"Some reflections show the truth; others reveal wounds that never healed."
The grove was hauntingly beautiful, the kind of place that seemed to breathe with its own pulse. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers, but there was an underlying heaviness—a sense of being watched. Massive, ancient mirrors dotted the clearing, their cracked surfaces shimmering faintly in the moonlight.
“This is... creepy,” Yelle said, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Who just leaves enchanted mirrors in the middle of nowhere? What's your vibe, anyone?”
“No one’s forcing you to stay,” Zeyro replied dryly, his eyes scanning the grove.
Seilorah stepped closer to one of the mirrors, her reflection distorted and hazy. “What are these?” she murmured, her fingers hovering near the glass.
“Mirrors of remembrance,” Zeyro said, his tone clipped. “They show fragments of the past. If you’re lucky, they’ll stop there.”
“Lucky?” Yelle repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Zeyro, you really know how to sell optimism.”
“It’s not optimism. It’s a warning,” he retorted, stepping past her.
Seilorah frowned, her gaze fixed on the mirror in front of her. Something about it called to her, the faint glow in the glass intensifying the longer she stared.
“What happens if we look too closely?” she asked, her voice quiet.
Zeyro hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Sometimes the past doesn’t stay where it belongs.”
Yelle snorted. “Cool. Great. Let’s definitely keep staring at the cursed mirrors, then.”
But Seilorah couldn’t tear her eyes away. Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, her hand brushed the surface of the mirror. The world shifted.
In an instant, the grove disappeared, replaced by a grand hall bathed in flickering torchlight. Seilorah stood at the center, clad in ornate robes that radiated power. Her reflection was no longer a stranger—it was her, but not her. A figure stood across from her, his face obscured by shadows, but the tension between them was palpable.
“You betrayed me,” the figure said, his voice low and venomous. Her past self smirked, a cruel twist to her lips. “It was necessary.”
Seilorah’s chest tightened as the scene played out, her body frozen even as her mind screamed for it to stop. The figure stepped into the light, and her breath caught. It was Zeyro. Or at least, a younger, unscarred version of him. His eyes burned with fury, and in his hand, he held a blade dripping with dark energy.
“You don’t understand what you’ve done,” Zeyro spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.
Her past self shrugged, her expression cold. “Perhaps. But it was worth it.”
“Seilorah!” Yelle’s voice shattered the vision, dragging her back to the grove. She stumbled, her hand jerking away from the mirror as if it had burned her.
“What happened?” Yelle asked, steadying her.
Seilorah shook her head, her heart pounding. “I... I saw something...” She glanced at Zeyro, who was staring intently at another mirror. “We’ve met before.”
Zeyro’s expression darkened as his own mirror flickered to life. Seilorah could see it—the way his jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides.
“What are you seeing?” she asked, her voice hesitant.
“Nothing I didn’t already know,” he muttered, his tone cold.
But as Seilorah stepped closer, she caught a glimpse of the reflection. It was Zeyro, kneeling on the ground, his face twisted in anguish. Her past self stood over him, a cruel smile on her lips as she held a glowing artifact.
“I destroyed you,” Seilorah said quietly, her throat tightening.
Zeyro turned to her, his eyes blazing. “You didn’t destroy me. You cursed me. Bound me to this fate for eternity.”
His words hit like a punch to the gut. Seilorah staggered back, her mind reeling.
“That wasn’t me,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not really.”
“Does it matter?” he asked, his tone sharp. “You and I are bound by what happened. Whether it was you or some version of you doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”
The tension crackled between them, thick and suffocating.
“Okay, time out!” Yelle said, stepping between them. “Let’s not turn this into a reenactment of your past melodrama, okay? I mean, seriously—‘You betrayed me!’ ‘No, you betrayed me first!’ It’s like a bad soap opera.”
“Not helping, Yelle,” Seilorah muttered, her hands shaking.
Yelle rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m just saying, maybe your past selves were jerks. Doesn’t mean you have to be jerks now.”
“She’s got a point,” Zeyro said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Though I appreciate the moral commentary from someone whose biggest betrayal is stealing cookies from the jar.”
“Hey!” Yelle protested, glaring at him. “Those cookies were a group effort, thank you very much.”
Despite the humor, Seilorah’s mind was still spinning. The memories—if that’s what they were—felt too vivid, too real.
“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaking. “Why did I betray you? What did I want?”
Zeyro hesitated, his expression softening just enough for her to catch it. “Power,” he said finally. “You thought it was worth any cost.”
“And it wasn’t?” she asked, her tone bitter.
“Not for me,” he replied, his voice quiet.
The silence that followed was heavy, neither of them willing to break it. Yelle, sensing the weight of the moment, tried once again to inject some levity.
“So, lesson learned: don’t touch cursed mirrors,” she said brightly. “Also, maybe avoid making grand, dramatic betrayals in the future?”
Seilorah managed a weak smile. “Noted.”
Zeyro said nothing, his gaze fixed on the mirror as if daring it to show him something worse. As they left the grove, the memories lingered like ghosts, haunting their every step. Seilorah couldn’t shake the image of her past self, cold and unyielding, nor could she ignore the pain in Zeyro’s eyes.
“Do you think we can change it?” she asked softly, falling into step beside him.
“Change what?” he asked, his voice guarded.
“Whatever this is,” she said, gesturing between them. “Our connection. Our fate.”
Zeyro’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But if there’s a way, it won’t come easily.”
Seilorah nodded, her resolve hardening. “Then we’ll find it together.”
He glanced at her, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Broken promises have bad consequences.”
“I’m not promising anything,” she said firmly.
As the grove faded into the distance, the weight of their shared past pressed heavier on Seilorah’s shoulders. She didn’t know if she could ever make up for what had happened before, but she knew one thing for certain: she wouldn’t let history repeat itself.
"The past may be written in stone, but the future is still ours to carve."