At some point, he stopped crying. His tears had run dry, but the pain remained, a hollow ache that refused to fade.
"I failed you," he muttered, staring down at her face. "I couldn't protect you. I couldn't save you."
The grief threatened to consume him entirely. He wanted to scream, to tear the world apart, but all he could do was sit there, holding her lifeless body.
A soft voice echoed in his mind, not from the void but from deep within himself.
"Grief isn't something to overcome. It's something to carry. To live with."
The words stirred something inside him. He looked down at Rue's face, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.
"I'll carry this pain," he whispered, his voice steady despite the tears streaming down his face. "Because it's a part of me. Because it's a part of you."
As he spoke, the world around him began to shift. The oppressive gray light softened, and the weight on his chest began to lift. Rue's body faded from his arms, replaced by the
gravestone in the field.
He knelt before it, placing his hand on its cold surface.
"I'll carry you with me," he said softly. "Always."
The gravestone shimmered, and the mirror reappeared before him. Its surface was calm now, reflecting his face—tired, tear-streaked, but resolute.
He stepped through it, returning to the void.
Back in the void, Vale collapsed to the ground, his body trembling with exhaustion.
"I don't know how much more I can take," he whispered, curling into himself.
The memories of Rue still clung to him, but they no longer felt like an anchor pulling him down.
Instead, they felt like a part of him—a scar he would carry, but one that would remind him of what he'd loved and lost.
After a long moment, he forced himself to his feet. His legs wobbled, his entire body screaming in protest, but he refused to give in.
The golden mirror shimmered with a radiance that felt almost out of place in the cold void. Its warmth reached Vale even before he stepped forward, wrapping around him like a gentle embrace.
After the relentless darkness of the black mirror, this glow was a welcome change—almost too good to be true.
Despite the allure, doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind. Nothing here is what it seems. He clenched his fists, hesitating as he studied the mirror. But no matter how much he questioned, he knew he had no choice.
His hand touched the surface, and the golden light surged, pulling him in.
Vale found himself standing in a meadow bathed in golden sunlight. A soft breeze rustled the tall grass, carrying the scent of wildflowers.
In the distance, a small hill rose, crowned with a lone oak tree whose leaves danced in the wind.
He blinked, disoriented. The air here felt alive, buzzing with an energy that was both foreign and familiar. As he took a step forward, he heard laughter—joyful, carefree laughter that tugged at something deep within him.
Turning, he saw Rue. She was younger, her hair catching the sunlight as she spun in circles, her arms wide open as if trying to embrace the entire world.
"Rue?" His voice cracked, the sound barely escaping his lips.
She turned to him, her smile radiant. "Come on, Vale! Don't just stand there!"
His legs moved on their own, carrying him toward her.
She grabbed his hand, pulling him into her dance. The laughter spilled from her like a song, and for the first time in what felt like years, Vale laughed too.
The world seemed to shift with their joy, the sky glowing brighter, the wind carrying a melody that resonated in his chest.
He felt light, as though every burden he'd ever carried had been lifted.
But even as he revelled in the moment, a shadow lingered in the back of his mind.
The scene shifted to a small village square illuminated by string lights. People danced and cheered around him, their faces unfamiliar yet filled with a warmth that felt like home.
A band played lively music, and the scent of roasted food filled the air.
Vale sat at a table piled high with food he didn't remember eating, laughing along with the crowd. Strangers toasted him as if he were the guest of honor. The joy was infectious, wrapping him in a cocoon of comfort and belonging.
But as the hours passed, the scene began to fray.
The laughter grew louder, more forced.
The smiles of the villagers stretched unnaturally, their eyes unblinking. Vale's heart began to race as the golden glow of the world dimmed, replaced by an unsettling hue.
"What's happening?" he muttered, standing abruptly. The villagers stopped, their movements freezing mid-dance. They turned to face him, their hollow eyes staring into his soul.
The oppressive silence returned, and Vale's doubts came flooding back.
The golden world flickered, cracking at the edges like a crumbling illusion. Vale's surroundings dissolved, and he found himself in a vast, empty hall.
At its center stood a golden figure—a perfect reflection of himself, but its face bore an unsettling smile.
"You wanted joy, didn't you?" the figure said, its voice smooth and melodic. "You've carried so much pain. Didn't you deserve this?"
"I…" Vale hesitated. The memories of Rue, the village, the laughter—all of it had felt so real. And yet, it wasn't. "It wasn't real."
"Does that matter?" the figure pressed. "Joy is fleeting by nature, an illusion we chase to make life bearable. But even false joy can offer solace, can't it?"
