Chapter 18: The Hall of Reflections

When the light faded, Coza found himself standing on unfamiliar ground. The air was sharp and cold, a stark contrast to the heavy heat of the Harbor. He blinked rapidly, his vision adjusting to the faint glow of a vast, cavernous space. The ceiling above stretched high into darkness, while jagged walls of stone and crystalline veins surrounded him. The veins were brighter here, their light no longer pulsing in rhythm but blazing steadily as though alive with purpose.

The circular platform beneath him hummed faintly, its etched symbols dimming as if exhausted by their effort. Coza clutched the sphere tightly, its surface cool but still faintly glowing. He turned slowly, his breath visible in the frigid air.

Edna stood a few feet away, her weapon lowered but still in hand. Her eyes scanned the cavern, sharp and calculating. “Where the hell are we?” she muttered, her voice breaking the eerie silence.

Coza shook his head. “I don’t know. But this place... it feels different.”

“It should,” came a voice from the shadows, low and resonant.

Coza and Edna spun toward the sound, their bodies tense. A figure stepped into the light—tall and cloaked, its form wreathed in a faint, golden aura. Its face was obscured, but its presence was palpable, a weight that pressed down on the air like the onset of a storm.

“You’ve crossed the threshold,” the figure said, its voice echoing strangely. “Few reach this place.”

Edna raised her weapon. “And who exactly are you?”

The figure tilted its head slightly, as though amused. “I am a keeper of what remains. And you, travelers, have come farther than most.”

Coza stepped forward hesitantly. “If you’re the keeper, then you know what’s happening in the Harbor.”

“I do,” the figure replied. “And it is no longer the Harbor you knew. The veins have awakened, the forge has stirred, and the Titan roams freely. The city you left behind is on the verge of becoming something else entirely.”

Coza’s grip on the sphere tightened. “How do we stop it? The Harbor—there are people still there.”

The keeper’s gaze fell on the sphere, its glow intensifying. “The spark you carry is both key and catalyst. Its purpose is to ignite what lies dormant. But once lit, the flame cannot be extinguished.”

“What does that mean?” Edna demanded. “Is there a way to control it or not?”

The keeper stepped closer, its aura casting long shadows against the crystalline walls. “Control is an illusion. The spark chooses its path, but it is you who decides how far it burns.”

Coza’s chest tightened. He thought of the Heralds, the Titan, the chaos consuming the Harbor. The sphere had brought him here, had thrust this weight upon him, but he still felt no closer to understanding what it wanted—or what it would take from him in the end.

“There has to be another way,” he said quietly. “Something to stop it without destroying everything.”

The keeper regarded him for a long moment, its silence heavy. “There is a place deeper within,” it said finally. “A forge older than the Harbor itself. It is there that the veins converge, their power focused and unrestrained. If you wish to shape their flow, you must reach it.”

Edna frowned. “And what happens if he can’t?”

The keeper’s glow dimmed slightly. “Then the Harbor will fall, consumed by the very lifeblood it sought to contain. And with it, the spark will scatter, finding new ground to ignite.”

The keeper gestured toward a jagged opening in the far wall, its edges glowing faintly. “The path to the forge is treacherous. It will test your resolve and your worth. But if you survive, you may find the answers you seek.”

Edna didn’t hesitate. She started toward the opening, her steps steady despite the unease etched on her face. Coza lingered, his gaze fixed on the keeper.

“Why me?” he asked softly. “Why does the spark care what I do?”

The keeper’s voice softened. “Because you carry what others could not. Doubt, hope, fear—all fuel for the flame. You are both its vessel and its mirror. But be warned: the forge will show you what lies beneath.”

Coza swallowed hard, his throat dry. Without another word, he turned and followed Edna into the passageway.

The air grew colder as they descended, the crystalline veins casting an otherworldly glow on the walls. The path twisted and turned, narrowing until they had to stoop to avoid jagged overhangs. The hum of the veins grew louder, a low, resonant sound that vibrated in Coza’s chest.

“This doesn’t feel like a forge,” Edna muttered, her voice tight. “It feels like a tomb.”

Coza didn’t respond. The sphere in his hand pulsed faintly, its rhythm matching the hum of the veins. He could feel the energy around them growing stronger, pressing against his senses like a tide.

The passage opened abruptly into a vast chamber, its floor polished to a mirror-like sheen. The light from the veins reflected endlessly across the surface, creating the illusion of infinite depth. Coza hesitated at the threshold, his reflection staring back at him with a clarity that made his skin crawl.

Edna stepped onto the floor cautiously, her boots leaving no mark on the pristine surface. “This isn’t natural,” she said, her tone wary.

Coza followed her, the sphere growing warmer in his hand. As he moved, the reflections shifted. At first, they mirrored his every movement, but then they began to change. His reflection lingered too long after he’d moved, its expression twisting into something unfamiliar.

“What is this?” he whispered.

The chamber answered with a low rumble, the reflections rippling like water. Figures emerged from the mirrored surface—vague, shadowy shapes that shimmered with the veins’ light. They moved with unsettling grace, their forms constantly shifting, as though they were made of liquid glass.

Edna raised her weapon. “More Heralds?”

“No,” Coza said, his voice trembling. “They’re… something else.”

The figures advanced, their movements synchronized. They didn’t attack, but their presence was suffocating, their forms towering over Coza and Edna like living specters.

Coza clutched the sphere, its light flaring in response. The figures stopped, their forms flickering as the sphere’s energy washed over them. The hum of the veins grew louder, and the chamber trembled.

“You have to do something!” Edna shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Coza closed his eyes, focusing on the sphere. The energy within it was overwhelming, a torrent that threatened to consume him. But he felt a thread of clarity within the storm—a connection to the veins, to the chamber, to the forge waiting beyond.

The sphere flared, its light flooding the chamber. The figures recoiled, their forms dissolving into mist as the energy surged outward. The reflections stilled, their surfaces returning to perfect clarity.

Coza opened his eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The chamber was quiet once more, the hum of the veins steady and calm.

Edna lowered her weapon, her expression a mix of relief and caution. “Whatever that was, you handled it.”

Coza didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on the far end of the chamber, where another passageway awaited. The light from the veins seemed to gather there, pooling like a beacon.

The forge was close. And whatever waited within, Coza knew it would demand everything he had left.