Chloe came to with a breath she didn't remember taking.

The world around her was... not right.

The corridor twisted upward, narrowing like the throat of a glass bottle. The light had no source, yet everything shimmered – edges too sharp, shadows too soft. Reflections lined both sides of the hall, but none of them matched. In the mirror to her left, she was walking. In the one on the right, she was crying.

She stood perfectly still.

Her breath fogged – then didn't. Her body felt half-present, like her bones had gone soft, like her heartbeat had slid out of rhythm and refused to sync with the world again.

She was alone.

Alyssa, Dan, the others – gone. Torn from her in the chaos of lockdown. She remembered running. The hallway splitting like a mouth. Screams echoing from places they hadn't entered. A hand pulling hers – then nothing.

Just glass. And silence. And her.

Chloe took a step forward. Her foot landed with a sound that was almost a footstep, except... not. It echoed wrong. Dull, smothered. Like the floor had been padded with something that didn't want her to hear herself move.

"You're drifting again," Dan's voice said – not aloud, but in memory. That soft steadiness he always had, even when everything else was breaking. She clung to it now like a lifeline.

Her fingers brushed the wall. Cold. Slick. Not glass, but not not-glass either.

She didn't know how long she'd been walking.

Her powers were slipping again. Every few steps, she phased by accident – her shoulder drifting through a support beam, her hand disappearing into a wall like she'd forgotten how to be solid. It had been happening more often lately. When she was tired. When she felt too much.

When she forgot she was real.

She used to like mirrors. Not in a vain way, but in a checking way. A reassurance. That she was there. That she wasn't just Alyssa's echo.

Growing up, it was always Alyssa and Chloe. One name, one breath. Twins. A set. A matched pair.

People saw Alyssa first – her loud voice, her wild fashion, her absolute certainty – and Chloe became the shadow standing next to her.

She never hated it. Not really. But she wondered, sometimes, if anyone would ever just say Chloe.

If she'd ever matter on her own terms.

The lights flickered.

Every mirror along the hallway rippled.

She froze.

One of them smiled back at her.

She hadn't moved.

The reflection cocked its head. Same face. Same outfit. Same fraying ends of her long dark hair but the smile was wrong. Curved just a bit too far. Too hungry. Too amused.

It wasn't mocking her.

It was wearing her.

Chloe turned to run but the hallway behind her was gone. Swallowed. Eaten by shadow and smooth, black glass. There were no exits now. Just endless reflections, stretching forward like a hall of false memories.

She started to tremble.

"You're not real," she whispered.

The mirrors disagreed.

Every pane along the wall came to life. In one, she was curled on the floor, crying in a hospital. In another, she was yelling at Alyssa – something about being invisible, about being overlooked. In a third, she was phasing through a door and leaving someone behind. Liz? Dan?

The reflections didn't answer.

They just played.

Over and over.

Swallowing her.

She stepped back – and her foot phased halfway through the floor. She yelped, pulling it out, but her hand passed through her leg as she stumbled.

"Stop," she hissed, trying to breathe.

But the mirrors were whispering now – fragments of her own voice, mocking, spliced together from half-remembered fears.

"I'm not the strong one—" "She always speaks for me—" "Do they even see me?"

Each mirror echoed something she'd never said out loud.

Each one knew her.

The Mirror wasn't attacking her with claws or teeth.

It was pulling her apart with truth.

Or at least the version of truth Chloe whispered to herself when no one else could hear.

She staggered to a stop in front of one last mirror.

This one didn't move.

Didn't lie.

Didn't smile.

It showed her – just her.

Plain. Quiet. Tired.

Alone.

She reached out. Touched it. Cold glass under her fingers.

She waited for it to warp. To twist. To grab her and pull her under.

But it didn't.

She stared.

And slowly, her reflection raised its hand too.

She breathed.

Not in panic.

But in recognition.

She was here.

She was real.

And maybe she didn't know who exactly she was yet – not fully, not cleanly.

But she wasn't just someone's sister.

She wasn't just the quiet one.

She was Chloe.

And Chloe was still standing.

Even in the dark.

Even through the glass.

…………………

The hallway didn't end.

It stretched, curled, folded in on itself like a Möbius strip devouring its own spine. Every wall mirrored. Every ceiling. Every floor. An infinite cascade of Chloe Blackthorns blinking back at her—some exact, some… off.