Vale clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. "No. False joy is a lie. It numbs the pain, but it doesn't heal it. Real joy comes from the connections we make, the moments we live, no matter how brief they are."
The golden figure's smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet understanding.
"You're learning," it said softly. "Joy isn't something to cling to. It's a gift, not a shield. Treasure it, but don't let it blind you to the truth of life."
The golden world dissolved, and Vale returned to the void, his chest aching with a mix of longing and clarity.
The void shifted again, the oppressive emptiness giving way to something far worse. A new mirror emerged from the darkness, swirling with crimson and black, its aura radiating malice and finality.
It pulsed like a heartbeat, sending a shiver through Vale's entire body.
He stared at it, his instincts screaming at him to turn away. The air around it seemed thicker, heavier, suffocating him with an unseen pressure.
"This isn't part of the trial," he muttered, stepping back. "What is this?"
The mirror glowed brighter, the red and black hues mingling into a vortex that threatened to swallow him whole.
"Do I even have a choice?" Vale whispered, his voice trembling. A part of him wanted to scream, to defy the mirror, but he knew it would be futile.
He took a deep breath and stepped forward. The mirror rippled as he reached out, its surface pulling him in like quicksand.
Vale awoke on a stone slab, his limbs bound by an unseen force. The first thing he noticed was the cold—it seeped into his bones, chilling him to his core.
The air was thick with the stench of decay, and faint whispers echoed around him, unintelligible but filled with sorrow and dread.
"Where am I?" he thought, his heart racing.
The whispers grew louder, merging into a cacophony of voices. They spoke of regret, pain, and loss, their tones desperate and mournful.
Then came the first death.
Vale's perspective shifted, and suddenly he was someone else—a farmer standing in a field. He felt the sun on his skin, the sweat on his brow.
A shadow loomed over him, and before he could react, a blade pierced his chest. The pain was excruciating, sharp and burning.
He gasped as he was wrenched back to the stone slab, clutching his chest even though the wound was gone.
"That was…" He couldn't finish the thought before he was thrust into another death.
He was a sailor, drowning as icy waves swallowed him whole. Then a child, succumbing to sickness in a dark, cold room.
A warrior, cut down in the heat of battle.
Each death was vivid, visceral, and unrelenting. Every sensation, every moment of fear and pain, was real. Time blurred as he lived and died, over and over again.
At first, he screamed, begging for it to stop. But the mirror offered no mercy.
"How long has it been?" Vale wondered; his thoughts disjointed. "Hours? Days? Years?"
The deaths continued. Some were quick—a snap of the neck, a fall into darkness. Others were slow and agonizing.
Each time, he returned to the stone slab, whole but more broken than before.
"I can't… I can't do this," he muttered, his voice cracking.
"This isn't a trial. This is torture."
He tried to focus on Rue, on her smile, on the promise he'd made to keep going. But even those memories began to fade, replaced by an endless cycle of fear and pain.
"What's the point of this?" he thought, his mind spiraling.
"Why make me suffer like this? What am I supposed to learn?"
The voices returned, louder and clearer now. They spoke of acceptance, of inevitability, of the solace found in surrender.
"Surrender?" Vale thought, his mind recoiling. "No. I can't. I won't."
But as the deaths continued, his resolve wavered.
His body was unresponsive, his mind teetering on the edge of madness.
He couldn't fight, couldn't resist. All he could do was experience it.
At some point—he couldn't say when—Vale stopped fighting. He lay on the stone slab, his body limp, his mind quiet.
The deaths continued, but he no longer screamed or struggled.
And then, for the first time, there was silence.
He found himself in a vast expanse of white, the pain and the voices gone. A single figure stood before him, cloaked in shadows.
"Do you understand now?" the figure asked, its voice neither male nor female.
Vale's gaze void of any emotion bore towards the figure.
"..."
"Death is not the end," the figure said.
"It is solace. The final destination for all life. To resist it is to deny the nature of existence itself."
Vale still remained silent.
"It is inevitable," the figure replied. "And in that inevitability lies peace. To live is to carry pain. To die is to let it go."
The words struck something deep within him. He thought of Rue, of her lifeless body, and for the first time, he allowed himself to imagine her at peace, free from the burdens of the world.
A single tear streaked down his pupils now focused
The figure nodded, "finally your back ive reduced your memories for the last trial didin't want to completely break ya"
and the mirror reappeared before him. Its surface was calm now, reflecting his tear-streaked face.
Vale stumbled out of the mirror, collapsing to his knees. His body shook, his mind frayed, but something within him odd.
The void was silent, the other mirrors gone. He was alone....