Lena froze. The glow from the crystal painted the room in shades of blue. Her reflection in the window shimmered like water. For a second she thought it was only her imagination, but then the reflection moved. Not like a trick of light, but with intent.

She stood slowly. “Who are you,” she whispered.

The figure in the glass smiled faintly, the same smile she knew too well. “You already know,” it said, though its lips did not move. The voice was hers, only softer, stretched through distance.

Lena stepped closer. The window fogged as she breathed against it. The other her did the same, but the breath mark lingered longer, like it came from somewhere colder.

“What are you,” she asked.

The reflection tilted its head. “What you left behind. What the Gate took to make space for you.”

Lena’s chest tightened. “That’s not possible. I’m real.”

“So am I,” it said. “Two halves cannot cross together. One must stay. One must return.”

The glow of the crystal brightened until it filled the small chamber. The air vibrated. Lena stumbled back, knocking the chair against the wall.

From the corridor came the sound of boots and shouting. Someone had felt the pulse again. The door rattled as a guard called her name, but she couldn’t move. Her eyes stayed fixed on the glass.

The other her reached out, fingers pressing against the inside of the reflection. The glass rippled like water touched by rain. “The way is not closed,” the voice whispered again.

Then the light vanished. The window turned solid once more, showing only her frightened face.

The door burst open. Prince Alden stood there, flanked by two guards, his coat half fastened. “What happened,” he demanded.

Lena pointed at the window. “Someone was here. It looked like me.”

He scanned the room, eyes narrowing on the glowing crystal. “Did it speak.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “It said the same thing again. The way is not closed.”

The prince stepped to the window and touched the glass. It was warm. “You saw your reflection move.”

“I saw more than that,” Lena said. “It spoke to me. It said I left something behind.”

Alden’s face darkened. “Then the Gate has begun echoing across both sides. It is trying to rebuild what it lost.”

“What does that mean.”

“It means there are now two of you,” he said. “And that is impossible.”

He ordered the guards out and closed the door. For a long time he stood silent, staring at the floor. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “I have read accounts of people who crossed. None ever saw themselves again. The Gate took their memory or their body, never both. If it is giving you a reflection, it may be trying to pull you back.”

“Back to my world.”

“Or into something between,” he said. “A place that is neither.”

Lena’s hands trembled. “How do I stop it.”

“You cannot fight what you do not understand,” he said. “But we can contain it. I will have the lower chambers sealed again. You will stay in my protection until we know more.”

She nodded though her mind screamed questions.

That night the prince placed guards outside her door. The palace was restless again, whispers running through the halls like wind. Some said another tremor had cracked the outer wall. Others claimed the moon had turned the color of copper.

Lena sat on her bed watching the window. The crystal on her desk still pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat under glass. She reached out to touch it but stopped halfway.

She remembered the reflection’s words—what you left behind. What if her other self was still alive somewhere, living her old life, walking the same streets, unaware that a piece of her soul was missing.

The thought ached more than fear.

When morning light finally spilled through the window, she was still awake. Elara entered with tea and paused when she saw the crystal. “It changed color again,” she said softly.

Lena looked down. The blue had faded to silver. The light inside it swirled slowly, like mist trapped in a bottle.

Elara glanced toward the door to be sure no one was listening. “They say the Gate hums at dawn now. The guards hear it through the floor. The prince won’t let anyone near it. He says it’s only a tremor, but people are scared.”

Lena closed her fingers around the cup of tea, letting the warmth sink into her palms. “Maybe they should be.”

Elara looked at her carefully. “You sound like someone who knows how this ends.”

“I don’t,” Lena said. “But I think the Gate does.”

She turned toward the window again. Outside, the city shimmered in the early light, peaceful for now. Yet beneath its beauty she could feel it—the slow pulse of something ancient waking, a rhythm that matched her own heartbeat.

And somewhere beyond the reflection of that calm morning, another version of herself waited, watching, whispering the same words again and again.

The way is not closed.