Lyos Lever sat in the battered wooden chair, every muscle tense, his hands gripping the cold arms until his knuckles whitened. The cradle was silent except for the faint hum of city noise leaking through the concrete above. The mirrors lining the walls seemed to breathe, their surfaces rippling with each uncertain heartbeat.

  Liora and Soren flanked him, each holding one of his hands. Their touch was warm, steady-a lifeline in the chill that crept through the room. Lyos drew a shaky breath and focused on the largest mirror directly ahead, where his reflection waited, eyes dark and bottomless.

  He began to recite the ritual’s words, voice wavering at first but gaining strength with each syllable:

  "I see you. I know you. You are me, and I am you. The shadow cannot live where the light is whole."

  The air thickened, pressing in on his chest. The mirrors began to vibrate, a faint, discordant hum rising from the glass. Lyos’s reflection flickered, the face shifting between his own and something older, something colder.

  He felt the world tilt, as if gravity itself had changed. The cradle faded away, and Lyos tumbled into a place of endless reflections-a labyrinth of glass, each pane a window into a different version of himself. Some were familiar: Lyos as a child, Lyos at his parents’ funeral, Lyos at the foundation’s opening ceremony. Others were strangers: Lyos with blood on his hands, Lyos laughing with a voice not his own, Lyos standing over the bodies of people he didn’t recognize.

  He wandered the maze, every step echoing with the sound of his own heartbeat. The mirrors whispered, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of accusation and longing:

  "You let us in."

  "You wanted to forget."

  "You are the crack in the glass."

  Lyos pressed his palms to his ears, desperate to drown out the voices. But one voice cut through the noise-clear, cold, and familiar.

  His shadow self stepped from a mirror, identical in every way except for the eyes: black, endless, and hungry.

  "You think you can banish me?" the shadow sneered. "You are nothing without me. I am your strength, your anger, your freedom. You called for me when you were weak, and I answered."

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  Lyos shook his head. "You’re not my strength. You’re everything I tried to hide."

  The shadow circled him, movements fluid and predatory. "You needed me. When you lost your parents, when you failed, when you were afraid. I kept you alive. I gave you power."

  Lyos felt the old pain flare in his chest. "I don’t want your power. I want my life back."

  The shadow’s smile widened, impossibly sharp. "Then take it. If you can."

  In the real world, Liora and Soren watched as Lyos’s body tensed, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The air in the cradle grew colder, the glass on the walls fogging with frost. Soren gripped Lyos’s hand tighter, his own knuckles white.

  "Liora," he whispered, "he’s slipping."

  Liora squeezed Lyos’s hand, leaning close. "Lyos, listen to me. You’re not alone. Whatever you see, whatever it says, we’re here. Hold on to us."

  A low, guttural laugh echoed from the mirrors, sending a shiver through the room. For a moment, every reflection showed not Lyos, but his shadow-the black-eyed doppelganger, grinning with cruel delight.

  Inside the labyrinth, Lyos faced his shadow. The maze twisted around them, mirrors warping into jagged shards. The shadow lunged, hands closing around Lyos’s throat, cold as ice.

  "You can’t live without me," the shadow hissed. "You are nothing but fear and regret. I am the only thing that makes you real."

  Lyos struggled, gasping for breath. He remembered the Architect’s words from the journal: The shadow cannot create-it can only reflect. To defeat it, you must show it something it cannot mirror.

  He thought of Liora’s voice, Soren’s steady grip, the girl in the hospital, the promise he’d made to himself. He reached deep, past the fear and anger, to the part of himself that loved, that hoped, that believed.

  "I forgive you," Lyos whispered, his voice trembling. "And I forgive myself."

  The shadow recoiled as if struck. Its grip loosened, the blackness in its eyes flickering.

  Lyos pressed on, tears streaming down his face. "You’re a part of me, but you’re not all of me. I accept you. But I choose who I become."

  The mirrors shattered, light flooding the labyrinth. The shadow screamed, dissolving into a thousand shards of memory and pain.

  Lyos gasped, eyes flying open. The cradle was silent, the cold lifting. Liora and Soren were still there, their faces wet with tears.

  He looked around, every mirror now cracked but no longer threatening. He felt…lighter. Whole.

  Liora hugged him, sobbing with relief. Soren clapped him on the back, his own eyes shining.

  "You did it," Liora whispered. "You came back."

  Lyos nodded, exhaustion and gratitude mingling in his chest. "I’m still me."

  But as he glanced at the largest mirror, he saw his reflection smile-a real, tired, human smile. For the first time in weeks, it was only his.

  And somewhere, deep in the shadows, the Architect’s echo faded, leaving Lyos with the fragile hope that the cycle might finally be broken.