Do you see what I see

The descent into the crystal planet was unlike any other. From orbit, the world gleamed like a flawless gemstone, its surface a lattice of reflective plains and jagged crystalline spires that caught the starlight and fractured it into endless rainbows. But as the ship pierced the atmosphere, the beauty gave way to something unsettling. The air was thin, sterile, and unnaturally still. There was no dust, no wind, no sound. The ground below was polished smooth, as though the entire planet had been scrubbed clean of life.

They landed on a plateau of translucent quartz, the ship’s landing struts squealing against the glassy surface. Tanuki stepped out first, his boots clicking against the crystal. The sound echoed far too loudly, bouncing back at him from every direction. Atlas followed, his hammer slung across his back, his expression wary. “This place is too clean. Like a museum no one’s allowed to touch.” NV scanned the horizon, her gauntlet glowing faintly. “Or a tomb.”

They moved cautiously across the plateau, the crystalline ground reflecting their movements in distorted fragments. The silence pressed in on them, broken only by the sound of their own breathing. Then, from the shadows of the spires, the creatures appeared.

They were tall and thin, their bodies faceted like cut glass, their movements smooth and deliberate. They did not speak, did not attack. They simply stood, their faces blank mirrors that caught the light and reflected it back. At first, Tanuki thought they were harmless. But then he saw what the mirrors reflected.

Not his face. Not the landscape. Memories.

One creature’s face shimmered, and he saw himself as a child, running through the streets of his old neighborhood. Another reflected the earthquake, the ground splitting, buildings collapsing, screams filling the air. He staggered back, his chest tightening. The reflections shifted again, and this time he saw her. His sister. Her face clear and bright, smiling at him the way she used to when she teased him for bringing home shiny trinkets.

The sight hit him like a blade. His breath caught, his vision blurred. He stumbled forward, reaching out as though he could touch her, but the mirror shifted, and her face was gone. In its place was the moment he had found the box in his apartment, the necklace inside, the crushing weight of grief he had buried for years.

“No,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Stop.”

The creatures tilted their heads, their mirrored faces rippling with more memories. His sister laughing. His sister crying. His sister getting mad at him for getting in trouble at school. The images overlapped, relentless.

Tanuki screamed, a raw, guttural sound that tore from his chest. He lashed out with his daggers, striking at the mirrors, but the creatures did not fight back. They simply stood, reflecting his pain back at him. Atlas reached for him, alarmed. “Tanuki, wait! They’re not attacking!” NV’s voice was sharper, urgent. “You’re losing it. Pull back!”

But he couldn’t. The memories were too much. His hands shook, his vision swam, and all he could see was her face. He turned and ran, his boots pounding against the crystal, his breath ragged. He didn’t hear Atlas calling after him, didn’t see NV moving to follow. He just ran, deeper into the crystalline labyrinth, until their voices faded and he was alone.

He collapsed at last in a hollow between spires, his chest heaving, his daggers clattering to the ground. He pressed his hands to his face, but the memories wouldn’t stop. They burned behind his eyes, relentless, merciless. He wanted to tear them out, to silence them, but he couldn’t.

And then he heard her voice.

“Tanuki.”

He looked up, and Celeste was there. She stood at the edge of the hollow, her cloak blending with the crystalline light, her jade eyes soft but steady. She didn’t move closer, didn’t reach for him. She simply watched, her presence calm against the storm inside him.

“You saw her,” she said quietly, “The creatures here… they’re mirrors, but to the inside of your soul.”

His throat tightened.

Celeste tilted her head, her voice gentle. “You carry her with you. Always.”

He shook his head violently. “No. I buried it. I buried her. I can’t…” His voice broke, and he pressed his fists against his temples. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m completely empty inside and I don’t know what to do about it anymore.”

Celeste stepped closer, her movements slow, deliberate. She knelt across from him, the crystalline ground glowing faintly beneath her. “You don’t have to fight it. Not here. Not now. Just… let yourself feel it. Allow yourself to feel it for once.”

He wanted to scream at her, to tell her she didn’t understand, but the words caught in his throat. The memories pressed harder, and for the first time in years, he let them. He let himself see her face, hear her laughter, feel the weight of her absence. The pain was unbearable, but it was real, as real in this world as the one he wakes up to.

Celeste reached into her cloak and pulled out a small crystal shard. She set it between them, and it flared with soft light, casting warmth into the hollow. “Stay here, just for a while,” she said. “Rest. You don’t have to run anymore.”

The light flickered like a campfire, though there was no heat, no flame. Tanuki sat across from her, his body trembling, his eyes burning. He didn’t speak, and neither did she. They simply sat in silence, the glow of the shard between them, the memories still raw but no longer crushing him alone.

For the first time since the earthquake, he allowed himself to grieve. And Celeste stayed with him, her presence steady, her silence more comfort than any words could ever give.

When dawn broke across the crystal horizon, Tanuki was still there, the shard’s light dimming. Celeste rose, her cloak catching the pale glow. She looked down at him, her voice soft. “You can’t change the past. But you can choose what you carry forward.”

And then she was gone, dissolving into the crystalline light, leaving only the faint warmth of the shard behind.

Tanuki sat in the silence, his chest hollow but lighter. He knew Atlas and NV would be searching for him, worried, maybe angry. He rose slowly, his legs unsteady, and began to walk back toward the plateau where Atlas and NV were waiting. But before he reached them, he stopped.

One of the mirror‑faced beings stood in his path. It was motionless, its body faceted like glass, its face a perfect, gleaming surface. As he drew closer, the reflection shifted. His sister’s face appeared again, clear and bright, her smile exactly as he remembered it. For a moment, his breath caught, the ache threatening to tear him open all over again.

But this time, he didn’t recoil. He didn’t scream. He stepped forward, his hands trembling, and wrapped his arms around the creature. The mirrored surface was cold against his cheek, unyielding, but he held on anyway. He closed his eyes, letting the memory wash over him, not as a wound but as something he could carry.

The being shuddered beneath his embrace. Cracks spread across its mirrored face, light spilling through the fractures. With a sound like breaking glass, it shattered in his arms, dissolving into shards of crystal that scattered across the ground. When the light faded, only a single fragment remained, pulsing faintly with energy.

His HUD identified it: Aegis Glass. Rare armor material. Said to shield the bearer not from blades, but from the weight of memory.

Tanuki picked it up carefully, the glow reflecting in his eyes. For the first time, he felt not crushed by his sister’s memory, but steadied by it. He slipped the fragment into his inventory, the quest notification flashing complete.

When he returned to the plateau, Atlas and NV were waiting. They saw the change in him immediately, the steadiness in his step, the quiet resolve in his eyes. He didn’t explain what had happened. He didn’t need to. The Aegis Glass pulsed faintly in his pack, proof enough that he had faced the mirror and chosen not to run.

Together, the three of them turned toward the ship. The crystal planet stretched silent and endless behind them, but Tanuki no longer felt its weight pressing down. He carried something different now. Not just another shard, but a piece of himself he thought he had lost.