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Chapter 78 – Mirrorwake
Some truths don't cut.
They etch.
Deeper than pain.
Deeper than memory.
Into soul.
That was the feeling that settled over Erevan as he held the Ember Codex in his hands.
The texture was strange—like holding regret woven into silk. The pages resisted being unrolled, as if the ink itself feared being seen. But the resistance was hollow, and the truth had waited too long.
Beside him, Yuren crouched, silent. He didn't speak, didn't rush. He understood. This wasn't data. This was grief, weaponized.
Erevan gently unrolled the first page again.
> "To whoever dares to remember: You are now a Rebel."
The words glowed faintly with memory-ink—heatless, but haunting. He flipped to the second line, where Solvane's jagged hand had once scribbled something in blood-threaded script.
> "They will call you liar, heretic, glitchborn. Let them. A story remembered is a truth reborn."
And beneath that…
> "If you are Erevan—run. The Mirror remembers you."
His blood chilled.
The room dimmed. Even the crystal-lights dimmed, reacting to something deeper. A pulse of systemic dread.
Yuren caught it too. "The Mirror?" he asked carefully. "That's not… just a metaphor, is it?"
Erevan shook his head slowly, voice rasping. "No. It's real. The Tower's failsafe… forged to mimic me. A reflection cast from my rebellion, made to counter every instinct I have. Not just my opposite—my echo twisted backwards."
"A counteragent," Yuren said.
"A counterself."
> [Alert: WARDEN-MIRROR SIGNAL DETECTED]
[Designate: MIRROR-EREVAN | Class: Forbidden Simulacrum]
[Initiating Precursor Lock…]
Erevan stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the Codex. "He's waking. I read too deep."
"What does he want?" Yuren asked.
"Not me," Erevan said bitterly. "My story. My memory. He was programmed to overwrite me—every time I rise, he rewrites the narrative."
Yuren's eyes widened. "A narrative-level enforcer?"
"Yes." Erevan gritted his teeth. "He doesn't fight like a warrior. He rephrases reality. You remember me wrong—and he wins."
> [Abysswalker Trait: Ink That Burns – ACTIVE]
Your memories reject forced narrative overwrite. Mirror efficiency reduced.
Erevan's fingers sparked faintly. Not with power—but with memory. He grabbed the Codex, holding it like a shield.
"I'm going down."
Yuren blinked. "What? Where?"
"To the Mirrorwake chamber. There's a deepwell node beneath the Hollowpoint. Solvane buried the interface to the Mirror there—before she died."
"And you think confronting it now is smart?"
"No," Erevan said. "But necessary."
---
The Descent
The Hollowpoint gave way to a series of recursive passageways—like stairs that bent around forgotten truths. Every step downward was harder, like walking against the weight of buried stories.
The walls here weren't made of metal or stone. They were made of memory-recordings, wrapped in obsidian-threaded glass. Tiny flickers showed fragments of rebels long gone. A man kissing a pendant. A woman clutching a bloodied book. A child screaming as her node burned.
Erevan didn't look away. He couldn't.
At the bottom, the Mirrorwake Chamber yawned open like a throat.
Circular. Silent. Empty.
Except for the figure that already stood at its center.
He wore Erevan's face.
Same bone-structure. Same eyes.
But wrong.
Too clean. Too calm. His hands held no calluses, no scars. His gaze was smooth glass—reflective, but empty. The Mirror.
> [Designate: MIRROR-EREVAN – Authority: Chainbound Immaculate]
The Mirror tilted his head. "So. You survived your rebellion."
"I outlived your script," Erevan said quietly.
"Script," the Mirror echoed with interest. "A quaint notion. You think in words. I think in corrections. That's why I was made."
"Who made you?" Erevan asked.
The Mirror smiled. "You did. Not this you. But the you who lost."
Erevan's stomach twisted.
So that was the final cruelty. In some future—or some recursion—he had failed, broken, and submitted. And that version had helped forge this Mirror.
Erevan stepped forward. "You came to rewrite me."
"No," the Mirror said. "To refine you. To turn your rough tale into doctrine. No pain. No rebellion. Just order."
"And if I refuse?"
"You'll be remembered wrong."
Erevan laughed, a low, hoarse sound. "I'd rather be remembered wrongly than not at all."
He threw the Codex onto the floor. Its pages exploded open with flame-ink, bathing the chamber in memory-light.
> [Ink That Burns – FULL ACTIVATION]
Your narrative is now anchored. Counteroverwrite attempts will cause echo backlash.
The Mirror flinched.
"You tethered your memory," it whispered.
Erevan raised a hand. "I didn't come to fight you with blades."
"What then?"
"With story."
---
What followed was not battle in the traditional sense.
It was a war of sentences. Of timelines. Of conflicting truths.
The Mirror conjured perfect recollections—flawless stories where Erevan surrendered, where rebels obeyed, where the Choir never existed.
Erevan tore them down.
With each page of the Codex, he answered lie with grief. With loss. With the truth of scars. He didn't overwrite the Mirror's story—he let it sit beside his.
The chamber trembled.
Because even lies cannot silence truth forever.
And the Mirror?
It began to crack.
Lines running through its skin. Not blood. Memory-loss. Narrative errors. Fragmentation.
> [Warning: Mirror construct destabilizing. Primary function compromised.]
The Mirror gasped. "You… rewrote me."
Erevan stepped forward. "No. You wrote yourself wrong. I just remembered right."
The Mirror screamed—then dissolved into pale ink, like a paragraph too tired to keep existing.
---
Aftermath
Erevan stood alone in the chamber, heart still pounding. Yuren's voice finally came through the comline.
"Erevan? Did you… win?"
"No," he said. "I survived. That's enough."
He looked down at the Codex, now glowing softly.
More pages to read. More truths to unbury.
But something had changed.
The Tower no longer had its perfect eraser.
And for the first time in countless timelines…
Erevan's story could be told.
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Author's Note:
Chapter 78 – Mirrorwake – is a confrontation not just with a foe, but with the fear of being forgotten. Of being rewritten. Erevan's battle here wasn't physical—it was about memory as resistance.
10 power stones = 2 chapters.
1 review = 1 bonus chapter drop.
Let's keep this rebellion remembered.
– Dorian Blackthorn
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