The chamber was silent, save for Hadrian's heavy breathing. The mist was gone, the werewolves vanished, yet the lingering presence of magic still clung to the air like an unseen force. Ignotus Peverell stood before him, his expression unreadable.
"You did well," the ancient wizard admitted, though there was no warmth in his tone. "But one victory does not mean you are ready."
Hadrian straightened, his muscles aching from the trial. "Then what does?"
Ignotus tilted his head slightly. "Understanding."
With a flick of his wrist, the chamber shifted again. The stone walls rippled like water, reshaping into a vast library, its shelves filled with countless tomes bound in leather and rune-etched covers. The air smelled of parchment, dust, and aged magic. A massive desk sat at the center, old but sturdy, and behind it—
A mirror.
Hadrian's eyes narrowed. This wasn't just any mirror. Its frame was black as night, carved with delicate runes that pulsed with ancient energy. It reflected his image, yet something felt… off.
"This is the Mirror of Anathema," Ignotus stated. "A relic of the Peverell line, far older than the one known as the Mirror of Erised."
Hadrian frowned. "What does it do?"
"It reveals the truth." Ignotus stepped forward, his gaze locked on Hadrian's reflection. "If you are to inherit the Peverell legacy, you must first understand who you are."
The mirror's surface shifted.
Hadrian's reflection changed. No longer did he see himself standing in the chamber—instead, he saw a different version of himself. A figure wrapped in black mist, eyes glowing with power, standing atop a battlefield littered with fallen wizards. Magic crackled around his form like a living storm.
Hadrian felt his breath hitch.
"That," Ignotus murmured, watching his reaction carefully, "is one of many paths you may walk."
Hadrian clenched his fists. "What are you trying to say?"
"Power is seductive," Ignotus said. "And you, Hadrian Peverell, are filled with it. But power without control? Without purpose? That is a road that leads to ruin."
The mirror shifted again.
This time, Hadrian saw another image—himself, older, standing at the head of a great house, surrounded by allies, family, and a throne of knowledge rather than conquest. His aura was still powerful, but it was not dark. It was balanced.
Hadrian swallowed hard. Two futures. Two possibilities.
"Which is the real you?" Ignotus asked quietly.
Hadrian turned away from the mirror. "The one I choose to be."
For the first time, Ignotus smiled.
"Then let us begin your true training."
—