We didn't ask for permission.
The temple seemed empty, but we knew it was watching us.
Each stained glass window that once glowed with heroic scenes… was now fogged.
The figures inside cried blood in vibrant hues.
"Are you ready?" I asked Sera, standing before the sealed door.
She nodded but didn't look at me. Her hand was clenched around her reliquary, and her shadow flickered like an uncertain flame.
We pushed.
—
The basement smelled of damp stone and old ink.
The steps spiraled downward, and with each meter, the air grew heavier.
By the third landing, the torches snuffed out on their own.
"This isn't darkness," I said, my breath slowing. "It's like… we're not supposed to see."
Sera conjured a small magical light. It wasn't blue.
It was red.
And it pulsed. Like a frightened heart.
—
The final chamber was circular.
Walls carved with symbols belonging to no known language.
Benches, like a hidden chapel. And in front of them… a mirror.
Large. Covered with black cloth bound by chains.
Above the frame, an inscription:
> "Here lies what should never have been written."
—
Sera swallowed hard.
"That mirror…"
"It's a node," I said. My eyes were adjusting, and now I could see the cracks surrounding it.
Not physical ones. Narrative ones.
Fragments of reality flickering, frozen scenes of things that never happened.
A Sera burning at the stake.
A Ryouhei stabbing a child.
A city with no moons.
And the sound…
A constant murmur, like hundreds of voices trying to pray at once, but with no shared tongue.
—
"What do we do?" she asked.
I approached the mirror. The cloth moved on its own, as if breathing.
"Find the truth," I said. "Even if it hurts. Even if the world rejects it."
I placed my hand on the knot of chains.
Then, a voice behind us whispered:
—If you look… you won't be able to look back.
We turned.
And there she was.
The woman from the inn. Same smile. Same dress. But now… no face.