CHAPTER 3: THE SHADOW NAMED KAEL
Room 13 had no electricity.
No windows. No voices. No time.
Just him—and the mirror.
Kael Min sat cross-legged on the cold tile floor, the fingers of one hand trailing ink-black shadow into a spiral. It slithered and writhed in rhythm with his heartbeat. A drop of sweat ran down his temple, though the room was colder than death. The air clung to him like breath held too long.
The mirror across from him was cracked—fractured at angles not by force, but by pressure. Pressure from within.
From the thing that lived behind it.
"I'm fine," Kael whispered.
The shadow laughed.
It didn't speak in words, not anymore. It used emotion like a scalpel—pain, longing, regret. That day's emotion was disappointment.
Kael stared into the glass. His reflection blinked—half a second too late.
He closed his eyes. Tried to breathe.
"One more day," he muttered. "Just one more day to be normal."
The room pulsed.
Somewhere far away, the Thread shifted.
The school was abuzz with the usual drone of half-interested voices and rubber soles squeaking on linoleum. No one noticed Kael as he walked the hall. They never did. It wasn't magic—it was deliberate practice. Precision-crafted invisibility.
He passed Jin-sook, the student council president, and she looked through him like he was mist. Even the teachers had begun to skip over his name during attendance. He preferred it that way.
Because the last time someone looked directly at him…
He stopped remembering.
"Kael."
His name. Spoken softly. Carefully. It was a voice he didn't recognize.
He turned.
A girl stood a few paces back. Unremarkable in every physical way—except for her eyes. They glowed faintly. Blue-white. Like they didn't belong in this realm.
She smiled. "Do you know what you are?"
Kael took a step back. The hallway emptied. No footsteps. No breath.
The world held still.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The girl didn't answer.
Instead, she raised her hand. Between her fingers, a single thread shimmered—thin, silver, and vibrating like it had a soul.
"Threadbearer," she said, and vanished.
The world crashed back. Students jostled past him. Teachers called out lessons. A basketball thudded into the gym floor.
Kael leaned against the wall, heart racing.
Something had changed.
Back in Room 13, Kael closed the door behind him and slid the bolt.
The mirror was different.
Now, it showed not just him—but versions. Multiples. A thousand Kaels reflected through fragments, each one subtly altered. One with blood on his hands. Another in chains. A third with wings. A fourth, smiling.
He had never seen himself smile.
The shadow behind the mirror stirred. It rippled. Then whispered.
"They see you now."
Kael fell to his knees.
"What does it mean?"
The mirror bled. Not blood—ink. It poured down its surface in runes. One word repeated:
AWAKENING
In the Realm of the Abyss, far below mortal soil, a figure emerged from slumber.
Her name was Mother of Glass, and she had waited for this.
"Another awakens," she hissed. Her tongue was a ribbon of smoke. Her breath, frost. Around her, broken angels hung from chains of moonlight.
A servant approached—faceless, for she had eaten his identity centuries ago.
"Should we prepare the Spire?" he asked.
"No," she said. "We prepare the Harrowing."
Back on the Mortal Plane, Kael returned home.
His apartment was empty. As always.
His mother had left when he was young. His father… remained physically, but not spiritually. The man lived in a bottle. Sometimes, he emerged to scream. Rarely, to weep. Never to hold.
Kael dropped his bag by the door and went to his room. The walls were covered in newspaper clippings—missing students, odd weather, unexplained lights.
He didn't know why he collected them. Only that they made him feel… less alone.
He touched one headline:
"Boy Vanishes from Locked Room—Only Black Stains Remain."
He had been there. It was the first time he lost control.
That night, the dream returned.
Not a dream. A memory. From a timeline not his own.
Kael walked a corridor of mirrors. Each reflected a life he never lived. A mother who stayed. A friend who fought for him. A version of himself who learned to dance. To laugh.
And then—at the end—stood a throne made of broken reflections.
A voice boomed.
"Choose."
Kael reached out.
A hand grabbed his wrist.
It was his shadow.
"You're not ready," it said.
Kael woke gasping. Ink seeped from his eyes like tears.
He ran to the bathroom. Splashed water. Looked up.
The mirror didn't show him.
It showed her.
The girl from the hallway.
She smiled again.
"My name is Eris," she said. "I'm here to help you break."
The mirror shattered.
In the Cathedral of Truth, Elaris felt the wave ripple through the Thread.
"Another," she whispered.
A shadow in the Rift had awakened.
The world would never be the same.