(POV: Lucian Mareis & Nareth Sol)

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POV: Lucian Mareis

The mirror hadn’t stopped humming since dawn.

Lucian sat at the edge of the bed, clutching his shirt where his heart should’ve been steady. But it wasn’t. Every few beats, it stumbled — as if something inside him was out of rhythm, trying to find its place in a body that wasn’t truly his.

He stared at his reflection. His own eyes looked wrong — lighter, sharper, too alive for someone who’d nearly died.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered.

The reflection didn’t move. Then, suddenly, it smiled.

Lucian’s pulse jumped. “No—”

The mirror darkened. A voice, faint as a whisper in his skull, echoed through him:

You’re wearing me.

He stumbled back, hitting the wall. “No—no, that’s not—”

You took my face. My life.

Lucian’s breathing turned shallow. The voice wasn’t outside anymore — it was inside, scraping against his thoughts like nails on glass.

His knees hit the floor, his fingers clawing through his hair. “Get out—get out—!”

And then arms caught him — strong, steady. Nareth’s voice, trembling but firm: “Lucian! Look at me—hey—look at me!”

Lucian lifted his gaze, wild and glassy. “He’s still here, Nareth. I can feel him. He’s—”

“Stop.”

Nareth’s hand pressed against his cheek, forcing Lucian to focus. “Breathe with me.”

Lucian tried, his chest rising unevenly against Nareth’s palm. “I can’t—he’s inside my head—he says I stole his life—”

“Then let him talk,” Nareth said quietly, eyes searching his. “If you stole it, he’d be dead. But you’re both alive somehow. That means there’s a reason.”

Lucian shook his head violently. “You don’t understand—he hates me. He wants it back.”

The mirror across the room shuddered. A thin crack spread across the glass, bleeding faint light.

Nareth pulled Lucian into his chest, shielding him. The hum grew louder, almost like breathing — two breaths overlapping.

Lucian’s fingers dug into his shirt. “He’s trying to pull me through…”

“I won’t let him,” Nareth whispered fiercely.

Lucian’s voice broke. “What if I’m not the one you’re trying to save?”

Nareth froze. For a heartbeat, he couldn’t breathe. Then, slowly, he said, “Then I’ll still save you — even if you’re not mine.”

The light from the mirror flickered, then burst into silence.

Lucian collapsed against him, trembling. The world was still again, but the air between them carried a new weight — like the calm before something enormous broke.

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POV: Nareth Sol

He stayed awake all night, holding Lucian’s hand even after the tremors stopped.

The candlelight danced across Lucian’s face — too pale, too fragile.

Every few minutes, his eyes would flutter open, and he’d whisper the same thing: “Don’t let him take me.”

Nareth never answered out loud. He just squeezed his hand tighter.

Because he couldn’t tell him the truth — that when the voice had echoed through the mirror earlier, it had sounded like someone he once knew.

Someone who’d died months ago.

Nareth’s heart clenched. He brushed Lucian’s hair from his forehead and whispered, “Whoever you are… whatever you’ve become… I’ll find a way to keep you here.”

The candle burned lower, shadows pooling like ink across the floor.

And as Nareth’s eyes drifted toward the mirror, he saw it again—

A faint outline standing behind Lucian’s reflection.

Watching. Waiting. Smiling.