the timid bride

Chapter 23: The Mirror Hall

Arin stood at the foot of the door Rael called the Mirror Hall. Her hand, covered in a black glove, trembled slightly as she reached for the cold iron handle.

"Are you ready?" Rael asked from behind her.

She didn't look at him. "No. But I don't think that matters."

Rael nodded, though she couldn't see it. "It doesn't."

With a soft groan, the heavy door opened.

The chamber beyond was unlike anything Arin had seen in the castle. It was circular, massive, and completely silent. The walls were lined with mirrors—hundreds of them—tall, thin, warped, twisted, perfectly smooth, some shattered, others veiled.

The air was cold and thick with old magic.

At the center of the room stood a single raised platform, with a golden-framed mirror taller than any man. It pulsed faintly, like it was breathing.

"This is where it begins," Rael said quietly. "And where it ends."

Arin stepped inside.

The moment her foot touched the floor, the mirrors rippled—like water disturbed by a stone.

"What's happening?" she asked, alarm rising.

"They're waking up," he replied. "They sense you."

She swallowed. "And what do they see?"

"Your soul."

Arin turned slowly, her eyes scanning the room. In one mirror, she saw herself as a queen, tall and powerful, flames behind her. In another, she was a corpse bride, her lips blue, her dress torn, eyes staring blankly. Another showed her cradling a child with silver eyes.

She gasped. "Are these visions?"

Rael stepped closer. "Possibilities. Fates. The curse doesn't trap you—it offers you choices. But each one has a cost."

Arin approached the center mirror. "And this one?"

"That mirror shows the original bride," Rael said. "The one who made the pact."

Arin's reflection shimmered—then vanished.

In its place stood a woman with silver hair and eyes like carved ice. Her skin was pale, lips crimson, and a jagged scar ran from her jaw to her throat.

"She was beautiful," Arin whispered.

"She was powerful," Rael corrected.

The woman in the mirror blinked—and then stepped forward, as if the glass were a window, not a wall.

"Arin," the mirror bride said. "We've been waiting for you."

Arin flinched. "You know my name?"

"I know all your names. Every version of you that has ever lived, that ever will live. You are the key. You are the storm. You are the one we left the curse for."

Rael grabbed Arin's arm. "Don't listen to her. She's a remnant. A memory of betrayal."

"I am a warning," the mirror bride said. "He lies."

Arin turned to Rael. "What's she talking about?"

Rael's jaw clenched. "She was the first bride. She betrayed the kingdom to an ancient power in exchange for immortality. But the curse twisted her wish."

The mirror bride laughed, a sound like shattered glass. "That's what *he* believes. The truth is worse."

She turned her gaze fully to Arin.

"They used me. Just like they're using you."

Arin felt her knees weaken. "Why me? Why always a bride?"

"Because the kingdom is built on stolen love," the mirror bride whispered. "A throne forged in sacrifice. Each bride fuels the crown's magic—blood, will, and heart."

Rael's hand fell away from Arin's arm. He looked sick.

"You never told me this," he said.

"I didn't know," Arin replied. "I didn't know any of this."

The mirror bride pressed her hand to the glass. "You have one chance, Arin. Break the mirror. End the line. Free yourself. Free them all."

"But what happens to the kingdom?" Arin asked.

The mirror bride's expression turned dark. "It falls. As it should."

Rael stepped forward. "If you destroy the mirror, you don't just end the curse. You destroy the crown. The land will fracture. War will come."

Arin looked between them.

Truth and power. Lies and peace.

Everything felt heavy. Her heart thundered in her chest.

Then the mirror bride said something that shattered everything.

"He doesn't love you. He *can't.* His soul is bound to the curse."

Rael's face went pale.

Arin turned to him, tears already in her eyes. "Is it true?"

He hesitated—just for a second.

"Yes."

The world tilted.

Arin stumbled back, almost falling, but Rael caught her. She pushed him away.

"You said you loved me," she whispered.

"I do," he said. "In my way."

"Your *way*?" she snapped. "That's not love. That's a chain."

He looked hollow. "I didn't know another way. I was born into this. Trained. Programmed to guide the bride. I didn't choose it. But somewhere along the way, I started to hope."

"Hope for what?"

"That maybe you'd be different," he said. "Maybe you'd save us all."

Arin looked at the mirror again.

The bride inside was fading, her voice growing faint. "You have to choose."

The mirror cracked.

A long jagged line across the center.

Arin took a deep breath.

Then she turned to Rael. "If I destroy it… what happens to *you*?"

He looked down. "I don't know. Maybe I die. Maybe I'm freed. Maybe I become what the first bride became—a memory in the glass."

Arin's hands trembled.

This wasn't about just her anymore. It never was.

"I came here afraid," she said. "Terrified. I let you rule me. I let this castle shape me."

Rael raised his head.

"And now?" he asked.

She reached for the dagger tucked in her boot.

"Now I rule myself."

And with one swift motion—she **struck the mirror.**

The sound echoed like thunder.

The glass shattered—not just in the main mirror, but in all the mirrors around the hall. One by one, they cracked, screamed, twisted, exploded. Light poured from the shards, then darkness, then silence.

Rael collapsed to his knees.

Arin stood in the center of it all—eyes glowing faintly silver, the shards of the curse raining around her like stardust.

The ground shook.

Far away, bells rang. Walls groaned. The castle began to crack at its foundation.

"You broke it," Rael whispered. "You actually broke it."

Arin walked toward him, her movements steady. "You said I was born for this. Maybe you were right."

He looked up at her, grief and pride mingling in his eyes.

"What happens now?"

She offered him her hand.

"We find out."

—

The castle didn't fall.

Not yet.

But something in the air had changed. The servants whispered of visions in the walls. The Queen disappeared that night and was never seen again. Fires lit up on the borderlands, where old enemies stirred.

But Arin didn't flee.

She stayed.

She walked the ruins of the Mirror Hall each morning, barefoot, letting the wind carry the scent of broken magic.

And Rael? He stayed too. Changed. Quieter. Free, maybe. Or hollow.

He didn't touch her again without asking.

Sometimes, they sat in silence, side by side. No chains. No crown. No lies.

And sometimes, he would reach for her hand—and she would let him.

Not because the curse bound them.

But because she chose to.

For now.

And in that choice, she found a new kind of power.

Not the one the throne promised her.

But the kind she had carved herself, from the sharp edge of truth.