---
The next morning, the fog had finally receded—but it left behind an unsettling silence.
Rin stood at the window of her clinic, staring at the sun that looked too pale for midday. Kael was already up and moving, packing a bag with tools, notes, and weapons. Neither of them had slept. Not truly. Her mind kept flashing back to the figure in the mist, the whispers that spoke without mouths, and the blood that wasn't ready to be dead.
She finally spoke. "The second noble. Who was he?"
Kael didn't look up as he tightened the straps. "Lord Reiken. Wealthy landowner. Same inner circle as Isamu."
"Did they ever meet publicly?"
"They all did," he said. "They funded the Moonlight Garden Society. A club for nobles with strange hobbies—alchemy, rare poisons, even rumor of necromancy. No one took it seriously. Until now."
Rin turned sharply. "You think it's connected."
"I know it is." Kael met her gaze. "That crest on the dead noble's ring—the same one we found in the chamber under Isamu's property? I've seen it before."
"Where?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "In a nightmare."
Rin raised an eyebrow. "Not the answer I expected."
"Not the one I wanted to give," Kael muttered.
They set out within the hour. Their destination: the long-abandoned summer estate of House Reiken, resting at the edge of the forest cliffs. It had burned partially years ago, during a mysterious fire that was quickly swept under noble rugs. But the foundation remained. And Kael remembered hearing whispers in the guard barracks—about rooms that hadn't burned at all. Rooms that were locked for a reason.
As they approached the estate's remains, the air grew colder.
The gate was barely standing, rusted and half buried in ivy. Vines curled like fingers around the edges of the broken arch. The estate itself looked like it had sighed into collapse—windows shattered, one wing completely caved in, but the center structure still tall and grim against the grey sky.
Kael didn't slow his pace.
Rin followed closely, trying not to look at the jagged windows. Some of them still held glass—fogged and cracked, but eerily intact.
The inside was worse.
It smelled of old wood, ashes, and the faintest trace of lavender.
Rin lit a small orb of alchemical light, letting it hover near her shoulder. The glow pushed back the shadows, revealing broken furniture, old portraits blackened by soot, and alchemical tools shattered across the floor.
But the deeper they walked, the more intact things became.
An inner corridor, untouched by fire, stretched ahead. On one wall hung a row of family portraits—each with the eyes scratched out. Except one.
A young girl. Pale, with eyes too wide and smile too still.
"I hate this," Rin murmured.
"Same," Kael said.
They reached a tall mirror at the end of the hallway—oddly clean, with only a single hairline crack down the left side.
It reflected everything behind them.
But not them.
Rin took a shaky step forward, peering into the glass. "Kael," she said, voice hoarse. "Come look at this."
He joined her, frowning as he stared at the mirror. "We're not there."
"No. But someone else is."
Behind them, in the reflection, stood a man.
Dressed in noble silks.
Eyes hollow.
Not moving.
Kael turned in a flash—blade drawn.
But there was no one there.
Rin's breathing quickened. "What did you see?"
Kael didn't answer right away. He stepped closer to the mirror, narrowing his eyes.
There, just faintly behind the reflection of the hallway, another image began to form—like a second layer beneath the surface of the glass.
A laboratory.
Shelves lined with vials.
Diagrams carved into the stone walls.
And in the corner, a desk.
Rin stepped closer. "This is an alchemical study. Hidden through reflection…"
She reached forward and brushed her fingers along the frame.
The mirror shivered.
A faint crack split across its surface with a soft ping, just as she spoke a name aloud—without even realizing why it came to her:
"Lyessa."
The moment the name left her lips, the crack in the mirror spidered violently outward with a screeching sound. The orb of light above them flickered.
Then—
Snap.
The mirror shattered inward, not outward, its shards folding into the wall like paper consumed by flame.
Behind it…
A narrow doorway.
Dark.
Uninviting.
Very, very real.
Kael looked at her. "You knew the name."
"I didn't," she said. "It just… came to me."
Kael stepped into the dark hallway behind the shattered glass, every step careful. Rin followed, hand on the charm at her neck.
They found the study.
Just like in the mirror.
A desk with vials, old scrolls, faded family crests. And on the center of the table—a diary. Bound in leather. Locked with a thin alchemical clasp. Carved into the cover:
Lyessa Reiken.
Kael glanced at Rin. "Your tongue remembers things your mind doesn't."
Rin shivered. "And this place remembers everything."
She picked up the diary. The clasp responded to her touch—clicking open with a gentle sigh, as if it had waited years for someone with her blood.
She opened the first page.
And read the opening line aloud:
"The dead don't rest. They wait."
Kael's voice was low. "Then we're already too late."
Rin's eyes lifted to a painting on the wall—half hidden under a sheet.
She pulled it down.
It was the same young girl from the hallway. Older now. A woman grown.
Same pale skin. Same too-wide eyes.
And around her neck—
The same charm Rin wore now.
Rin took a step back.
Kael caught her. "What is it?"
She looked down at the charm, then back at the painting.
"I think…" she whispered, "I'm not the first to carry this."
Kael looked at the diary, then the shattered mirror behind them.
And then, softly, like a curse—
"Lyessa didn't just study death."
Rin met his eyes.
"She built it."
--