In one, her eyes were sunken and red, like she hadn't slept in weeks.

In another, her skin shimmered faintly, semi-translucent, phasing constantly like she couldn't hold herself together.

In others, she wasn't alone – Alyssa was beside her. Liz. Dan. Max. But they never looked at her. Only past her. Only through.

She turned in a slow, helpless circle.

Every motion multiplied.

Her breath echoed out of sync – each inhale catching in a different loop, each exhale coming a second too early, or too late. It felt like she was being sampled. Glitched.

The floor under her flickered between slick marble and hospital tile. The scent of antiseptic stung her nose one second, then disappeared the next. Her shoes squeaked—then didn't.

A distant voice whispered.

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"Chloeeee…"

She flinched.

One of the mirrors directly ahead wavered. Not rippling, not cracking—just folding. Bending forward. A shape stepped through it, barefoot and calm, like glass had always been water to her.

Alyssa.

Except... not.

This version wore their shared face with a confidence Chloe didn't recognize. Her eyeliner perfect. Her posture coiled, relaxed, superior. She moved like someone who had never once questioned her place in the world.

"Alyssa?" Chloe asked, stepping forward.

The copy smiled. But it was too slow. Too knowing.

"You always come second, don't you?"

The voice was Alyssa's.

But the cadence wasn't.

Too deliberate. Too cruel.

"Always walking two steps behind. Always the echo. Always the twin – not the girl."

Chloe stiffened. "You're not her."

"No," the copy admitted. "I'm not. But I know what she thinks."

It circled her, slow and casual, every footstep echoing twice – once normally, once from inside Chloe's head.

"She doesn't mean to outshine you. She just does. She speaks first. Acts faster. Feels bigger. And you?" The reflection leaned in close, grinning. "You disappear."

"I don't—" Chloe tried.

"You're the echo. The quiet one. You aren't as strong. You aren't as beautiful. You aren't enough."

"Even your powers want you gone."

The words cut like razors – because she'd thought them too. On her worst nights. When Alyssa fell asleep mid-rant and Chloe lay awake wondering if anyone would still notice her if she vanished completely.

The copy stood in front of her now. Perfectly still.

"You're a supporting role. A footnote in someone else's legend. A flicker."

Chloe took a step back.

The mirror-Alyssa followed.

"They don't see you. Not really. Even Dan – he's kind, yes, but you know who he checks on first when things get hard."

"That's not true," Chloe whispered, but her voice cracked.

The copy's smile widened. "You're afraid to be seen because you're afraid there's nothing worth seeing."

Chloe's knees nearly buckled.

She wanted to run. But where? The hallway stretched forever, mirrors on all sides, each one showing a version of her that looked increasingly lost. Shadows began to fill the spaces between reflections – curling vines of ink, feeding off her hesitation.

The mirror-Alyssa stepped closer, lifted a hand, and cupped Chloe's cheek.

"You don't have to keep pretending," it whispered. "Just let go. Fade. I'll take it from here."

The words were gentle. Soothing.

A lullaby in the dark.

And for a moment – just a breath – Chloe wanted to believe it.

She was so tired of being the second thought.

So tired of holding herself together.

So tired of not knowing who she really was.

She closed her eyes.

And saw a memory.

A real one.

Not a reflection. Not a trick.

A kitchen table.

Two girls, age seven, arguing over who got to cut the cake.

Alyssa had shouted louder but Chloe had stood taller. Held the plastic knife. Said, "Me first," and for once, me had meant her.

And Alyssa had let her.

Because that was the thing about sisters – especially twins.

They didn't compete.

They mirrored.

They balanced.

Chloe opened her eyes.

The fake hand on her cheek had grown cold.

She reached up and gently took it.

"No," she said quietly. "You don't get to be her. You don't know her."

The mirror-woman blinked.

"She sees me. Even when I don't."

Then, softly—

"I see me too."

Chloe phased.

Not by accident. Not out of panic.

By choice.

She passed through the reflection like mist through a mirror.

And the thing pretending to be Alyssa shattered.

Fragments of glass – no, light – exploded outward, spinning, dissolving before they hit the ground.

The hallway was still infinite.

But now?

She could walk through it.

Because she wasn't a reflection anymore.

