The intake ward was a hallway dressed up as a clinic: cots, rolling carts, a humming heater unit. The air stung of alcohol wipes and boiled bandages.

Midori sat on a cot while a medic in a hazmat suit cut away sleeve fabric and wrapped her forearm. The foil blanket around her shoulders rustled when she shivered.

"Hey, easy there. Chills are common after overexertion," the medic said before turning to me. "Small sips. Keep her warm."

Midori smiled softly at the medic as he tucked the blanket in and moved on to the next cot. I narrowed my eyes as I looked at her hands. They were pale, the skin stretched thin over her knuckles.

She raised the bottle to her lips, but her hands were trembling too badly to hold it steady. The water sloshed, spilling over the rim and onto her blanket.

"You're rattling," I said. "Want me to hold the bottle?"

She shot me a look that was more tired than annoyed. "I've got it."

Then, softer, "Thanks."

The wall display over triage carried a live feed. The lower third read: ARMOR OBSERVATORY TWO — SHORELINE CITY.

"We're back with continuing coverage from Armor-Obs Two above Shoreline City. Command confirms the Duke-class target dubbed the 'Beast of Desolation' by Magical Girl Celestial Sonata — is still mobile. Evacuation corridors are still open along the east and south spokes. The Northern American Coalition flagship, NCS Dauntless, is on station; primary batteries are not cleared for urban fire. Air assets are currently supporting ground movements and shelter transfers - and we have confirmation that the Crown's Second Fleet under Admiral Elenitsa Escathos will arrive within the hour. All citizens that have not arrived at a designated bunker are advised to shelter-in-place and to activate SOS transmitters. Please listen for..."

I tore my eyes away from the screen.

Midori tried another drink. Her fingers jerked; water tapped the rim, but I was mentally prepared and steadied the bottle with her.

"You pushed too hard," I said.

"Understatement," she muttered, then took another sip. The blanket hid the tremors but didn't stop them.

Her face was pale under the fluorescent lights. Not the after-fight exertion I'd seen on the street - this was the drained, hollow and sickly kind. She breathed in through her nose and set the bottle on her knee.

My mind flashed back to the strange purple energy that'd wrapped around her as she annihilated the Marquis-class chaos beast that'd attacked us on the roof. Something like that was supposed to be a threat to a team of B-Rank and C-Rank Magical Girls from what I'd gathered.

But Midori had sliced it into ribbons in seconds.

No, she'd annihilated it before the seconds could even pass, if my theory was correct.

That had to come with a price.

"You're not doing great," I said, quieter.

She gave a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Never claimed I was."

The tremors were getting worse. Her whole arm was shaking now. She clenched her hand into a fist, but it just shook harder.

I looked at the medic, who was busy triaging a soldier with a deep gash in his leg. I looked back at Midori. She was biting her lip, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Rai-chan, what's happening to her?" I asked quietly.

"Her body is rejecting the magic she used," Rai-chan replied, her voice even. "The archives I have access to have nothing on the mana signature I'd picked up along the way, but I can extrapolate from the backlash pattern. Her body and spirit are under immense strain."

her exact capabilities, but the patterns are consistent with severe magical burnout. Her mana channels are overloaded and she's experiencing what is known as a 'backlash'. Her body is basically trying to shut down to protect itself."

I eased onto the cot edge, placing a hand on her elbow. "Tell me what helps."

"Warmth. Sugar." A small pause. "A distraction."

"Okay." I cracked a gel pack the medic left in a kit and handed it over. "No heroic refusals."

She peeled it open, managed half, and grimaced. "Lemon rocket fuel. Seems Earth-made at that."

"Gourmet wartime cuisine. Leave it up to us Pennsylvanians and rust belters to put out the most wretched 'food products' either world has ever seen."

"Well, at least you guys brought us spam. Talia always gives me crap for liking it. She's a food snob, you know," Midori said, her voice a little stronger. She managed another swallow. This time, her hand didn't shake as much.

"Pretty sure that came from Minnesota. But man, the industrial revolution was something else."

"So I've heard," Midori said, a small smile playing on her lips. She set the bottle on her knee, her hand still trembling, but less violently than before.

