Kai's voice came out raw like it had been scraped from his throat.
"Lina… say my name."
The words didn't sound romantic down here.
They sounded like a life raft thrown into black water.
Lina felt it—the pull in her ribs, the bone-tether tugging toward Mirror Kai like her body had forgotten which truth it was supposed to protect. The Runic Grave wall hummed, hungry, as if enjoying the indecision the way fire enjoys oxygen.
Mirror Kai stood calm and perfect, hand extended.
The real Kai—her Kai—flickered at the edges like a candle trying not to go out.
Seren's breath hitched. Mira sobbed quietly into Lina's sleeve. Reyon stood frozen, eyes wide, as if he was watching a tragedy unfold in slow motion.
The Veilbound's voice drifted from the shadows, pleased.
"Choose," it murmured. "You already are."
Lina's throat tightened until she tasted panic.
Then she remembered something more dangerous than fear.
Rules.
Truth.
And the one thing the mirror could copy but never suffer properly:
Human hesitation.
Human strain.
Human imperfection.
Lina turned sharply toward the real Kai.
Not the calm one.
Not the perfect one.
The one who was breaking.
"Kai Rhen," Lina whispered, stepping closer.
His eyes snapped to hers—dark, desperate.
Lina grabbed his hand with both of hers.
Full contact.
Anchor.
The underwing shuddered like it hated the choice.
Kai's outline steadied for a breath.
Then flickered again, weaker.
Lina's chest tightened.
"Say my name," she demanded, voice shaking. "Stay real."
Kai swallowed, breath ragged. "Lina… Veris."
His voice cracked on her last name.
It wasn't smooth.
It wasn't printed.
It was painfully human.
The bone-tether in Lina's ribs flared hot—recognizing him.
Lina's eyes burned.
"Again," she whispered fiercely.
Kai's throat worked. "Lina Veris."
Better. Stronger. Still strained.
Lina leaned closer, almost forehead-to-forehead—dangerous proximity—but she didn't cross the line into a kiss or softness. She held him like a lifeline.
"Stay real," Lina whispered.
Kai's breath hitched. "I'm here."
The tether warmed.
For one breath, the pull toward Mirror Kai weakened.
Mirror Kai's voice slid in, gentle as poison.
"You're hurting him," he murmured. "Let go. I can carry you."
Lina didn't look at him.
She stared at the real Kai and tightened her grip.
"Kai," she said, voice shaking, "say your name."
Kai's eyes widened. "Kai… Rhen."
The underwing screamed.
Not an actual scream.
A vibration through the runes, through the stones, through Lina's bones.
The Runic Grave wall pulsed like it had been struck.
The Veilbound hissed softly in the dark.
"Careful," it warned. "Names spoken with intent have power down here."
"Good," Lina whispered.
Then she said the line that had saved them before—hard, clear, weaponized:
"Say my name. Stay real."
And she didn't just say it to Kai.
She said it to the room.
To the wall.
To the shadow that had been rewriting their lives with ink and porcelain.
The underwing trembled.
Mirror Kai's smile flickered—mechanical, glitched.
Because the room didn't like being addressed.
It liked being obeyed.
Seren's hands lifted, shaking. "I can—" she whispered. "I can trace him."
Kai's eyes snapped to Seren. "No—"
Seren's voice cracked. "You're fading. I need your resonance signature. I need… something the mirror can't copy."
Seren closed her eyes, and Echo Borrowing surged—not gentle this time. It was like a hook thrown into the past.
Her voice layered instantly—older, heavier:
"The first oath leaves a scar."
Seren's eyes flew open, glowing.
She reached toward Kai's wrist—not touching, just hovering—and whispered in the dead-voice tone:
"Your first oath. The one you broke."
Kai flinched like he'd been stabbed.
His Oathbreaker mark flared beneath his glove—hot, violent.
The Veilbound leaned in, hungry.
"Yes," it murmured. "Let us see it."
Kai's breath turned ragged. "Stop."
Seren's voice trembled, fighting the borrowed echo. "I'm sorry—Kai—say the vow. Not the Council one. Yours."
Kai stared at Lina, pain and fury tangled.
Then, through clenched teeth, he whispered:
"I swore—" His voice broke. "I swore to protect someone who didn't deserve what happened."
