Round 194 Transcript

Seraphine's hand touches the mirror, and her reflection blinks in surprise. The room begins to distort, the books on the shelves warping like melted wax. The air fills with a sweet, decaying scent, and Seraphine sways slightly, as if off-balance. Jeane catches her elbow, steadying her. The mirror's surface ripples, revealing a scene that isn't quite right. A familiar room, but one that doesn't match Seraphine's memories. The writing desk is the same, but the papers on it are different, the quills stained with ink that isn't quite right. Seraphine's reflection stands at the desk, her eyes fixed intently on something behind Jeane. A faint whispering echoes through the room, the words indistinguishable but the malevolent intent clear. The ground beneath their feet shudders, as if the tower itself is protesting their intrusion. The Keeper of the Test's voice booms in the distance, "The reflections are not what they seem. Be wary, Seraphine, for the truth may be more than you can bear."

I catch Seraphine as she sways, steadying her against my chest. The sweet rot smell is getting stronger—like something beautiful that died weeks ago and is still being admired anyway. This isn't right. My runes are screaming at me to get out, but we're already here and the tower's groaning like a dying beast above us. I look over Seraphine's shoulder at the wrong desk—the quills aren't even proper parchment tools, they're something else entirely. The reflection is still smiling, which means whatever happens next is definitely not good news for us. I don't want to step through that mirror—I want to burn this whole fucking room down—but we need answers and Merrin deserves more than our cowardice. I spin Seraphine around to face me, both hands on her shoulders now. We go in together, stay close, trust nothing we see. If it starts feeling wrong—really wrong, not just uncomfortable—we abort immediately. No heroics, no getting lost in memories. My eyes search hers, making sure she understands. This is reconnaissance, not a fucking vacation. Get what we need and get out before the whole place collapses around our heads. I take a deep breath and pull her into a quick, hard kiss—part good luck charm, part grounding us in reality. For Merrin, I whisper against her lips, and for us staying alive long enough to actually use whatever truth we find. Then I grab her hand and step forward into the mirror before either of us can think better of it.

I feel Jeane's lips press against mine, hard and quick, a jolt of sensation that grounds me even as the world around us shimmers and warps. Merrin. For her, we can do this.
The mirror gives way under our touch, not shattering but dissolving like mist, and suddenly we're standing somewhere else entirely. It looks like another library, but everything is wrong. The books are bound in strange skins, the titles written in a language I can almost understand but not quite grasp. A heavy, cloying scent of old magic and something fleshy hangs in the air, making my stomach turn.
I pull away from Jeane's hold, my hand instinctively reaching for my staff before remembering it isn't there. No matter—this is about learning, not fighting. At least, that's what I tell myself as my eyes land on a familiar face across the room. It's me. Another reflection, but this one isn't smiling. She looks... anguished. Broken.
The reflection sees us and her expression shifts from pain to something predatory. She opens her mouth, but before she can speak, Jeane is already moving. Her wings flare out, crackling with a defensive energy, and she steps in front of me protectively. The air hums with the power building around her.
I push past her, my curiosity overriding my fear for a moment. I need to know what this version of me knows.
Wait! I call out, my voice echoing unnaturally loudly in the silent chamber. The reflection stops, tilting her head like a curious predator. She takes a step closer, and I feel an inexplicable pull towards her, a strange sense of homecoming that makes my skin crawl.
Are you... me? I ask, my voice so quiet it’s almost lost in the air. The reflection nods slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. She raises a hand, and I see the same scar on her knuckle that I have from a childhood accident. My heart hammers against my ribs.
She speaks, and her voice is my own but older, wearier. It’s a sound I know better than anyone else's, yet it feels utterly foreign coming from someone else's lips. We are the same, Seraphine, but not the same. We have seen... things. Done... things. She gestures around the room, at the twisted books and the oppressive air. This is our history. Our past. And yours too. Her eyes flicker to Jeane, who hasn't moved from her protective stance. But some of it... some of it isn’t what you think. I feel a chill run down my spine as she says this. What could be so different about the past we remember? Did I forget something? Misremember something? I have to know. The reflection nods again, a sad, resigned expression on her face. Then come and see. But be prepared, Seraphine. The truth isn’t always what we hope it will be.