Lucien didn't fall far this time.
She landed softly—on the same ground, yet somehow… changed.
No more fog. Just a wide, open void filled with floating candles. Each flame pulsed like a heartbeat, hovering above shattered mirrors.
Across from her stood herself.
Same height. Same voice.
But her clothes were stitched from scrolls. Her eyes were calm, ancient—filled with answers Lucien hadn't earned yet.
"I waited long enough," the Mirror Lucien said.
"Waited for what?" Lucien asked, stepping forward.
"For you to stop hiding behind fear and excuses."
Lucien's chest tightened.
This wasn't a fight of fists. This was worse.
"You think I haven't tried?" she snapped.
"You think I wanted to forget everything?!"
The mirror self raised a hand—flames burst in a circle around them.
"No. I think you chose to forget.
Because remembering hurts more than bleeding."
Lucien flinched.
Images flashed through her mind—
Her childhood. The pain. The training.
The day she first held the shaman book… and cried.
"You ran from who you were becoming," the other Lucien said.
"Because becoming her meant losing what was safe."
"I didn't ask to be chosen!" Lucien yelled.
"But you were."
Silence.
The candles flared—revealing pieces of her past in every flame.
Her master.
The first soul she saved.
The boy she couldn't.
"Knowledge isn't power if you only read it," the other Lucien said.
"It becomes power when you choose to live it."
Lucien dropped to one knee, overwhelmed.
"So what now?"
The other version stepped closer.
Touched her forehead.
"Now… we stop being scared of who we were meant to be."
Light flared.
And when Lucien opened her eyes—
She was alone again.
But her arms?
Covered in shimmering glyphs.
Her aura?
Calm. Controlled. Ancient.
And her voice?
No longer shaking.