She was the girl who chose to stay real.

…………………

The mirrors didn't vanish.

They multiplied.

Every step Chloe took birthed new corridors, new echoes, each one bending light like a prayer twisted into a threat. There was no clear floor anymore – just layers of reflection stacked beneath her feet, creating the illusion of bottomless depth. She didn't fall.

She walked.

Now and then, fragments of herself flickered in the walls – older versions, younger, bruised, afraid. But they no longer pulled at her like anchors. They watched her pass, quiet, waiting to see what she'd become.

A familiar hum vibrated through the glass – like crystal under pressure.

And then:

"Brave little flicker," a voice murmured, low and velvet-soft.

It wasn't Alyssa this time.

It was her.

The Mirror.

It didn't have a shape. Not at first. Just a distortion. A fold in space ahead, where the reflections rippled like heatwaves.

Then it resolved.

A woman stepped from the distortion. Not quite Chloe. Not quite anyone. She shimmered with subtle contradictions – Chloe's nose, but Alyssa's chin. April's eyes. Her father's shoulders. A thousand stolen details blended into something almost beautiful. Almost real.

"You've come far," it said. The voice carried her own lilt but tuned perfectly to Chloe's breath. "But not far enough."

Chloe stopped a few feet away.

The Mirror-woman tilted her head.

"You're still afraid," it said.

"Of course I'm afraid." Chloe's voice was steady. "Fear isn't the problem."

"No?"

"I'm not here to be fearless. I'm here to stop letting that fear decide who I am."

The Mirror smiled. "Then tell me, Chloe Blackthorn – who are you?"

The air warped around the words. They weren't rhetorical. The question had weight, like an iron chain being fastened around her ribs.

She inhaled sharply.

All around them, the mirrors responded – her own reflection speaking back, lips moving in perfect sync, a thousand faces waiting to hear the answer.

Her heart thudded once.

Then twice.

She remembered every time someone had said Alyssa and Chloe like a unit. Every time a teacher had looked at Alyssa when Chloe had raised her hand. Every time someone forgot her name but remembered her sister's.

Every time she let it happen.

But that wasn't Alyssa's fault.

That was hers.

And that meant it could be changed.

She stepped forward.

"I'm Chloe Blackthorn."

Another step.

"I see things others don't. Feel things they can't."

Another step. The ground pulsed beneath her.

"I hold the edges of the world and keep people from falling through. I'm not a copy. I'm not a shadow. I'm not a second draft."

The Mirror's expression didn't change but the light in its eyes dimmed.

"I phase," Chloe whispered. "Because I know how to let go."

Then she vanished.

Not from fear.

Not to flee.

She flickered like a ghost – and reappeared behind the Mirror in a single beat. Her hand pressed against the thing's spine, fingers glowing pale with memory-light.

"You wanted to know who I am?" she said.

The Mirror turned. Too slow.

Chloe stepped forward.

"I'm the one who gets out."

And then she walked through it.

The creature screamed – not with sound, but with shards. The illusion fractured instantly, all the stolen faces crumbling as Chloe's presence cut through them. The woman's form peeled back like burning celluloid.

A ripple tore through the arena of reflections.

The glass didn't shatter.

It breathed.

The infinite corridors snapped inward, mirrors folding into themselves like pages in a closing book. The way out wasn't shown to her – it made itself around her. Every false Chloe blinked out. The floor returned beneath her feet. The path opened.

She stood in the silence.

Breathing. Solid. Whole.

Not just a girl who phased.

A girl who chose when.

…………………

The glass parted like water.

One step.

Then another.

Chloe emerged from the corridor of reflections and into the Institute's broken hallway, breath misting in the cold soul-light. The world was tilted – walls cracked, shadows deepened, metal vents warped like paper. Screams echoed faintly in the distance, distant thumps of combat deeper in the complex.

But she didn't hear any of it.

Not really.

She was still in her body for the first time in hours. Maybe days.

Each footstep felt grounded. Not just physically but metaphysically. Her phasing had stopped. Or rather – she'd let it. And she could feel her shape again. Her choice again. The way her soul pressed against the world instead of drifting above it. She was in control.

Her heart pounded once.

Twice.

Then—

"Chloe?!"

A voice ahead. Sharp. Wary. Real.

