Chapter 33: Mirrorwake
The world rebuilt itself wrong.
Rhea awoke face-down on glass that breathed. Every inhale sent cracks spiraling beneath her, and every exhale stitched them back together. Above her, the sky hung upside-down — a reflection of the real one she had destroyed. Cities floated like ghosts, burning backward, their fires drawing themselves into torches instead of out.
She pushed herself up. Her armor was scorched black, her skin faintly silvered. The crown — or what remained of it — hovered inches from her skull, cracked and leaking light like blood.
"System reboot… incomplete."
The ship's AI voice was hollow, distorted, as if spoken underwater.
"Valkyrion," Rhea croaked, "status."
"Unclear. You are… elsewhere."
Elsewhere. The word fit.
She looked around — an endless plain of mirrored ground, fractured spires stabbing into a crimson sky. Each shard reflected not her face, but versions of her — some younger, some older, some wearing the crown whole. They stared back with knowing eyes.
"Where… am I?"
"The Mirrorwake," came a whisper.
She turned. Kaelith stood a few paces away, or a copy of him did — translucent, his edges flickering. His armor was gone, replaced by woven shadows that crawled like smoke.
"I killed you," she said.
He smiled. "You killed something. The Citadel was never a place, Rhea. It was a doorway. And you've stepped through."
She steadied her breathing. The air tasted of copper and dreams. "What is this? Another illusion?"
"Not illusion. Reflection." He gestured to the horizon. "Everything you broke… now breaks you."
Lightning forked across the red sky, striking the ground and splitting it into hundreds of perfect fragments. Each showed moments from her past — battles, betrayals, faces of those she'd lost. Then they began to move on their own, replaying scenes that hadn't happened yet: her holding the throne, her world in ruins, her name whispered as curse.
Rhea clenched her fists. "I won't repeat their cycle."
Kaelith's smile faded. "That's what they all said. Every heir who tried to rewrite the prophecy. Every one became the monster they feared."
The mirror beneath her feet rippled. A hand shot up from it — hers, pale and shaking, trying to pull her down. She jumped back, but more followed — dozens, all her own.
They whispered in unison:
"You sit. You rule. You burn."
Rhea activated her Voidlance. The blue-white energy roared to life, reflecting endlessly in the mirrored ground. She swung. Shards shattered — but each one screamed as it broke, releasing flashes of memory that clawed into her skull.
She stumbled, clutching her head. The whispers multiplied.
Kaelith watched, expression unreadable. "You can't fight yourself, Rhea. The Citadel made sure of that."
"Then I'll fight you," she hissed.
She lunged. The Voidlance pierced through him — and passed clean through. He didn't flinch. His image rippled like water, reforming behind her.
"Still thinking in flesh," he said softly. "But here, thought is power. Fear is law."
He raised his hand. The ground responded — a wave of mirror shards rising like teeth. They circled her, forming a cage.
Rhea inhaled, forcing her pulse to slow. She closed her eyes, feeling the rhythm of the Citadel echo faintly inside her chest. If fear ruled this realm, she would give it something to fear.
She whispered, "Override protocol: Singularity."
The crown above her head flared white. The mirror world convulsed. A vortex of raw energy erupted from her body, bending the horizon. Kaelith staggered back, his form glitching.
Rhea opened her eyes — now completely silver.
The cage shattered. Shards hovered midair, orbiting her like planets.
"You learned," Kaelith murmured, admiration and sorrow mixing in his tone.
"I remembered," she corrected. "I am the Citadel now."
She thrust her hand forward. The shards obeyed, converging on Kaelith's image. They struck — and for the first time, he bled light. His body cracked open, revealing a core of dark flame.
"You can't destroy what you are," he rasped.
"Watch me."
The mirrored plain beneath them began to dissolve. In the reflection, Rhea saw another world — her world — flickering back to life through the cracks. She was breaching realities, tearing open the wall between them.
Kaelith's voice broke into static. "If you open it, you'll let them through."
"Who?"
"The Architects. The ones who built the first Citadel. They've been waiting in the dark for the next heir to break the seal."
His warning came too late.
A fissure split the air, stretching from horizon to horizon. From within spilled a sound like the universe inhaling — and something vast moved inside the light.
Rhea fell to one knee, holding her head as a flood of visions consumed her: towering shapes of living geometry, faces carved from star-fire, voices that spoke in chords instead of words.
They saw her.
'Heir of the broken crown,' they intoned, overlapping like a thousand choirs. 'The heart beats once more.'
Kaelith staggered, his image fading fast. "You've doomed both sides, Rhea. They'll rebuild the Citadel through you."
She looked up, her expression cold, almost serene. "Then I'll decide what they rebuild."
The vortex widened. Light flooded everything. The Architects' forms twisted, trying to emerge — but Rhea seized control of the crown. The cracks in it glowed brighter, spilling arcs of energy that tethered the rift itself.
She screamed, pouring every memory, every scar, every ounce of defiance into the act.
"I am not your vessel!"
The light imploded. The Mirrorwake shattered into silence.
When sight returned, Rhea was kneeling in a field of black glass under a sky of shifting auroras. Her armor was gone. The crown lay beside her, cracked into three fragments.
Footsteps approached. She looked up.
It was Darek — or something wearing his shape. His eyes were white voids, his body humming with residual energy.
"Captain," he said softly. "Welcome back."
Rhea's throat tightened. "How…?"
"The Valkyrion survived the breach. We're… not where we were." He extended a hand to her. "We need to move. This world isn't stable."
She hesitated, staring at his hand — then at the fragments of the crown. Each one pulsed faintly, alive.
"What happened to the others?"
Darek's gaze flickered. "They didn't make it."
But something in his voice felt wrong — a delay, a distortion, as if another voice was speaking through him.
Rhea stood slowly, keeping her distance. "Who are you really?"
He smiled — not kindly. "Still learning how to lie, I see."
The ground behind him cracked. From the fissure, pale light spilled — and within it, she saw the silhouettes of the Architects, vast and waiting.
Darek tilted his head. "You thought you closed the door. You only built a window."
The fragments of the crown lifted from the ground, spinning in the air. They began to fuse again, drawn by unseen gravity.
Rhea raised her weapon, heart pounding. "Then I'll break the glass."
Darek's grin widened, inhuman and knowing. "Try."
The horizon screamed.