The image shows Neptune’s ocean cities. Vast underwater palaces with walls of transparent crystal. Two figures stand in a central chamber, a man and woman with Lady Nerida’s sea-green hair, her shifting ocean eyes. The woman is speaking to a crowd of Neptunians gathered, her voice carrying clearly. “The Sun King forbids prophecy that contradicts him. But I will not be silent about what the tides have shown me – the famine is engineered, the executions are genocide. Silence protects the powerful, not the people.”
A messenger arrives. “Lady Thalassa, Lord Nereus – the Sun King’s emissaries are demanding you cease all public sermons at once.”
“Tell them our stories and sermons are part of Neptune’s heritage,” Lady Thalassa says without looking up. “They belong to the ocean, not to any king.”
Hours pass in the mirror, compressed into moments. Then the palace begins to shake. Alarms blare. The crystal walls start to crack.
The life support systems are failing. Sabotaged remotely.
Water begins to seep through the cracks. Rising to their ankles. Their knees. Their waists.
In the corridor outside, a young Lady Nerida is being pulled away by a guard, screaming. The last thing she sees before the door seals is her parents standing in rising water.
The mirror releases us.
Lady Nerida stands perfectly still, her face serene. But her hands are clenched at her sides, and tears track silently down her cheeks.
The three mirrors go dark simultaneously.
We stand in the corridor, the four of us, surrounded by the evidence of my father’s crimes. The victims aren’t abstract anymore. They’re not political casualties or distant historical facts.
They’re my teammates’ parents.
Lord Castor’s jaw is still clenched tight. Lord Evander’s hands tremble. Lady Nerida still has tear tracks on her face.
They all turn to look at me.
I chose this path. I chose truth. I asked for no illusions, no sanitized versions of history.
And the maze gave me exactly what I asked for.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and my voice breaks. “I’m so sorry. I chose this path. I led us here. I didn’t know it would mean?—”
“You could not have known,” Lord Evander interrupts. His voice is still flat, controlled. “The maze responded to your choice. This is the consequence of choosing truth.”
“We needed to see it,” Lady Nerida adds quietly. “All of us. These memories … we carry them alone, usually. Separate. Now we carry them together.”
Lord Castor lets out a harsh breath. “Your father was a monster. We all know that. Seeing it again doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes one thing,” I say quietly. “You know what I am. Youknow whose daughter I am. You’ve seen what he did to your families.” I meet each of their eyes in turn. “Now you have to decide if you can still follow me. If you can trust me to lead.”
Lord Castor opens his mouth to respond, but the withdrawal hits before he can speak.
The nausea slams into me without warning. My vision blurs as I stumble sideways into the mirrored wall, my legs giving out. The energy cell in my sword’s hilt digs into my palm as I brace myself against the glass.
“Lady Cyra?” Lord Evander moves toward me.
I slide down the wall, ribs heaving. My hands shake so badly I can’t grip the sword properly. It clatters to the floor.
“You’re not alone anymore, remember?” Lady Nerida kneels beside me.
She’s right. I can’t hide it anymore.
“I’m addicted to my healing magic.” The confession tears out of me. “Just like my father was addicted to his sun magic. I need to use it. Every day. Sometimes more … and I haven’t healed anyone since before the trial started, so I’m … it gets worse when I’m stressed. And right now?—”
“Right now, you’re leading us through a nightmare maze after watching your father torture people.” Lord Castor crouches down in front of me. “Yeah, I’d say that qualifies as stressful.”
I look up at him, expecting disgust or judgment. Instead, he pulls a water flask from his belt and holds it out. “Drink. You look like you’re about to pass out, and I’mnotcarrying you.”