The screen flickered again.

"This just in — we have word and confirmation that SS-Rank Magical Girl Radiant Rhiannon has deployed in advance of the Second Fleet with a full vanguard platoon of Royal Marines!"

The video panned to a feed facing the ocean from a high-rise buildings. Dozens of what looked like torpedoes painted royal blue and gold were screaming across across the water like an oncoming tidal wave.

On-screen, the pods hit the water with geysers of steam. In seconds, their momentum somehow halted alright, before large humanoid figures were launched out of the tops like a circus act - they were angular, but painted in the same royal blue and gold. But that was where the similarities ended. Each one seemed to be individually customized and decorated with a variety of sigils and heraldry.

One of them, the lead, had a large, ornate axe that glowed with a faint blue light. Unlike the others which were designed with more practicality in mind, this one had an almost regal look to it, a large, flowing cape billowing behind it as it soared over the water, and the sigil on its chest was a stylized sun and moon.

As it soared, the audio suddenly crackled and cut out - only for a voice with a posh British accent to echo over the shelter's speakers, laced with a theatrical energy.

"People of Shoreline City! Admiral Elenitsa Escathos speaking here. Pardon for hijacking your transmission, but little ol' me thought a morale boost was in order!"

The camera feed switched to the mech's cockpit.

And in it sat a young woman with long, pure white hair that cascaded over her shoulders. She looked no older than me, with a youthful face that broke into a mischievous grin as she waved at the camera.

"Is... is that wise?" I sputtered. "An admiral jumping into combat with a Duke active on the field?!"

Midori's eyes widened, a flash of recognition in them.

The woman on the screen, Elenitsa, just winked at the camera, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Now, now. I know what some of you are thinking. Don't give me that look. I'm not one for staying cooped up on the bridge. Not while my dearest Silver Thorn is carving the path," Elenitsa finished brightly, eyes glittering. "For The White Rose of Albion does not sit idle!"

She flourished a small scepter at her side and snapped upright in her harness. The cockpit frame irised open to a wide exterior cam: her custom unit streaked low over the bay - sleek, white armor with blue trim and gilt lines, a crown-shaped sensor hoop behind the head and a ring of petal-drones sheathing the waist.

"White Rose to Shoreline City," she said, voice warm and shameless. "Breathe. For salvation is here. The Royal Marines shall keep the lanes clear, while our beloved Rhiannon finishes the main course!"

The transmission cut, and the shelter buzzed with a confused, hopeful energy.

My head spun. Admiral. A kid. In a mech?

Midori let out a slow breath, her gaze distant.

"The White Rose of Albion," she murmured, more to herself than to me. "She's a Magitech Knight. One of the Crown's twelve Royal Lances. The finest of them all, they say."

I turned to her, my own shock momentarily forgotten. "Magitech Knight? Like the special soldiers that use those suicide cores?"

She shook her head. "Supposedly she's descended from Duchess Escathos's family and adopted, but she has her own version of the process used to create one. The White Rose of Albion has fought by Radiant Rhiannon's side long before she was humanity's greatest champion."

A knot tightened in my stomach. An A-Rank?

Like Hana of the Dawn? Dior?

"B-But she's tiny! She has to be around our age, right? And Magitech Soldiers don't have lumina like Magical Girls to protect them or amplify a mage's powers to that degree unless I'm mistaken?" I said, voicing the confusion I'd learned from my crash course on this world. "I know what they can do is significantly more limited."

"The process she went through... it's different. Classified. The rumor is that it's a form of symbiosis..." Midori explained. "Duchess Escathos is one of the most powerful people in the world and has more than her share of secrets. But the point is this: she's on our side. The White Rose is leading an entire platoon of custom mechs into battle. She's here for a reason - and she's one of the few Magitech Soldiers who can actually be useful in a clash with a Duke-class Chaos Beast. Maybe even more. With or without the mech."

Midori chuckled. "And regarding her age, she's well into her thirties now. Some people just age like that."

Her voice lowered, "But bombastic vigor or not, she's still a Magitech Knight. A living weapon of the Crown. Her power, her reputation... it all comes from a different place than a Magical Girl's. She may not be as famous as Rhiannon but she's no slouch."

