The first crack sounded like a whisper.
A fracture, subtle yet undeniable, slithered through the air like the breaking of ice over deep water. Alaric stood before the great archway, its surface glistening like frozen starlight, a structure not of stone nor metal but glass.
The forge had left its mark upon him—his body hardened, his spirit reforged, his will tempered by fire. But the moment he stepped into this chamber, the fire within him seemed to falter.
This place was cold.
Not in temperature, but in emptiness—an abyss of silence where sound seemed to crumble before it could fully form.
And before him stood the Puzzle of Glass.
A Room Without End
Alaric took a step forward, and the glass beneath his feet rippled, as if he walked upon the surface of a frozen lake. His reflection stared up at him, not just one but dozens, stretching endlessly into the distance.
He glanced sideways. The walls, the ceiling, the ground—all reflections, all endless.
The chamber was not just made of glass.
It was glass.
And within its infinite maze, something watched him.
Something that did not breathe.
Something that did not blink.
Yet something knew him too well.
The First Fracture
Alaric lifted his foot, preparing to step forward again.
A voice shattered the silence.
"Will you break first, or will the glass?"
The words did not come from the walls, nor the reflections.
They came from inside his own mind.
Alaric spun, blade raised, heart pounding—but he was alone.
Except he wasn't.
Because in every reflection, his mirrored selves had not turned with him.
They stood still, watching, waiting. Unmoving. Unblinking.
And then, as if bound to some cruel design, they smiled.
Not in warmth.
Not in welcome.
But in knowing.
Like a craftsman who had already foreseen how his glass would shatter.
The Mirror's Truth
Alaric refused to hesitate.
He stepped forward—and the glass beneath his foot cracked.
A single fracture, thin as a spider's thread, spiralled outward from his boot. And with it, his reflection changed.
The other Alarics were no longer bound to his movements.
Instead, they aged.
In one, he was old and broken, skin pale, eyes hollow, body frail.
In another, he was a king, adorned in gold, a crown pressed upon his brow, his face marred by the weight of a thousand decisions.
Another still—a corpse, his body twisted in agony, a sword plunged through his chest.
Each fracture split another fate, another possibility, another path he had never walked.
But there was one reflection that remained untouched.
One that did not crack.
It stood at the centre of the glass maze, staring at him.
And it was not him.
It was something else.
Something was wearing his face.
And it was waiting.
The Maze of Decisions
"The glass does not lie," the voice inside his skull whispered again. "But it does not tell the whole truth, either."
The words sank into his mind like nails, and Alaric realised the test was not to solve the puzzle.
It was to understand what the puzzle was.
Each reflection was a different version of him.
Each fracture led to a different possibility.
And the maze was weaving his choices into something unseen—something forming in the very centre of the labyrinth.
If he made the wrong move, the class would decide his fate for him.
If he hesitated, he would become trapped in a reflection not of his choosing.
And if he failed entirely—
He would become nothing.
The Trial of the Shards
The only path forward was to move without fear.
To embrace the fractures.
To choose his own reflection before the glass chose it for him.
Alaric stepped again.
The glass splintered further.
With each step, a new fate tried to claim him—shadows of what he could be, what he might become, and what he might regret.
He saw himself betraying those he loved.
He saw himself dying alone in the dark.
He saw himself becoming a monster.
But he never stopped walking.
Because beyond all the reflections, he knew who he was.
And no illusion—no false fate—would claim him.
The Final Shatter
At last, he reached the centre of the labyrinth.
The final reflection stood before him—the one that had never cracked, never fractured, never wavered.
It raised a hand.
So did he.
"What are you?" Alaric demanded.
The reflection smiled.
"I am the choice you refuse to make."
Then it stepped forward, merging with him—
And the entire world of glass exploded.
The Puzzle Solved—and Unsolved
Alaric fell to his knees. The endless reflections were gone. The infinite shards had vanished.
He was standing in an empty chamber, surrounded by dust and broken pieces of glass.
But the puzzle was not truly solved.
Because he felt it inside him.
A fragment of the maze. A splinter of something far older than him.
The glass had shown him the weight of his choices.
And now, it would follow him, whispering, waiting—until the day he made the choice that it had already foreseen.
Alaric stood.
The puzzle
had not been broken.
It had simply been set in motion.
And the true trial had only just begun.