Chapter 4: The Hall of Mirrors
The night after the battle, the blood moon faded back to its usual silver, but the weight of what had happened hung heavy in the air. I had defeated Günther,
but I hadn't killed him. Something deep inside me wouldn't allow it. Maybe it was fear of what I might become, or perhaps something else entirely. Regardless,
I had left him alive-alive and humiliated, a dangerous combination.
I knew he wouldn't rest. He would return, and next time, he would be prepared. I needed to be stronger, faster, smarter. The thought kept me awake as I lay on the cold,
hard ground, staring up at the sky. My mind replayed the battle again and again, focusing on every mistake I had made, every moment I could have done better.
Morning came slowly, and with it, a sense of urgency. I couldn't stay here. Günther's defeat wouldn't go unnoticed by the King, and it was only a matter of time
before more soldiers came for me. I needed to move—and I needed to seek out the only person who could give me the power to finally bring down the Mad King.
There was a legend whispered among witches—a place hidden deep within the heart of the Land of Creation, known only as the *Hall of Mirrors*.
It was said to be a place where witches could confront their deepest fears and emerge stronger for it. Some said the Hall was sentient,
that it chose who could enter and who would be trapped within its labyrinth forever. Others claimed it was where the most powerful witches went to unlock
magic beyond imagination, if they survived the trial.
The problem was, no one knew where it was. Or at least, no one alive.
But I wasn't alone. The secret village I had fled to after leaving Andromeda's Bay was home to a powerful witch named *Nyssa*. She was old, ancient even,
and wise beyond comprehension. If anyone knew where the Hall of Mirrors was, it would be her.
I packed my belongings, slipped the vial of Stardust into my satchel, and set out for the witch's hut, nestled deep in the forest. The journey was perilous,
as the forest itself was known to play tricks on travelers, warping space and time to confuse those who wandered too close to its heart. But after days of walking,
I finally found her—the bent figure of Nyssa, her face half-hidden beneath a dark hood, sitting outside her crooked home, waiting.
"I knew you'd come," she said without looking up. "All those who seek the Hall eventually do."
"How—?"
"Because, child," she interrupted, her voice hoarse but full of authority, "the Hall calls to those in need. You've been chosen, whether you like it or not.
But beware the Hall shows no mercy. It reflects what lies within, and not everyone can face themselves."
Her words sent a chill down my spine, but there was no other way. I needed the power that lay hidden within the Hall. "Tell me where to find it," I said,
my voice steady.
Nyssa's wrinkled hand rose, pointing to the east. "Beyond the Black Forest, through the Valley of Echoes, and at the base of the Mountain of Lost Souls.
The entrance will not appear unless it chooses you. If you enter, there is no guarantee you'll come out whole."
I thanked her and set off immediately, my heart pounding in my chest. The journey was long and treacherous, the Black Forest a maze of twisting paths and
strange creatures that watched from the shadows. The Valley of Echoes lived up to its name, my own footsteps and breathing amplified a thousandfold until it felt
like I was being followed by ghosts.
Finally, I arrived at the Mountain of Lost Souls. Its peak was obscured by clouds, and the wind howled as if the very mountain itself was alive. At its base,
I saw nothing—no entrance, no doorway, just cold, unyielding stone. I stood there for what felt like hours, unsure of what to do, when suddenly the air shifted.
The ground beneath me trembled, and the stone wall before me began to shimmer like water. Slowly, a doorway formed, a dark, swirling vortex beckoning me inside.
The Hall had chosen me.
With one last look at the mountain behind me, I stepped through the portal.
The world shifted around me, and I found myself standing in a long corridor lined with mirrors. The air was thick with magic, and my reflection stared back at me
from every angle. But something was off. My reflection... wasn't just mimicking my movements. It was watching me. Judging me.
As I moved deeper into the Hall, the mirrors began to change. At first, they showed simple reflections, but soon, the images morphed into twisted versions
of myself—versions where I was consumed by rage, by grief, by power. I saw myself as a tyrant, as a killer, as someone no better than the Mad King.
I tried to look away, but the mirrors pulled me in, forcing me to confront every dark thought, every regret, every fear I had buried deep inside.
My chest tightened as one mirror showed me standing over Günther, my sword plunged into his heart, a smile on my face as I watched him die.
"No," I whispered, backing away. "That's not who I am."
But the Hall was relentless. Another mirror showed me wielding the magic I sought, but I was corrupted, using it not for justice, but for control.
The power twisted me, turned me into something unrecognizable, something monstrous.
Tears stung my eyes. Was this my fate? Was I destined to become like the very people I sought to destroy?
Suddenly, the mirrors shattered all at once, and I found myself standing in the center of a vast chamber. The air was still, and in front of me stood a figure
cloaked in shadow. It didn't speak, but I knew what it was—the final test.
Without warning, the figure lunged at me, a sword appearing in its hand. I barely had time to summon my magic, casting a shield just in time to block the strike.
The figure was fast—too fast. It moved like a shadow, slipping through my defenses with ease.
We fought fiercely, the clash of magic and steel filling the chamber. But something about the figure felt familiar. Its movements, its style, its presence... it was me.
Or at least, the darkest part of me—the part that craved power, that sought revenge at any cost.
I realized then that this was the final trial of the Hall: to defeat the darkest version of myself.
With a deep breath, I summoned all my strength, all my magic, and fought back with everything I had. The battle was brutal, and every strike felt like
I was battling my own soul. But slowly, I gained the upper hand.
Finally, with a roar, I plunged my sword into the shadow's chest. It let out a soundless scream and dissolved into nothing.
As the chamber fell silent, a single mirror appeared before me, reflecting not a twisted version of myself, but who I truly was. I wasn't a monster.
I wasn't a killer. I was Elijah—the boy who had lost everything but refused to lose himself.
The Hall had accepted me.
As I stepped out of the chamber, I felt the power of the Hall flow through me. I was stronger now, not just in magic, but in understanding.
I had faced my darkest fears and emerged whole.
But the war wasn't over. The Mad King and Günther were still out there, and now, I had the power to stop them.
