The transition from the Cathedral was seamless. The white marble didn't end; it simply became polished, growing more and more reflective until the walls, ceiling, and floor were perfect mirrors.
Victoria walked with a steady, rhythmic click of her boots. Behind her, Seraphina stumbled. The Paladin had managed to put her gambeson and mail back on, but her movements were jittery. She wouldn't look Victoria in the eye. To Seraphina, Victoria wasn't just a savior—she was a witness to her "shame."
"Don't look at the walls," Victoria warned.
"Why?" Seraphina rasped, her voice still raw from the screaming and gasping of the previous chamber. "What's left to see? The dungeon already showed everyone what I am... a creature of filth."
"The Mist showed you your biology," Victoria said, stopping in the center of a hall where a thousand Victorias and a thousand Seraphinas stared back. "The Mirrors show you your regret. If you look into them, you won't see your reflection. You'll see the version of yourself that stayed on the altar."
As if on cue, the reflections began to change.
In the glass, the "Mirror-Seraphina" wasn't wearing her armor. She was still on the altar, her face twisted in that same chemical ecstasy, beckoning the real Seraphina to come back, to give in, to stop fighting the "truth" of her desires.
Seraphina stopped, her eyes widening as she stared at the glass. "No... that’s not me. I’m a Knight of the Sun..."
"It’s a psychic echo," Victoria said, her own gaze fixed straight ahead.
Victoria looked at her own reflection. In the mirror, "Mirror-Victoria" wasn't a mage. She was still in the Puppet Master’s mansion, wearing the collar, her hands moving in that forced, rhythmic dance. The reflection was mocking her, whispering that no matter how many floors she cleared, she would always be a "toy" at her core.
Victoria didn't flinch. She didn't look away.
"Is that all?" Victoria asked the mirror, her voice flat and unimpressed.
She reached out and touched the glass. A violet ripple of mana spread from her fingertips.
"You think because I've been a victim, I am defined by it," Victoria whispered to her reflection. "But a scar is just skin that grew back stronger. You're a memory. I am a force."
"Gravity Pulse: Shatter."
Victoria didn't just break one mirror. She increased the atmospheric pressure in the hall so sharply that every reflective surface in the corridor exploded outward. Millions of glass shards hung in the air for a fraction of a second, suspended by her will, before falling to the floor like diamond dust.
Seraphina gasped, the "Other-Self" that had been mocking her vanishing into a pile of jagged glass. The oppressive weight on her chest lifted.
"How... how do you do it?" Seraphina asked, looking at Victoria’s back. "How are you so... untouched? You saw it too, didn't you? You saw the things that happened to you."
"I see them every day, Seraphina," Victoria said, resuming her walk over the crunching glass. "The difference is that I don't give them a seat at the table. The dungeon tries to use your past to anchor you. My past is the reason I know how to swim."
She stopped at the end of the hall and looked back at the Paladin.
"Pick up your shield. The Crystal Palace is only three floors down. If you're going to come with me, stop mourning the woman you were. Start respecting the woman who survived."
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40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡob50e6w3c5
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