The Hall of Echoes breathed.
That was the first thing I realized as I stood frozen beneath the towering mirrors. Each surface shimmered faintly, rising and falling as if inhaling my presence, exhaling memories I wasn't ready to face. The pearl in my hand pulsed in response, warm and steady, grounding me while everything else threatened to fracture.
EG stood several steps away, his reflection multiplying endlessly behind him. In some mirrors, he looked exactly as he did now—calm, composed, unreadable. In others, his expression darkened, eyes sharp with something close to sorrow. None of the reflections were identical, and that unsettled me more than any shadow or storm I had faced so far.
"You brought me here," I said, my voice echoing back from every direction. "Didn't you?"
EG did not deny it. He turned slightly, glancing at one of the mirrors as if weighing which version of himself to answer as. "I opened a door," he replied at last. "You chose to step through."
Anger flared in my chest. "That wasn't a choice. I was trapped. You locked me in a room, took my phone, watched me panic—"
His eyes flickered, just for a moment. "And if I hadn't?"
The question stopped me cold.
"If I hadn't," he continued quietly, "you would have walked back into the rain. The shadow would have followed. This time, you wouldn't have woken up."
The mirrors trembled, reacting to his words. I felt the pearl grow warmer, as if warning me not to push too far—or urging me to.
"You keep saying that," I whispered. "Like you know exactly what would have happened. Like you've seen it before."
EG met my gaze directly now. "Because I have."
The hall darkened. One mirror near the far wall brightened, its surface rippling like disturbed water. Without touching it, the image inside sharpened.
I saw the city street again. Rain pouring down in thick sheets. Neon lights bleeding into puddles. And me—standing under the streetlamp, soaked, trembling.
But something was wrong.
My shadow didn't match my movements.
It stretched longer, thinner, peeling away from my feet until it stood upright behind me. Its head tilted, watching. Waiting.
My breath caught painfully. "That… that didn't happen."
EG's voice came from beside me, low and steady. "That is what almost happened."
The scene shifted. The shadow stepped closer to the version of me in the rain, its hand reaching out—just as another figure entered the frame.
Him.
EG.
He stood at the edge of the streetlight's glow, rain parting around him unnaturally, as if it refused to touch him. He didn't approach. He didn't interfere.
He only watched.
My fingers curled into a fist. "You just stood there."
"Yes."
"Why?" My voice cracked despite my effort to stay composed. "Why didn't you stop it?"
"Because if I had," he said, "you would never have been able to see it."
The mirror shattered, fragments dissolving into light before they hit the floor. Silence rushed back into the hall, heavy and oppressive.
I turned on him. "So all of this—this tower, the trials, the mirrors—it's punishment?"
"No," he said firmly. "It's inheritance."
The word echoed unnaturally, as if the hall itself repeated it.
Before I could ask what he meant, another mirror flared to life—then another, and another. Images cascaded around us in overlapping reflections: strangers holding pearls like mine, standing before different towers, different storms. Some walked forward. Some hesitated. Some turned away.
And some fell.
"You are not the first," EG said. "And you won't be the last."
A chill crept up my spine. "First what?"
He hesitated.
Just long enough for me to notice.
The pearl reacted instantly—its warmth spiking, a sharp pulse shooting through my chest. Pain bloomed behind my eyes, not overwhelming, but insistent, like a door being pushed open from the inside.
Fragments surfaced.
A promise whispered in the rain.
A dragon-shaped seal burning briefly against skin—mine or someone else's, I couldn't tell.
A voice saying my name… differently.
I staggered, clutching the pearl. EG was at my side in an instant, steadying me without hesitation. His grip was firm, familiar in a way that made my heart ache.
"Stop," I gasped. "Whatever you're hiding—stop."
He didn't let go, but his expression tightened. "If you remember too fast, it will break you."
"Then why bring me here at all?" I demanded.
Because," he said softly, "the Hall of Echoes does not open unless the bearer is ready to hear at least part of the truth."
The mirrors dimmed, their restless motion slowing. The hall felt calmer now, as if satisfied—for the moment.
EG released me, stepping back once more, restoring the distance between us. "You don't need all the answers yet," he continued. "Only enough to survive what comes next."
"And what comes next?" I asked.
The floor beneath us shifted, lines of golden light spreading outward like cracks in ice. Somewhere above, deep within the tower, something moved—slow, vast, aware.
EG looked up.
"The echo doesn't end here," he said. "It only deepens."
I tightened my grip on the pearl as the hall began to change, my reflection staring back at me from every angle—no longer lost, but no longer innocent either.
Whatever EG wasn't telling me…
I was getting closer.