Hector doesn't get to blink, let alone exclaim. The world simply tears asunder, and he finds himself enveloped in the velvet darkness, like the arms of a lover. He doesn't know how long he floats there, unsure if his eyes are open or closed.

When the darkness dissipates, a silver mist replaces it, and Hector sees a world made of mirrors. Tiny pieces of his face are reflected back to him a million times over. He looks terrible—like shit, he would've said out loud, but he still can't bring himself to speak from the shock.

Damien is nowhere in sight. Hector's head pounds. He tries to take a step forward, and it is too much. The glass breaks—

And he's no longer in the shards, but instead, he sees a number of lifetimes playing within the mirrors like scenes from a movie. The lives in there belong to him and Damien, sometimes together, mostly apart. Rare insights into who they were when they said their goodbyes.

In one reflection, Hector pokes at a newborn Eliav, sleeping uneasily in his mother's arms. The baby wails. Hector is devastated, turning to a small but already bigger-than-life Alexandros who watches him in amusement. Their mother laughs, gently bouncing Eli.

He's nine years old in the next memory, on his knees in the heart of Ourea, the beloved capital of Thesucles. The sky is dark, the moon already out. Rain is weighing him down; blood is seeping into the fabric of his jeans. The demon is dead, its body still steaming in the open air. A portal sparks out of existence, sealed with immaculate blue stitches. Hector wonders what they'll do with the demon body if it doesn't go through the portal.

(A young woman in a black suit crouches beside him, her brown eyes sad. 'You're Hector Argyris, aren't you? I'm sorry…your parents fought until the end.')

Fast-forward to a shared memory.

One year later.

Damien is seated next to Hector. Hector steals glances at the delicate planes of his classmate's face. Damien tries not to stare at the new kid's bright, boyish face, further illuminated by the morning light. He knows Hector is studying him, but he's too shy to say anything other than a stammered h-hello.

The next memory is more Damien's than Hector's, but there's still a hint of him there. On a cold hall rooftop, two boys lie side-by-side, counting stars. Damien's legs are long and straight, hands folded neatly over his stomach. Hector has an arm tossed carelessly above his head. He crosses his ankles and exhales a long stream of cigarette smoke.

They aren't speaking to each other yet, but he is burning with questions. He wants to ask Hector where he got the cigarettes. He wants to ask if his date won't miss him. He also wants to ask why he asked the girl to the dance when he really knows that Hector wanted to ask him.

He wants to tell Hector he would've said yes, and he's sorry that he lied about the girl.

But he says none of these things.

Hector continues to smoke, his sharp nose and romantic mouth outlined against the constellations. Damien closes his eyes, but the image doesn't leave him.

Then—the last shard.

Damien's birthday.

He's on a fishing boat with his parents, laughing under the summer sun. But it is not a joyous memory. A sudden, heavy wave overturns their boat. It is not an accident—but Damien doesn't realise until it's too late.

Something takes hold of his legs, almost crushing them in its grip. He burbles and chokes, dragged underwater, trying to fight free. The distance between him and the ocean's surface grows. He thinks he hears his mother screaming and his magic, white as a scar, thrash with him.

The shard turns black, and Hector is shrouded in darkness once more.