She fell silent then, a shudder wracking her frame that had nothing to do with cold. The gel pack crumpled in her grip.

"Midori?" I leaned closer. "You okay there?"

"Not really," she said, honest. "But I'm not falling over now."

"Progress."

Her eyes tracked the news crawl. "Thanks. For the heat and the… talking."

"Any time."

Midori's grip tightened on the blanket. She didn't look at the screen.

This was a power she'd refused to pull out even while we were held at gunpoint. It wasn't lost on me that this was serious.

"How bad?" I asked.

"Bad enough," she said. "Not your problem here."

"You're in here," I said.

That earned me a short side-eye, and I grinned back at her.

"Statistically sound."

She huffed, then winced at the shiver that followed. I adjusted the blanket higher. Up close her skin was cold.

"What do you need from me?" I asked again.

"Stay put. Keep talking. I'll level out."

My mouth got ahead of my brain.

"You did the green-flash thing and purple glowie thing god knows how many times in under an hour. Pretty sure that's not an everyday workout."

Her jaw set. "It isn't." Then, after a beat, the edge softened. "I overdid it getting you and Clementine through. That's on me. Could've been more efficient."

"You got us through," I said. "That part's on you too."

Another half-smile, smaller this time, but real.

"Still," she whispered, looking back up at the screen. "That's a hell of a cavalry."

A shiver that wasn't magic hit me, too.

Because if she was in this bad of a shape, what was happening to her?

And what, exactly, was the price she paid to make sure we walked away tonight?

"Hey," I said, pulling my cot closer and taking up a post at her feet so I could brace her back with mine. "Lean on me a bit if you have to, too."

Midori didn't argue. She shifted back a bit and the tremors eased a notch.

"God, you remind me so much of my little brother it hurts sometimes," Midori murmured, so low I almost missed it.

A medic hustled past with an IV pole. Across from us, a soldier asked three times if anyone had seen a Sergeant Bailey. No one had. Someone squeezed his shoulder. He stared at his boots and punched a wall.

Midori watched, jaw tight, then looked down at her hands. "Hate sitting still."

"Same," I said. "But you did enough today. You don't need to carry the next thing too."

She angled me a look. Not sharp, but measured. "You keep saying things like that and I'll start thinking you listen."

"Occasionally." A beat. "Especially when the person has a fancy sword."

That earned a quiet snort. The tremors eased again. I could feel her thawing.

The feed ticked on. An East Asian woman with icy-blue hair and turquoise eyes appeared on screen.

"This just in in! Radiant Rhiannon is confirmed on the ground! We're seeing coordinated strikes pushing back the chaos beast now. No details beyond that while the fight is live. If you're hearing this in a shelter, remain where you are and follow staff instructions. Do not, and I repeat - DO NOT expose yourself if you are downtown."

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

The frame cut to a distant shot of silver arcs carving through smoke. A cheer started in the hall, then died to a murmur.

The feed held on the reporter's steady face.

"Our apologies for Lady Escatho's abrupt interruption. This is Maya Chen aboard Armor-Observatory Two over Shoreline City again. Here's what we can confirm: the Duke-class target is still mobile but its forces have already been degraded by Magical Girl Radiant Rhiannon. Evacuation corridors on the east and south spokes are now open with periodic closures as fighting shifts. The Northern Coalition flagship NCS Dauntless is on standby; command has not authorized primary batteries for urban fire. Crown elements under Admiral Elenitsa Escathos are on scene supporting ground movements. If you're in a designated shelter, remain in place and keep lanes clear for medical teams. If you're outside, move only on marked lanes with wrist-stamp verification. We'll bring updates as the situation evolves."

She listened to her earpiece. "Quick note for those underground: brief lighting dips may occur as crews balance load across the grid. If your lights dim, hold position and wait for instructions from shelter staff."

Then, her voice dropped a notch.

"And... and for those waiting on names: hospitals are currently compiling lists. Shelters will post boards once information is verified. Please give them time. We know this is hard. We're waiting too."

