Chapter 34: The Throne Beyond Mirrors

The air hung heavy with anticipation, vibrating with a tension that Caelum could feel in his chest. The Hall of Reflections had shattered and rebuilt itself countless times since his arrival, but now it stood frozen, a crystalline silence pervading every corner. Dante—no, Elias—leaned against one of the mirrored columns, his expression unreadable yet simmering with an almost palpable intensity.

The throne still glimmered in the center of the hall, fractured yet whole, its jagged surfaces refracting light into shapes that seemed almost alive. Each shard held a reflection of Caelum’s past, moments he had hidden even from himself. They shimmered and flickered as though mocking him with their existence.

Elias broke the silence, his voice a knife slicing through the stillness.
“Do you know why the throne fractures every time you approach it?”

Caelum, his gaze fixed on the glowing core of the throne, shook his head. “Because it’s a lie, just like everything else here.”

Elias stepped forward, his movements deliberate, his presence an oppressive force. “No, it’s because you are a lie. Every decision you’ve made, every path you’ve walked—it’s been a labyrinth of avoidance. You’ve built walls within walls, thinking they’d protect you. But they’ve only made you hollow.”

The accusation struck deep, but Caelum refused to flinch. Instead, he turned to face Elias, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. “And what about you? Are you just another wall? Another voice trying to keep me from finding the truth?”

Elias laughed, a sound both genuine and cutting. “I’m not a wall, Caelum. I’m the shadow cast by your light. The part of you you’ve tried to excise but never could.”

The mirrored walls began to ripple, each surface displaying a fragment of a different life. In one, Caelum stood on a hill under a blood-red sky, holding a mask that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. In another, he sat alone in a room filled with books, his hands trembling as he turned page after page.

The images shifted too quickly to grasp, but their meaning was clear: potential. Each one a version of Caelum that could have been, should have been, or might still be.

Elias walked past one of the mirrors, his reflection remaining still even as he moved. “You see it, don’t you? Every possibility you’ve ignored, every version of yourself you’ve denied. That’s what this mansion is—a mausoleum of your choices.”

Caelum’s fists clenched at his sides. “And the throne? What does it represent?”

Elias stopped, his expression softening for the first time. “It’s not what you think. The throne isn’t an answer. It’s a question. One you’re not ready to ask.”

The room trembled, the ground beneath them cracking open to reveal a chasm of swirling light and shadow. From the depths emerged voices—whispered, pleading, accusing.

“Are you ready to face them?” Elias asked, his tone almost gentle.

Caelum approached the edge of the chasm, his reflection shifting erratically in the fractured mirrors. The voices grew louder, overlapping until they became a cacophony. One voice stood out above the rest, soft yet insistent.

“Why do you run, Caelum?”

He froze, recognizing the voice. It was his own, but younger, unburdened by the weight he now carried.

“I’m not running,” he whispered, though the words felt hollow even to him.

Elias stepped beside him, his gaze fixed on the swirling abyss. “You’ve been running your entire life. From pain, from truth, from yourself. The throne isn’t about power or control—it’s about acceptance. If you sit on it, you’ll face everything you’ve buried. Every fear, every failure, every part of you you’ve tried to forget.”

Caelum turned to Elias, his eyes burning with defiance. “And if I don’t?”

Elias smiled, a sad, knowing expression. “Then you’ll stay here. Forever. A ghost in a house of mirrors.”

The air grew colder as Caelum stepped closer to the throne. The light within it pulsed, each beat resonating with his own heartbeat. Elias watched silently, his form flickering like a dying flame.

“You think this is about me, don’t you?” Caelum said, his voice rising. “That I’m afraid of you, of what you represent. But you’re wrong.”

He turned to face Elias fully, his gaze unwavering. “You’re not my shadow. You’re my fear. And I’m done letting you control me.”

Elias’s form solidified, his expression hardening. “Bold words. But words mean nothing here. Show me you’re more than that.”

The mirrors shattered again, shards flying through the air like deadly projectiles. Caelum raised his arm instinctively, but the shards passed through him, embedding themselves in the throne.

The light intensified, blinding and all-consuming. Elias’s voice echoed through the chaos, filled with equal parts challenge and admiration. “Prove it, Caelum. Prove you can be more than the sum of your fears.”

Caelum reached for the throne, his fingers grazing the light. It surged toward him, enveloping him in a cascade of memories and emotions. He saw his life laid bare—the triumphs, the failures, the moments that defined him and the ones he wished to forget.

Elias’s voice cut through the storm. “This is your final choice, Caelum. To see yourself as you truly are—or to remain blind forever.”

With a final surge of resolve, Caelum stepped into the light. It consumed him, burning away the layers of fear and doubt that had bound him for so long.

When the light faded, he stood alone in the hall. The mirrors were gone, replaced by endless windows opening onto vast, unknowable landscapes. The throne was no longer fractured but whole, its surface smooth and gleaming like polished obsidian.

Elias was gone, his voice reduced to a whisper at the back of Caelum’s mind. “Well done.”

Caelum sat on the throne, not as a conqueror, but as a man finally at peace with himself. The mansion shifted around him, no longer a labyrinth of fear but a realm of endless possibility.

“This isn’t the end,” he said softly, a faint smile on his lips. “It’s only the beginning.”

The windows flared with light, and the mansion was breathing, alive and infinite.