**Chapter 10: The Trial of Names**
The moment Elias said the words, "Let's play," reality didn't shatter. It *folded*. Like paper catching fire at the corners, curling inward, devouring itself.
The silhouettes surrounding him—thousands of them, faceless, quiet—evaporated into flickers of light and then into nothing. Not even ashes remained.
**Silence.**
Heavy. Pressing. Not the absence of sound, but the presence of something deeper. Like the silence inside a cathedral after midnight, or between two people after everything has been said.
Then—
Light.
A sterile, piercing white that carried no warmth. It wasn't brightness—it was *exposure*. Elias squinted. The air smelled like disinfectant and scorched metal, dry as static. It scraped his throat as he breathed it in.
He stood in a hallway. No doors. No windows. The floor was cool beneath his bare feet—like marble—but it gave a little, like muscle under skin. He knelt briefly, touched it. Smooth, but oddly moist. A faint pulse tickled his palm.
To the left: a wall of mirrors stretching endlessly. Each mirror a perfect rectangle, their frames etched in symbols that swam when stared at. The reflections didn't match—each showed a different Elias.
To the right: nothing. Just a sheer drop into ink-black void. A wind stirred from it, cold and wet, carrying the faintest scent of moss and old water.
Before him, hovering midair like a projection glitching through time, were words:
> **[TRIAL I: THE NAME YOU LEFT BEHIND]**
Beneath it:
> *"Speak your name to begin."*
Elias blinked. Easy enough. He licked his lips—they tasted like copper and dust.
"Elias Vale," he said.
Nothing.
The projection shimmered.
> *"Incorrect."*
The mirrors hummed.
A ripple ran through the glass, like breath on cold windows.
In the first mirror: a young boy in a blanket fort, flashlight in hand, face sticky with melted chocolate. He smiled wide, unguarded.
Second mirror: teenage Elias, hunched over a notebook, headphones blaring chiptune. Scribbles lined the page—game mechanics, hand-drawn maps, impossible creatures.
Third: a man in a quiet café, staring out the window as raindrops raced down the glass. Across from him sat a woman, face blurred, lips moving slowly. Elias didn't move in that memory. His eyes were hollow.
Dozens more mirrors flickered to life.
Each one held a moment: birthdays forgotten, lonely subway rides, whispered confessions in online chatrooms, the thrill of his first mod gaining attention, the despair after his mother's funeral, the ache of disconnection even in a room full of friends.
Then—
One mirror at the end of the hall. Unlike the others, its frame was blackened, scorched at the edges. A red seam ran through its center like a wound stitched shut.
Inside it stood **him**. But not quite.
The skin was too pale. The smile too wide. The left eye a pulsing red ring. The rest of the face—Elias's. But drained. Hollowed.
It spoke without sound:
_"You don't remember who you were,"_ the thing said, its voice pressing into Elias's bones like pressure under deep water. _"So how can you know who you are now?"_
The hallway behind him was gone.
Only forward remained.
> **[TRIAL OBJECTIVE: Reclaim the Forgotten Name.]**
The world tilted.
Elias didn't fall. He *sank*. Into a mirror. Into himself.
---
He hit carpet.
His childhood bedroom.
The scent of dust and aging books filled his nose. Faint whiffs of old electronics, the plasticky tang of old game controllers. Rain pelted the window—steady, soft.
The lamp glowed orange. Familiar.
A child—*himself*—sat on the bed, knees tucked to his chest, crying quietly into a threadbare pillow. His body was shaking, but his voice was barely a whisper.
"Don't let them take it from me," the child said without looking up. "Please. Don't forget my name."
A noise. The doorknob twisted.
The air pressure changed.
Then—
Figures poured into the room.
Shadows wearing faces.
His old teacher. A therapist. A faceless game reviewer. Family members. All featureless, as if sculpted from smoke. Their voices overlapped:
> "Grow up."
> "It's just a phase."
> "You're not good enough."
> "No one will remember this."
They reached for the child.
Elias stepped between them, heart pounding like a drum in his throat. He could feel the warmth of the child's fear behind him—raw, human. Real.
He reached inward. To something buried deep.
A whisper from long ago. A name he had only ever used online. In his first game world. The one he built when he was twelve, hiding from the world.
**"Mirrorlight."**
He said it.
The room froze.
The shadows dissolved like mist in sunlight.
The child looked up—eyes wide, no longer afraid.
> **[TRIAL COMPLETE.]**
> **[REALITY RESTORED: 8%]**
> **[MEMORY RECONCILIATION: SUCCESSFUL.]**
The bedroom peeled away.
He stood once more in the corridor of mirrors.
This time, the glass did not flicker.
It bowed.
And at the end, where no door had been, now stood one.
Black iron. Veined with gold. The handle warm, as if someone had just let go of it.
Above:
> **[TRIAL II: THE FEAST OF FLESH AND MEMORY]**
Elias took a deep breath.
The air tasted different now—less metal, more like rain after a fire.
He pressed his hand against his chest. His heart was still there. Still his.
And for the first time in years—he felt whole.
He turned to the dark and whispered:
**"I remember."**