The second mirror vanished in a whisper of static, scattering like sand in zero gravity.
One right. One wrong.
Two chances left.
And no margin for hesitation.
The chamber trembled slightly—not enough to throw anyone off balance, but enough to let them know: the room was watching now.
Lucas stepped back, scanning the arc of remaining mirrors. Eleven left. Each reflection waited in eerie stillness, but that stillness was a lie—he could feel it, crawling under his skin.
These weren't just coded ghosts.
They were designed to provoke.
Tala glanced at him, eyes flicking sharp. "If we guess wrong again—who dies?"
The system didn't answer.
The silence did.
Lucas's jaw tightened. "We won't guess."
"Great," Juno muttered from behind, still shaken from the X that had marked her mirror. "No pressure."
Ava approached the sixth mirror. Her own reflection tilted its head, but only a fraction late—like someone who'd almost caught the timing and fumbled the last note.
