chapter 4

But Enos did not flinch.

She waited.

She didn’t chase the reflections.

She didn’t deny them.

She simply acknowledged them.

One by one, the mirrors stopped flickering. The images within them grew still. Then, as if reaching silent agreement, the versions of Enos stepped forward—through the glass.

They circled her, wordless. Watching. Testing. Waiting to see what she would do.

Then the final mirror cracked down the center, and from it emerged a version cloaked in shadow—her face half-hidden, her expression unreadable. This version of Enos held no wand, no light—only a jagged shard of memory clenched in her hand.

Kaelen’s voice echoed from beyond the hall:

“Only one may remain.”

The circle of selves began to close in.

And the shadow-Enos stepped forward.

Enos took a slow, steady breath. Her heart didn’t race. Her hand didn’t tremble.

With calm purpose, she raised her hand—not in defense, not to cast a spell, but as a gesture of understanding—toward the shattered final mirror and the shadowed version of herself that had stepped from it.

The dark Enos paused. Her eyes, though veiled in shadow, flickered—flickered like something ancient had just stirred. She clutched the jagged shard of memory tighter, a sharp breath escaping her lips, as if expecting judgment… or rejection.

But Enos took a step closer, her palm still open.

“I see you,” she said softly. “You’re the part I buried. The pain I refused to carry. The fear I wore like armor.”

The shard trembled in the shadow’s hand.

“You’re not my enemy,” Enos continued. “You’re my scar. And scars don’t make us weak—they show we’ve survived.”

The shadow-Enos hesitated, and for the first time… she lowered her gaze. Then slowly, carefully, she placed the memory shard into Enos’s waiting hand.

The moment their fingers touched, a brilliant white light surged through the hall.

The mirrors cracked—then shattered—not in violence, but in release.

The many versions of Enos dissolved into threads of light, each returning to her like stars drawn back into their constellation. Memories flooded her—not just the good, not just the heroic—but everything: the doubt, the rage, the grief, the joy, the love.

And through it all, one truth remained:

She was whole.

When the light faded, Enos stood alone once more in a quiet hall.

Kaelen appeared at her side.

He looked at her with quiet reverence.

“You’ve done it,” he said. “You’ve remembered who you are.”

“I have remembered who I am,” Enos whispered, her voice steady and full—no longer searching, no longer afraid.

She raised her head, the light of a thousand reclaimed memories glowing in her eyes.

“I am Enos Azerial—

The child who endured.

The girl who forgot.

The seeker who wandered.