Midori looked at the bottle, then at me. "Tell me about Izumi."

"What?"

"Your younger sister. You said the two of you grew up in rough conditions like this. I know it's weird, but I like hearing about family."

I shook my head.

"She's... she's Izumi. Short fuse, great aim. She can handle herself better than most adults I know," I said. "But... she's twelve. She calls me an old man when I won't let her carry both bags. Steals my clothes because she swears mine are comfier. She still thinks the best thing to do when the power goes out is to light all the candles."

"Sounds like a talent!" Midori said.

"A menace. I miss her."

"You'll see her again."

"I don't kn—" I caught myself and met her eyes. "Alright, alright, I'll buy my own pitch."

"Good boy," she murmured. Warmth back in her voice, even if her fingers were still cold under the foil. She tucked the edge of the blanket once, twice… then her hand hovered, as if waiting for a cue only she could hear.

Another concussion rolled through the concrete. She breathed in and, without seeming to think about it, tapped the blanket in a slow count. One… two… three until the echo faded. The tapping stopped. She blinked and found me watching, and for a second there was an apology in her eyes she didn't voice.

"Sorry," she said, softer. "This moment had me a bit nostalgic. And I'm not always the most pleasant person to be around when I get like this. Thrown into a Chaos Event mean."

I knew there was more to it than just the magic. It was the waiting. The not knowing. The way every distant boom could be the one that mattered.

"Don't be."

She shook her head. "But tell me more about that little sister of yours."

"Right." I shifted closer so our shoulders touched. "Izumi has put on this whole 'fearless guardian of the neighborhood' act since she could read and understand old cartoons. Even now, she smacks vending machines that eat her coins, chirps at stray dogs like they're old friends. But when the lights go out during a power shortage? She'd scoot up right behind me and pretend she isn't terrified."

That got a real chuckle out of her, weak as it was. "Good strategy."

I rubbed my thumb along a scuffed rail. "We had this busted camping lantern. The diffuser shattered years ago. I taped baking paper over the frame, punched tiny holes with a fork, hung it from a nail, and spun it. Instant 'galaxy nightlight.' She'd cross her arms and pretend she wasn't impressed, then start naming the dots like she was cataloging evidence."

"What'd she call them?"

"Not real star names. Stuff like Firefly #1, Pretend Moon, and… 'That One's Definitely Not A Plane, Stop Laughing, Ikki.'"

A breathy laugh slipped out of Midori before a chill chased it away.

"She'd still do the whole big talk," I went on. "But once the galaxy was turning, she'd edge her foot under mine and cling onto me until she fell asleep. So what if she pretended she didn't need it? I knew."

Midori's eyes softened. She didn't say anything like I know that feeling, though I caught it anyway when another distant boom rolled through and her fingers resumed that patient, automatic count. She stopped at three again, as if that number meant something.

"Rituals help," I said, quiet. "Dad used to say you can't beat a storm, you can only hang lanterns inside it."

"That's… very wise of him," she murmured.

"Very him. He'd also splurge a little and do pancake towers for birthdays. Tea light on top with a wish. But when it came to gifts, the rule was you had to wish for something you could build yourself or with family and we'd make it happen."

She angled me a look. "What was the thing you ever wished for that left the deepest impression on you?"

"Ball bearings for Izumi's scooter." I shrugged. "And a little cul-de-sac that wasn't a death trap for kids seven blocks away from a major drug smuggling operation."

"Practical," she said, approving. "What about your sister?"

"To not need me to walk her home." I smiled a little. "Said it like a challenge. Then she gripped my sleeve all the way back the next day."

"Bravado," Midori said, like a diagnosis. Her eyes traced the heater grille across from us. The foil reflected a sliver of the room; for a heartbeat the edge of a tray passing behind us caught a washed-out orange that didn't belong to any lamp.

I blinked, shaking off the afterimage.

Midori followed my sightline, then back to my face. "What?"

"Nothing. Head's been playing tricks on me."

She hummed, not convinced. Then she shivered. Not a tremor, this time—real cold. I nudged the blanket higher, and she let me without protest.

Midori murmured again. Her voice was low, steady, like a confession this time.

