The Mirror’s Shards

The throne room was a mausoleum of silence, the red moon’s last embers fading through the shattered skylight, casting fractured light across the blood-slicked floor. Zelda stood before the broken mirror, its shards scattered like stars fallen to earth, each fragment pulsing with a life of its own. Her Wraith form shimmered, moonlight woven into her skin, her gown a liquid cascade of silver and shadow. Grayson’s heart, still spiked on the dais, had ceased its feeble twitching, but its blood dripped steadily, a metronome counting down to something inevitable. Kael lingered at the throne’s base, his scars stark against his bare chest, his eyes never leaving...