The Invitation
It began again — softly, insistently.
The mirrors in Lumiel's dorm trembled as if something on the other side were breathing.The light bent, spelling faint crimson letters across the wall:
Come deeper, Lumiel Valentine. The dream remembers you.
He sat up in bed, hair a mess, eyes half-open. "The last time I followed glowing text, I accidentally created liquor that made people dance on tables."
Kuroha's tail flicked in the dark. "Progress, not failure. At least you didn't explode."
Ayaka stirred across the room, half-asleep. "If you're going to project again, wake me when you invent breakfast."
"Duly noted," he said.Then he closed his eyes.
Crossing the Veil
This time the passage didn't feel like falling.It felt like being read.
Every thought, every emotion, every half-forgotten dream — the Astral Plane pulled them into its current like pages turning in a cosmic book.
The world formed around him: a sea of mirrors, calm and endless, but darker than before.The colors here were richer, almost physical — every shade whispered a memory.
Kuroha appeared at his side, radiant and solemn.
"This isn't the same layer. You've gone beneath the reflection."
"Where does that put us?" Lumiel asked.
"Inside the echo of creation. Where gods leave their drafts."
The Hall of Forgotten Names
They walked across a bridge of light, each step igniting symbols beneath their feet.Every rune carried a name: gods, angels, and things older than either.Some glowed warmly, remembered. Others flickered like dying stars.
One rune pulsed faintly when Lumiel stepped near — Hel.Another beside it flared brighter — Odin.
He touched them, and visions rippled through him like water:a frozen throne under red skies, a voice singing life into fire, another whispering comfort into death.For a heartbeat, Lumiel saw them both — the Allfather and the Queen of Shadows — facing each other across the void.
"They created the Red Code together," Kuroha murmured. "A language to bind opposites."
"And broke each other trying to use it," Lumiel whispered.
The Voice in the Mirrors
A whisper brushed his ear — not Odin's, not Hel's, but something new.
You're rewriting what they ended. Why?
"I don't know yet," Lumiel said. "Maybe because someone has to."
You're not correcting code… you're teaching it empathy.
The mirrors rippled.A faint figure began forming in the distance — light and shape coalescing around a pulse of red script.
You remember laughter, the voice continued. That's why you can hear me.
Lumiel took a step closer. "Who are you?"
The light dimmed, taking shape: a tall figure of shimmering rose-gold, her hair glowing like dawn. Her eyes, bright crimson, spun with living runes.The Red Code flowed through her veins like rivers of light.
But she wasn't fully there — just an outline, like a memory waiting to be born.
The Fragment of Her
She tilted her head. "You're not supposed to be here yet, Lumiel Valentine."
He froze. Her voice was calm, melodic, and slightly amused — the sound of someone who already knew the end of his sentence.
"Then why call me?"
"Because you're close," she said simply. "And I'm lonely."
Kuroha bristled slightly. "Who are you?"
"I am… what happens when the void begins to dream of companionship."
The reflection of her face flickered, stabilizing for a moment.Her features were sharp yet soft, beautiful but inhuman — an elf sculpted from thought and fire.
"You can call me… Cartethyia."
The Awakening Pulse
The moment she said the name, the entire Astral Plane reacted.
The sea flared with red light; runes shot upward like fireflies.Lumiel clutched his chest — the Red Code inside him blazed, harmonizing with hers.
He felt her presence intertwine with his — a pattern sync, like two notes finding the same pitch.It didn't hurt; it felt like recognition.
Cartethyia smiled faintly. "See? You already understand the syntax."
"I— I didn't mean to—"
"You didn't need to. You were born to complete what they began."
Her form flickered, fading. "Don't rush, Lumiel. The other fragments still sleep. When you gather them all, I'll wake fully."
"Then what will you be?" he asked softly.
"Your reflection, made whole. The voice that remembers when you forget."
And then she was gone.
Return
The sea stilled. The light dimmed.Lumiel stood alone again, Kuroha silent beside him.
The fox finally spoke. "You saw her."
Lumiel nodded slowly. "She called herself Cartethyia."
"A name like that doesn't appear by accident," Kuroha said. "She's already connected to your essence."
He exhaled shakily. "Feels like I met the soul of the Red Code."
Kuroha smiled faintly. "Or maybe it met the soul of you."
Back in the Waking World
Lumiel's eyes opened to the quiet of dawn.The mirror beside his bed shimmered faintly.For the briefest moment, he saw her reflection — smiling at him before fading with the light.
On his wrist, a faint crimson sigil pulsed once, then vanished.It left behind warmth — not heat, not pain — just… presence.
He whispered to the empty room, "I'll find you."
From the mirror, a soft voice answered — barely a breath.
"I know."