By IMERPUS RELUR
--
There was a mirror.
Alone. Untouched. Unframed.
It stood in the center of a void—
A void that listened.
Imer approached.
No reflection.
No echo.
Only presence.
He tilted his head.
Still nothing.
Until—
"Name yourself."
The voice didn't come from the mirror.
It came from behind his heart.
He didn't answer.
He breathed.
And the mirror cracked.
> "You are not your name."
"You are not your face."
"You are what remains when silence forgets to leave."
The glass fell like rain.
Behind the shards, a child stood.
Himself.
Before sin. Before knowing.
The child held out a hand.
Imer took it.
The mirror vanished.