"Hey Ikki... Can you grab my sword for me? Just... lean it against the cot here. I don't want it on the floor."

I scrutinized her carefully.

The request was simple. Normal. In a room filled with discarded gear and hushed voices, it was the kind of small favor people traded without a second thought. But something about the way she said it stuck out to me. Her expression was tired but otherwise unreadable.

And why would she need it now? She could barely sit upright.

Still, she'd been through enough. If she wanted her security blanket, who was I to argue?

She'd definitely caught the look on my face though.

That gave me pause. Midori's instincts were sharp. If there was a real reason to refuse, she'd have said so. Instead, she was just… waiting.

And she looked so worn out.

Better to do this quick, before she got worse.

"Sure thing," I said, shifting on the cot. "No biggie."

I rose slowly, my ribs protesting, and stepped to the end of the cot. Her sword rested there, wrapped in idark cloth. It looked deceptively plain.

I knelt by the wrapped bundle, my fingers finding the ends of the cloth. It was heavier than I expected, dense and solid. I unwrapped the top half, exposing the hilt. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen.

The guard was a simple, elegant crossbar of dark, non-reflective metal, but the pommel was what caught my eye. A single, large, emerald-cut jewel was set into it, a deep, cloudy green that seemed to drink the dim fluorescent light of the shelter, glowing with a soft, internal luminescence. It was an old piece of jade, but it felt... alive. And it called to me.

Before I consciously registered it, I grasped the hilt, my fingers closing around the leather-wrapped grip and pulled it out just an inch to study the craftsmanship.

And the world went sideways.

It wasn't an explosion. It wasn't a shock. It was a cold, silent floodgate opening in my mind.

The shelter vanished.

The smell of antiseptic and fear was replaced by the scent of old wood, and I briefly saw the shrine I'd traversed through. The shrine Rai-chan had rescued me from.

There was the scent of rain on hot asphalt, of ozone after a lightning strike. I was standing on a cracked highway, staring at a pristine silver briefcase, its lock glowing with an orange light that matched Rai-chan. I could feel the thrum of the world around me, the thrum of Rai-chan's presence in my soul.

And then I was back.

The jade glowed briefly, before the light was gone.

"Ikki?"

Midori's voice cut through the haze. My head snapped up. She was staring at me, frowning with the blanket pooled around her waist.

"U-um. Yeah. Sorry. Just spaced out for a second," I said, shaking my head to clear it. The echoes of memory faded, leaving me with a dull throb behind my eyes. I stood up, the sword feeling impossibly heavy in my hand. "Here you go."

I held it out to her, but she didn't take it. Her gaze was locked on my hand, then on my face.

"You drew it," she whispered, staring at me with her brows furrowed.

"Yeah? Er, sorry. Should I have not? It looked... beautiful. Sorry about that."

"Hmph..." she breathed, her eyes narrowing, before softening. "Never mind. Just... just lay it down over here."

I gently placed the sword on the cot next to her, the wrapped blade leaning against the metal frame. As soon as my fingers left the hilt, the strange weight in my head lifted.

Midori just stared at the weapon, then back at me. She slowly reached out and placed her own hand on the wrapped hilt. Her expression was unreadable and she just stared at the floor. She was in a contemplative, almost mournful state.

"Keep going."

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

"About Izumi. The lantern story. Little things like that."

I blinked. The shift in topic was so abrupt it took me a second to catch up. But her voice had an edge to it, a quiet urgency that brokered no argument.

"...Right," I said, settling back onto my cot. "The galaxy lantern. Uh… we actually made a 'quiet fort' out of appliance foam. Two old computer fans wired to a switch. Izumi would stick her head inside when the neighbors from the apartment over got loud. The fans hummed just enough to turn shouting into weather."

Midori's lashes dipped. "Good engineering."

"Cheap engineering," I said. "She named the fort 'HQ.' Drew a crooked star over the door. If I forgot to knock, she'd make me wait outside and then pretend to stamp my passport."

"That's very official of her," Midori murmured, smile small but real as she clutched the sword."

