And across the chamber, she’s waiting for me.
“Finally. You came.”
Her voice carries easily across the space, calm and sure. She steps forward, and I watch myself move with a confidence I’ve never felt. This version of me belongs here, in this beautiful place. She looks at home among the light and the glow.
I look down at myself—still barefoot, still in my sleep shirt, but somehow the wrinkles have smoothed away. Even here, though, I feel small. Uncertain.
“Who are you?” The words come out smaller than I intended.
“You already know.” She moves closer, each step deliberate and graceful. “I’m you. Without the chains.”
“You don’t feel like me.”
“Because you’ve spent your whole life being smaller than you are.” She stops just out of arm’s reach, studying me with green eyes that hold no doubt, no fear. “Do you see it now? The difference between what is and what could be?”
I gesture helplessly at the glowing chamber around us. “This isn’t real. Chambers don’t just—”
“You’re looking at the same place,” she interrupts gently. “You see it as you believe yourself to be—broken, surrounded by the ashes of failed choices. I see it as it truly is.” Her smile is soft but unyielding. “Sacred. Powerful. Beautiful.”
The mist begins to curl around my feet, hesitant and uncertain. In this place, it looks almost apologetic—like it knows it doesn’t belong among all this light.
She holds up her hands, and between her palms, something flows like liquid starlight. Not chaotic like my mist, but purposeful. Controlled. Beautiful.
“It hurts people,” I whisper, staring at the wild, unpredictable thing that follows me everywhere.
“No.” Her voice carries absolute certainty. “You’re the one afraid of being worth their hurt.”
“That’s not—I didn’t choose this.” The words tumble out desperate and raw. “I didn’t ask for the power, the bonds, the way everyone looks at me like I’m supposed to save them. I’m ruining everything.”
“They’ve already chosen.” She steps closer, and the light between her hands grows brighter. “You’re the only one still refusing.”
“Chosen what? To get hurt because of me? To have their lives turned upside down?”
“To love you.” The words hit somewhere inside I didn’t know existed. “To follow you. To build something new with you.” Her expression softens with something that might be pity. “You think you’re destroying them? No. You’re what they’ve been waiting for.”
I shake my head, backing away until I hit solid mirror. But this one doesn’t shatter—it holds firm, reflecting my face back at me with startling clarity.
“I don’t want this. I don’t want to be responsible for—”
“For what? Their happiness? Their power? Their choice to stand with you?” She moves closer still, until I can see myself reflected inher eyes—but not the me that’s here, uncertain and afraid. The me she sees is steady. Strong. Worthy.
“You call it ruin,” she continues, voice carrying the weight of absolute truth. “I call it rebirth. You think this power is a curse. I’ve always known it’s a gift.”
The beautiful chamber seems to pulse around us, responding to her words. The light grows warmer, more welcoming, and for a moment I can almost feel what she feels—the rightness of power claimed instead of feared.
“A bond isn’t a burden,” she says softly. “It’s loyalty sworn. Strength, not weight.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Do you still believe you’re too small for this?”
My knees buckle, and I slide down the mirror at my back until I’m sitting on the glowing floor. “I don’t know how to be what they need.”
“I lead because I never doubted I should.” She kneels in front of me, close enough that I can see the certainty in her expression. “You’ll be me, one way or another. The only choice is how long you fight it.”
“I don’t want to be you,” I whisper.
She smiles then—gentle but implacable. “Then you don’t want to be yourself.”
The beautiful chamber starts to flicker around the edges, the light wavering like a candle in wind. My vision blurs as something pulls at me—the Ether backlash, too much power with nowhere to go.
“You’re not weak,” her voice echoes as everything begins to fade. “You’re just afraid of how strong you truly are.”
