The lake lay before them—dark, motionless—its surface reflecting the shattered remains of the ruined bridge like splintered glass. Pale mist drifted low across the water, coiling into fleeting shapes before dissolving into the cold air. Beyond it, the Tower of a Thousand Mirrors rose in silence, its distorted silhouette half-swallowed by fog.

Klara exhaled slowly, her gaze fixed on the tower. “This makes sense now,” she said. “Kevin mentioned it back in Frostholm, during his scout mission. He said Abyss creatures were gathering near the Tower before they spread out to attack.”

Friedrich’s jaw tightened. “And now we know why.”

“Beelzebul,” Klara replied quietly. “This place isn’t just dangerous. It’s a source.”

Star tightened her grip on her sword. “There has to be a way across. The bridge may be gone, but we’re not turning back.”

Klara stepped closer to the shoreline, folding her arms against the chill. “Swimming isn’t an option. That water feels… wrong.”

Siegfried crouched at the edge and dipped his fingers into the lake. The surface rippled outward—and for a fleeting instant, something shifted beneath it. A movement too fast, too deliberate. He pulled his hand back at once. “There’s something down there. Not just water.”

Friedrich scoffed, adjusting his stance. “Figures. Beelzebul wouldn’t leave the path unguarded.”

A low, distant groan rolled across the lake, reverberating through the mist like a dying exhale. Star swallowed and glanced at the others. “Then we find another way. Klara—any ideas?”

Klara tapped her chin, eyes flicking between the broken bridge and the water below. “A boat would help, but I don’t see one. Magic might work. Siegfried—could you freeze part of the lake?”

He hesitated. “I can try, but I don’t know if my Dew element would hold all of us. We’d need something more stable.”

“You’re overthinking it.”

The voice cut through the air.

They turned as one.

A young man stood several paces behind them, arms crossed, regarding them with faint amusement. There was something oddly familiar about him, though none of them could say why. His dark red eyes held a depth that was difficult to read, and a subtle smirk curved his lips.

Friedrich’s hand drifted toward his weapon. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

The man ignored the question. He stepped forward instead, gesturing toward the lake. “The Tower’s guardians don’t want you crossing. You’ve already figured that out. Fortunately for you, there’s still a way through.”

Klara raised an eyebrow. “And you just happen to know it?”

“I do.”

He knelt and picked up a smooth, flat stone, turning it over once before tossing it across the water. The moment it struck the surface, the lake convulsed. Deep beneath the waves, an ancient mechanism groaned awake. Runes flared to life in fractured lines of light, and from the depths emerged a broken path—stepping stones rising one by one, glowing faintly.

“A forgotten route,” the stranger said as he stood. “It won’t hold long. Move.”

Star hesitated, studying him. Something about his presence unsettled her—the ease with which he commanded attention, the quiet certainty in his voice. But there was no time to question it.

“Go,” she said, stepping onto the first stone.

It was slick, but solid. One by one, the others followed, leaping across the glowing platforms as they flickered uncertainly beneath their feet.

The lake churned violently now. Dark water roiled below them, and something massive stirred in its depths, releasing a guttural rumble that vibrated through their bones.

They ran.

Stones crumbled behind them, sinking back into the abyss. Friedrich stumbled, barely catching himself before losing his footing—Siegfried grabbed his arm and hauled him forward just in time. Klara vaulted ahead, already mapping the remaining path, her catalyst glowing faintly in her grasp.

A shadow moved beneath the surface.

Star kept her eyes forward. Just a few more steps.

The final platform rose before them. She pushed off and landed hard on solid ground. Siegfried, Klara, and Friedrich followed moments later, gasping for breath as the last stone dissolved into the depths.

They turned back.

The runes flickered once—then vanished. The lake stilled, smooth and silent, as though nothing had ever disturbed it.

“That was far too close,” Klara muttered, steadying herself. “Far too close.”

Star turned to thank the stranger—

He was gone.

Without lingering, they pressed on. The tower loomed overhead, its blackened stone rising like a relic torn from history. A massive wooden door stood before them, weathered yet imposing. Without hesitation, Siegfried and Friedrich stepped forward and forced it open, the groan of ancient hinges echoing like a half-remembered whisper. One by one, they crossed the threshold.

A vast corridor stretched before them, swallowed in shadow. Towering mirrors lined both sides, their surfaces polished to an unnatural sheen. The silence within was not empty—it was heavy, oppressive. Dust hung thick in the air, untouched by time.

Each mirror reflected them—but not as they knew themselves. Their images wavered and distorted, rippling like water disturbed by unseen currents, as though the reflections possessed a will of their own.

Intricate carvings covered the stone walls, twisting and interlocking in elaborate patterns. Amid the tangled designs, a single symbol repeated itself: three interwoven circles forming a perfect triquetra. Its symmetry was precise—too precise. It unsettled her.

“What is this place…?” Klara whispered, brushing her fingers along the cold stone. Her voice echoed faintly, as if the tower were listening.

“I’ve seen that symbol before,” Siegfried said quietly, his brow furrowing. “I just can’t remember where.”

A tightness formed in Star’s chest. The symbol tugged at something deep within her—not memory, but recognition. As if she had stood here once before. Or as if the symbol had been waiting for her.

“It feels familiar,” she murmured, the words leaving her before she could stop them. A chill slid through her veins, settling deep in her bones.

Siegfried stepped closer, concern flickering across his expression. “You feel it too.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “But I don’t know why.”

They moved on. The corridor seemed endless, the mirrors beginning to pulse with faint light—tiny points, like distant stars trapped behind glass. With every step, the air grew heavier, colder. The reflections stirred, growing restless. Watching.

The tower hummed faintly, as though awakening from a long slumber. Ancient secrets trembled beneath the stillness. Their footsteps no longer echoed in the present, but in something older—something buried.

Then the mirrors shifted.

At first, it was subtle. A shimmer. A ripple. Then darkness spread across the glass like ink bleeding through water. Veins of shadow warped their reflections into unfamiliar shapes.

Star stopped before the nearest mirror.

Her reflection stared back at her—but it was wrong.

The face was younger. The smile softer. The eyes, however, were vacant—caught in a moment of confusion and fear, as though trapped in a memory she did not understand, and could never escape.

Her heart began to pound.

The Tower had begun to show them what it remembered.