"She's big on stuff like that. She holds ceremonies for the most ridiculous stuff. When the power came back, she'd stand on a milk crate and proclaim the 'Return of Civilization' and we'd clap like idiots. Then she'd ask what civilization was and pretend she knew already."

Midori's hand, suddenly reached out from under the blanket and found the edge of my sleeve, pinching it lightly.

"You two will be fine," she said, with a certainty I wanted to steal. "You're both… persistent."

"Stubborn," I corrected.

"Ranked trait." Her voice thinned with another shiver. I nudged my shoulder under hers so she didn't have to hold herself up.

"When this is over," she said, voice drifting, "bring your sister here. Lanterns by the river. Proper pastry. I'll pretend to be impressed with your galaxy and then ruin you with the real planetarium."

"Rude," I said. "But accepted."

"Good." Her words slurred at the edges now, almost drunkenly. "Hey... wake me if the sky needs names."

"Got it."

She eased down another inch. The tremors that had chased her since we got here dwindled into steady breathing. I watched her breathing finally even out, and her eyes fluttered before she drifted into a restless sleep, her grip slackening on the sword.

I sat there, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the slow, steady rhythm of her breath a quiet counterpoint to the distant sounds of the battle raging outside.

I slid off the cot once Midori's breathing settled into something regular. My legs felt like rebar and rubber at the same time. The room smelled like iodine and too many people.

"I'm going to wash up," I whispered to Midori. "Five minutes. Yell if you need me."

She didn't stir.

Out in the corridor the lights hummed and the concrete breathed cool air up from the floor. I followed a sign with a cracked droplet icon toward a row of bathrooms.

"—Ikki?"

I turned.

Natasha stood there in a borrowed field jacket two sizes too big, collar up, dark slate-colored hair pulled into a messy half-knot that still managed to shine like it had been polished.

Her glasses were slightly crooked; one lens had a fresh scratch. Green eyes, wide and bright, found my face and did that little soften she always did when she recognized someone who treated her well. Like me or Cordelia.

I blinked. "Nat? You're— you made it. You're alive!"

She shook her head.

"Enough about me, I'm just glad you're in one piece." She gave a small, lopsided grin that aimed for brave and almost landed before walking closer.

Up close I caught the details she couldn't hide: blood darkening the cuff of the sleeve she kept tugged down; a tremor passing through her shoulder; the way her left hand cupped her right forearm like it might jump ship if she let go. She'd looped gauze under the jacket, quick and dirty. There was grit in her hairline and a smear along her jaw she hadn't noticed.

"You look like you lost a fight with a brick factory," I said flatly.

She coughed, wincing as she clutched her ribs.

Based on what I glimpsed from her fight with Caroline not too long ago, the petite girl could throw a punch harder than she let on, but she was still human. And I knew for a fact she was still recovering from her schoolyard brawl.

"Pfft. You should see the brick factory." She tried on a laugh and kept it, even when it pulled something that hurt.

Her eyes flicked past me, scanning, then came back. "You okay?"

"Mostly." I scrubbed at dried soot on my knuckles and winced. "Midori's inside, passed out. Burnout or backlash or… something ugly. I need a sink before I scare the kids."

Natasha's attention sharpened at Midori's name, then reset itself to friendly. "Here? Back where you just came?"

"Yeah. Could you—" I hesitated, then pushed through, knowing they had a complicated relationship. "Can you sit with her for a minute? And keep an eye on her sword. I don't want anyone walking off with it."

She tilted her head, glasses catching the light. "Of course." The answer was instant, like I'd asked her to hold a backpack.

"Go. Wash up. I'll stand guard. I'd never let Midori come to harm. Or you, for that matter."

"Thanks," I said, meaning it more than I expected.

She reached out like she might clap my shoulder, then thought better of it and tapped me on the forehead. "Hurry back, soldier boy."

I smiled sheepishly, retreating into the bathroom. The lights flickered as the door swung shut.

The mirror above the sink showed a stranger: pale under the grime, a split lip, and the familiar exhaustion I'd seen on Dad's face a hundred times after a double shift. I leaned my hands on the cool metal rim.

"Rai-chan," I muttered, "set a three-minute timer."

