Chapter 14 · Mirror Nightmares

"Stop looking at me like that," the thing in the mirror spat.

It wasn't just a reflection. It was Jace—same jagged scar across the jaw, same tired eyes—but its voice sounded like grinding glass. It leaned forward, pressing its palms against the silver surface of the glass, and the mirror didn't just reflect the movement. It bowed. The glass rippled like water.

Jace didn't flinch. He stepped closer, his boots crunching on the shards of a shattered vanity. "You're not me," he said, his voice flat. "You're just a bad memory with a god complex."

"I'm the part of you that didn't break," the Mirror-Jace sneered. It slammed a fist against the glass from the inside. A hairline crack spider-webbed across the surface. "You think building a few walls makes you a king? You're still that broke piece of shit from Earth, playing house in a graveyard."

Jace felt a spark of heat in his chest. Not anger—hunger. The thing in the mirror was radiating fear, masked by arrogance. It was terrified of being shattered. It was terrified of being forgotten.

"Is that what this is?" Jace asked, his voice dropping an octave.