Dan rounded the corner like he'd broken every rule in the building. He was bleeding slightly from the shoulder, his coat torn and scorched at the edges. His golden aura shimmered like a shining jellyfish covering his body. But when he saw her—

He stood, shocked.

"You—" he gasped, breath hitching. "You got out."

Chloe blinked.

Her lips parted. "Dan?"

He reached her in three strides. Didn't grab her. Didn't crush her in a hug. He just stopped one foot away, hands hovering like he didn't trust the world to be real.

Then he smiled.

"You're solid," he whispered. "You're you."

Chloe nodded.

"Wasn't easy," she said softly.

Dan exhaled, relief trembling behind his ribs.

"I knew you'd make it," he said.

She gave him a tired smile. "I didn't."

He reached out – slowly – and gently touched her shoulder. His fingers didn't pass through.

Chloe flinched at first.

Then she relaxed.

"I saw… versions of myself," she said. "Echoes. Shadows. Copies that hated me. That whispered I'd always be second-best. That I'd vanish before I mattered."

Dan's eyes darkened. "The Mirror?"

She nodded.

"But they were wrong," she said. "I'm not a shadow. I'm the light that chose to move through them."

Dan gave her a smile – not proud. Present.

"I never saw you as second-best," he said. "You're not Alyssa's twin. You're Chloe. Always were."

Something in her cracked then – not in pain.

In recognition.

Her breath shivered. "Thank you."

He shook his head. "You did this. You pulled yourself out."

She reached forward and took his hand.

Warm. Real.

"I want to see her," Chloe said. "Alyssa."

"She's alive. Fighting. She'll want to know you're back."

Chloe glanced down the corridor, then back at Dan.

Her voice was steadier now. "Then let's go."

She stepped past him – her hand not phasing through the wall, her stride firm. No flicker. No glitch. No delay.

And for the first time since the chaos began—

The hallway echoed.

Just once.

But Chloe heard it.

She echoed.

And that was enough.

…………………

The corridor groaned under its own weight as Dan and Chloe moved through it—one flickering light at a time, emergency strobes casting everything in pulses of blue and shadow.

They didn't speak. Not yet.

Chloe's footsteps were soft, barefoot on fractured tile. She didn't limp anymore. Didn't stumble. Her body still flickered faintly at the edges, but it no longer felt like a curse. Just breath. Just movement. Just possibility.

Dan walked beside her with quiet purpose, his healing aura dimmed to keep them hidden. He kept glancing at her – not in fear, not in doubt, but in awe.

Chloe was no longer afraid of being seen.

"I think she's close," Dan said quietly, nodding toward a side corridor.

Chloe followed, her heartbeat steady, her steps sure. And then – there she was.

Alyssa stood in the hallway, back against a half-shattered vending machine, her jacket slung over one shoulder, arms folded, a fresh split in her lip and a fire in her eyes.

She looked up the moment she saw them. "Took your damn time—"

Chloe didn't let her finish.

She crossed the distance in three strides and hugged her. Hard. Arms around her sister's ribs, cheek pressed to her shoulder. Not fragile. Not apologetic. Not hiding.

Alyssa stiffened, caught off guard. "Uh. Okay. What's this for?"

Chloe didn't pull back.

"For everything," she whispered. "For putting up with me when I couldn't speak. For waiting for me when I vanished. For loving me even when I didn't know who I was."

Alyssa blinked. "Jesus, you got real weird in that mirror."

Chloe laughed – really laughed – and stepped back. Her smile was tired, but full.

"I used to think I was just... half of something," she said. "That people only saw me because you were louder. Braver. Stronger."

Alyssa opened her mouth, but Chloe kept going.

"But I'm not a reflection. I'm not a shadow. I'm me. And I'm still standing."

She looked down at her own hands. They shimmered faintly, the light bending around her fingers. Not glitching. Not fading. Phasing.

"I can control it now," she said. "All of it. I'm not scared anymore."

Alyssa stared at her for a long second. Then nodded once, approving. "Damn right you're not."

Dan stepped up beside them, smiling softly.

"So," Alyssa said, cracking her knuckles, "what's next?"

Chloe turned toward the darkness at the end of the corridor – where the Mirror's presence still pulsed like a heartbeat underwater. She didn't flinch.

Her voice was calm.

"We destroy it."

No one argued.

No one doubted.

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