chapter 3

She knelt in front of her younger self, who watched her with unreadable eyes.

Reaching out, Enos gently placed her hand on the child's head. Her voice, though soft, rang with resolve.

"I accept."

In that instant, a blinding light burst from the child's chest, flooding the broken village in radiant gold. The shadow behind them let out a piercing shriek as it dissolved into mist, unraveling like smoke caught in wind.

The world around them shattered—not violently, but gently, like glass returning to sand.

The two forms—child and present—merged into one as the light engulfed them both. Memories rushed in: laughter once forgotten, pain once buried, and strength once denied. Enos saw her past not as weakness, but as the foundation of who she truly was.

When the light faded, Enos stood alone.

But something was different.

She felt whole.

A low hum returned to the air, and the glowing path of woven light reformed beneath her feet. A familiar voice spoke from behind.

"You faced your first echo," Kaelen said, appearing from the mist. His golden eyes shone with something close to pride.

"And you reclaimed what was lost. The Realm of Echo has begun to remember you."

With a newfound clarity in her eyes, Enos stepped forward, her posture no longer cautious but confident—grounded. The weight that had once dragged behind her was gone, replaced by a steady strength she hadn't known she possessed.

The wand—no longer flickering but solid and luminous—rested firmly in her hand as though it had always belonged there. She held it high and whispered, with power in her voice:

"Let’s complete this puzzle that I had once forgotten and hidden."

She took another step, her eyes narrowing at the path ahead.

"Let’s face this fear."

The Realm of Echo responded.

The mist cleared, revealing a vast hall of mirrors—some cracked, others whole—each reflecting not just her image, but versions of her. Enos as a child, Enos broken, Enos strong, angry, brave, quiet… dozens of selves she had lived, buried, denied.

Kaelen stood at the threshold. “The Mirror Hall will not show you illusions,” he warned. “Only truths. Some will beg to be embraced. Others—to be destroyed.”

Enos didn’t falter. “I’m not running anymore.”

As she stepped into the Hall, the mirrors rippled. One by one, they began to speak—not with voices, but with emotions, memories, and flashes of moments long buried.

The second echo was about to begin.

Enos stood still in the center of the Mirror Hall, her wand lowered at her side, eyes scanning the shifting reflections. Each mirror rippled with light and memory—versions of herself frozen in moments long past.

One mirror showed her sobbing beneath storm clouds.

Another, laughing uncontrollably beside someone she could no longer name.

One showed her running away.

Another, standing tall with a crown of flame.

Some versions smiled with kindness. Others stared back with resentment, anger… even hatred.

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