The words weren't smooth.
They weren't rehearsed.
They were wound words.
The underwing shuddered.
And Lina felt the bone-tether flare like a heartbeat recognizing an old scar.
Mirror Kai didn't react.
Not properly.
His eyes softened, yes—but there was no involuntary twitch, no flicker of suppressed rage, no micro-flinch at the memory.
He was acting it.
Kai was living it.
Reyon's sticky illusion residue struck again—like the underwing's runes grabbed Reyon's fear and made it visible.
Mirror Kai's shadow lagged half a second behind his body.
His expression stuttered—smile freezing, then resuming.
A faint reflection peeled off his shoulder like a glitch and snapped back.
Reyon whispered, horrified, "He's desynced."
Seren's eyes widened. "He can't hold the scar."
Lina inhaled sharply.
"Then we don't fight him with words," Lina whispered.
She tightened her grip on Kai's hand and stepped into him—close enough to feel his breath through the mask.
Touch anchors reality.
Kisses lock prophecy.
She didn't kiss him.
She pressed her forehead to his—just enough to share warmth, not enough to ignite the dangerous surge.
Kai shuddered, breath catching.
The tether pulsed bright.
The pull toward Mirror Kai snapped back—harder—like the underwing panicked at Lina stabilizing the real Kai.
Mirror Tax came for her.
Instantly.
Violently.
A new false memory slammed into Lina's mind like a door kicked open—
Lina, alone in a corridor, begging Kai to stay.
Kai turning away, cold.
Kai saying:
"I chose the Council. I always will."
Lina gasped, head snapping back as if struck.
Her grip loosened for a heartbeat.
And the underwing seized it.
Kai flickered—thinner, lighter—
Mirror Kai stepped forward like gravity.
Seren shouted, "Lina! Don't take it—don't accept it—"
Lina's eyes burned.
She recognized the feel now: too neat, too cinematic, too cruelly timed.
Mirror Tax.
A lie masquerading as certainty.
Lina swallowed hard and did the only thing she could do without thinking—
She spoke her name like a blade.
"Lina Veris."
Then again, louder:
"Lina Veris."
Kai's voice cut in, urgent, anchoring:
"Stay real."
"I'm here," Lina rasped, and the false memory splintered—still there, still trying to cling, but no longer solid.
Mirror Kai's hand shot out—almost touching Lina's shoulder—
Kai jerked forward, shadow flaring, intercepting.
His body flickered harder, but he shoved himself between Lina and the mirror with a low, brutal sound.
"Don't," Kai rasped. "Touch her."
Mirror Kai's voice softened, almost pleading.
"Lina," he said, "you don't have to suffer. I can be what you need."
The Veilbound whispered from the shadows, delighted:
"Yes. Choose the easier one."
Lina's flame rose—controlled, furious.
She stared at Mirror Kai.
Then at the real Kai—fading, fighting, terrified.
And Lina understood the cruelty:
The mirror wasn't trying to win with strength.
It was trying to win with comfort.
With a version of Kai that didn't hurt, didn't snap, didn't tremble, didn't demand bravery.
A version that would never make her pay Mirror Tax because he'd never trigger truth.
Lina's chest tightened.
She stepped toward the real Kai again and grabbed his hand—hard.
"Kai Rhen," Lina said, voice fierce. "Say my name."
Kai's breath hitched. "Lina Veris."
"Again."
"Lina Veris."
"Stay real."
"I'm here," Kai rasped—and his voice cracked like a person refusing to vanish.
The underwing trembled violently.
The Runic Grave wall pulsed.
And in the stone ledger, a new line began to carve itself—fresh, wet-ink bright.
A name Lina had never seen there before.
Her own.
Lina's blood turned to ice as letters formed:
LINA VERIS — 7 DAYS —
A symbol began to etch beside it.
Not finished.
Still carving.
And as the Veilbound's laughter echoed softly in the dark, the unfinished symbol took its first shape—
a quill.
🖋️
Name rewritten.
Existence edited.
The Veilbound whispered, pleased:
"Good," it murmured. "Now the story can finally rewrite you too."
To be Continued© Kishtika., 2025
All rights reserved.