"Sure thing," she chimed in my ear. "You look like a chimney sweep. Cute, though."

"Flatter me later."

I cupped water over my face. When I blinked the sting out of my eyes, the mirror had gone a shade darker.

Not the glass—everything inside it. The room in the reflection looked like the lights had dimmed two notches, but in the air behind me the hum was the same and the bar still burned white.

I straightened. The reflection straightened with me, just a fraction slow, like a laggy video call.

"Rai-chan?" I kept my voice low. "You seeing this?"

Her voice crackled, then thinned. "What's up?? Everything looks clean. Cameras read normal. Are you—"

The faucet coughed and spat a ribbon of black water that shouldn't exist outside a nightmare. It hit my palms and didn't feel wet. I jerked back; the stream cleared to normal like nothing had happened.

"—Ikki?!" Rai-chan's voice faded under a low, glassy tone. A chime. Clear as crystal struck in a deep room. Three notes, spaced like steps.

"Something's w— just like bef—"

I looked up.

My reflection didn't.

It kept its head tipped, studying something past my shoulder that wasn't there.

At the corners of the glass, darkness thickened like old varnish, seeping inward along hairline cracks that hadn't been there a second ago. The lines between the tiles in the mirror buckled into angles that wouldn't add up if you sketched them. Depth slid sideways. The stalls in the reflection receded too far, as if the room inside the glass had put on another fifty feet when I wasn't watching.

The fluorescent bar across the ceiling of the reflected room shifted hue—white to amber, amber to a color I didn't have a word for. Not warm. Not cold. Familiar the way a headache is familiar.

The mirror breathed.

Not the air, the mirror. The surface lifted and fell a whisper's breadth, like a lung under skin.

Behind my reflection, something stood up.

I didn't see its face. There wasn't a face. There was a chair that wasn't a chair, tall-backed and wrong, and the suggestion of a figure seated in it, casting a long shadow. Thread-thin lines ran from the chair into the walls like wires. A sleeve lay along one armrest: orange, precise, the exact shade of the bookmark-glimpses I'd been catching all day. It shifted without creasing.

"Rai-chan." My throat was dry. "Hey."

Static. Then the faintest whisper, like her voice was being laid under a phonograph needle. "—domain—angle—Ikki, back away from the glass—"

The door behind me didn't exist anymore in the mirror. The reflection had sealed into a corridor that wasn't this corridor, tiled in a pattern that crawled if I looked too long. In there, light pooled without touching the floor.

The figure in the chair didn't move, but the shadow around it leaned forward.

The fluorescent in the mirror shattered silently. Not the sound - just the idea. The bathroom inside the glass went dark, and the dark wasn't absence. It had texture. It had steps.

Rai-chan's voice cut through like a pin of light. "Ikki, do not engage. Turn your head thirty degrees. Break the line. I can—"

The temperature in the bathroom dropped enough to make my breath smoke. Frost traced the rim of the mirror, then slid back inside it like it was being reeled in.

I turned my head, hard, to break the angle like Rai-chan said.

The mirror turned with me, reorienting around the room.

The glass no longer reflected this bathroom.

It reflected me as a cutout pasted onto a different space — pillars receding into a horizon that didn't curve, banners hanging without moving, a thousand thin threads strung from ceiling to floor. The chair sat where a vanishing point should be and refused to vanish.

Something touched the back of my neck. Not cold. Not warm. A weight the size of a coin.

"Raiko—" I cried desperately

Her voice came in as a squeal of metal on metal, then: "I'm here I'm here—hold onto the sink, now—"

I did. My fingers sank a fraction into porcelain.

The mirror bulged again, surface thickening, and the bulge had depth. You could have fallen into it the way you fall into sleep. The chair inside it loomed closer, the orange sleeve catching a light that wasn't there.

A crack appeared in the mirror. Not from impact. It spread from a point in the center, jagged as lightning, and through the crack I saw not the wall behind it but a sky of bruised violet, ringed with impossible towers.

Threads. I could see them now, crossing the air between the chair and the mirror's edge. Like strings. Like veins.

Then the glass broke around me without shattering, and the chair's shadow swallowed the floor beneath me.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.