Kael adjusted his jacket, the shard's pulse thrumming against his chest like a second heartbeat. The floating city of Zephyris loomed above him, its polished towers gleaming in stark contrast to the scorched and desolate Earth below. Ryn led the way, her neon-blue hair a bright streak cutting through the shadowy alleys of the city's underbelly. These lower levels were a maze of forgotten tech, rebel hideouts, and danger at every turn.
"How far is this Archivist?" Kael asked, his voice barely rising above a whisper.
"Far enough," Ryn replied. "He's paranoid for a reason. If the Council of Lenses knew he existed, they'd obliterate this place in seconds."
Kael couldn't shake the memory of the apparition—the older, scarred version of himself he'd seen after touching the shard. The warning had been clear, but the meaning remained elusive. The shard wasn't just valuable; it was dangerous, and Kael was tethered to it in ways he was only beginning to understand.
"You're quiet. That's not like you," Ryn said, breaking the silence.
Kael smirked. "Just thinking about how badly this could go."
"It's already gone bad," she muttered. "You're carrying a piece of the Infinite Mirror. That thing's not just a relic—it's a weapon, and a cursed one at that."
Before Kael could respond, a low hum filled the air. Ryn froze, her eyes darting upward. Hover drones. Their sleek frames glided above, searchlights scanning the alleys.
Kael grabbed Ryn's arm and pulled her into a dark alcove. "They're looking for me," he said, his voice tight.
"No kidding," Ryn hissed. "You just painted a target on your back with the biggest heist in history."
The shard's pulse quickened, and Kael felt a strange tug in his chest. The edges of his vision blurred. He turned abruptly, following an invisible pull. "This way," he said, not waiting for Ryn.
"Kael, what—" she began, but he was already moving. Cursing under her breath, she followed.
They emerged in a chamber hidden beneath layers of forgotten infrastructure. It was dimly lit, the air thick with dust. At its center stood a figure cloaked in tattered robes, their face obscured by a mask etched with shifting symbols.
"You are not welcome here," the figure said, their voice layered and distorted.
Kael stepped forward. "We need answers. The shard—"
The figure raised a hand, and the air grew heavy. "The shard speaks louder than you ever could. Its resonance disrupts the threads of what is and what could be. Why have you brought it here?"
"Because it's messing with my head," Kael snapped. "Visions, shadows of myself, warnings I don't understand. If you know something, now's the time to share."
The figure's masked head tilted. "The Infinite Mirror reveals truths, not visions. The shard is a fragment of your soul, splintered across realities. Each reflection you see is not an illusion but a piece of you."
Kael's stomach turned. "You're saying those… versions of me are real?"
"As real as you," the figure said. "But the shard's power is not without consequence. Every use tears the veil between worlds, creating instability. The Council seeks to control it, to rewrite existence itself. And you, Kael Draven, are the key."
Before Kael could respond, the chamber shook violently. Cracks spiderwebbed across the walls, and a deafening roar filled the air. The figure turned toward the ceiling. "They have found us."
"Who?" Ryn shouted.
"The Council," the figure said. "They will not let the shard remain in your hands."
Kael's grip on the shard tightened. "How do we stop them?"
The figure placed a hand on Kael's chest. "Embrace the mirror. Let it guide you."
Kael felt a surge of energy. The world dissolved into light, and he found himself standing atop a glass lattice, Zephyris stretching endlessly below. A figure approached—his older self, scarred and weary.
"You're running out of time," the doppelgänger said. "The Council won't stop until they've broken every version of us."