dull thud. His fingers twitched, the shimmering shields flickering, then shattering like brittle glass. Light cascaded down in a golden rain, scattering across the mirrored floor, leaving the warrior and mage defenseless.

  One down. Nine to go.