Chapter 14

​“A true mirror does not show a face. It shows who you could have become if you hadn’t been afraid.”

​The light in the corridor pulsed like a heartbeat — someone else’s, not ours. Thomas and I walked in silence, each of us with lips pressed tight, as if a single word could shatter the fragile equilibrium.

​The water reached our chests. It was murky, warm, and within it trembled the glints of the walls, which seemed to live a life of their own. