The winter he never left

Chapter 12: The Mirror Beneath Ash and Bone

The journey to the first temple was more than a physical trek—it was a descent into a past the world had buried. As Seorin, Ha-joon, and Selah left the palace under the cloak of night, the roads ahead twisted like the roots of an ancient tree. The landscape around them seemed to age the further they traveled. What began as stone-paved paths gave way to forgotten forest trails, where even the moonlight seemed hesitant to linger.

The silence was oppressive.

Seorin rode at the front, her eyes fixed ahead. She hadn't spoken much since the dream, but every movement she made carried purpose. The vision of Jin haunted her—his hollow eyes, his warning. She could still feel the weight of his words pressing against her ribs: Beware the mirror. It shows more than truth.

Beside her, Ha-joon rode quietly. Though his blade remained sheathed, he was tense, like a coil ready to spring. She had never asked him why he came, and he never offered an answer. But Seorin suspected that whatever he hoped to find in the mirror, it frightened him more than death.

Selah trailed behind them, eyes darting to the trees. "The woods are remembering," she muttered.

Seorin turned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"This place was once sacred," Selah said, her voice low. "But when the temple fell, the forest sealed it in grief. We're not just walking through land—we're walking through memory."

Seorin said nothing. But deep in her chest, something stirred.

---

The Temple Ruins

They arrived at dusk. The temple ruins were little more than scattered stone and tangled roots, half-swallowed by time. But there was power here. It pulsed faintly beneath their feet, in the hush of the wind, in the way the trees leaned inward—as if guarding something.

Selah knelt beside a broken pillar and whispered a prayer. Ha-joon scanned the surroundings, eyes sharp.

Seorin moved forward, drawn to a moss-covered archway. Her fingers brushed the stone—and the ground trembled.

The moss peeled away, revealing ancient script. Words in a language older than any court record.

"It's here," she breathed.

With Selah and Ha-joon at her side, she stepped through the arch. Beyond it lay a spiral staircase descending into the earth. The air grew colder with each step, and soon even the sounds of the forest disappeared. Only their breaths and footsteps remained.

At the bottom, they reached a stone door sealed by a mural. It depicted a woman standing before a mirror—her reflection showing not her face, but a monstrous form.

Seorin reached for the door. It opened with a groan.

---

The Mirror Chamber

The chamber was circular, its walls lined with unlit torches. In the center stood the mirror.

It wasn't grand. It wasn't gilded. It was simple—tall, oval, framed in dark wood. Its surface shimmered like still water, rippling faintly as they approached.

Ha-joon inhaled sharply. "It's... cold."

Selah nodded. "The mirror feeds on hidden truths. It reflects the soul—not the body. Whatever you see... you can't unsee."

Seorin stepped forward. "I have to know."

The moment her fingers touched the frame, the world vanished.

---

Inside the Mirror

Seorin stood alone in a version of the palace that was not her own. The halls were warped, stained with ash. Portraits of faceless royals lined the walls. A child's laughter echoed through the corridors, high and broken.

She turned—and saw herself.

Not as she was, but younger. Innocent. Before the betrayals, before the blood. The child ran down the hall, chasing something invisible.

Seorin followed.

The girl stopped at a room and pointed. "He's here. He always cries when I leave."

Seorin stepped inside. The room was dark.

Then—

Chains.

A boy bound to the floor. Skin torn. Eyes hollow.

Eun-woo.

He looked up at her, but his gaze was empty. "You watched," he whispered. "You watched them chain me. And you left."

Seorin stumbled back. "I didn't know—"

The child Seorin turned. "You did. You always did."

The scene shattered like glass.

---

Back in the Chamber

Seorin collapsed to her knees. Selah rushed to her, catching her just in time.

Ha-joon stood frozen, staring into the mirror. He had seen something too. Though he hadn't touched it, the mirror had shown him his own reflection—smeared in blood, holding a crown he never wanted.

Seorin looked up at Selah. Her voice was barely a whisper. "It was me. I let them hurt him. I closed my eyes. I believed the lies."

Selah's eyes softened. "Then you know what must come next."

Seorin stood.

She looked at the mirror, and this time it showed nothing.

Because she no longer feared the truth.

---

Aboveground

They emerged as dawn broke. The forest had grown still. No birds. No wind.

Ha-joon walked ahead, silent. Selah lingered behind, eyes wary.

Seorin looked to the horizon.

A storm was coming.

And now, she was ready for it.

Because the mirror had not just revealed the past.

It had shown her what she must become.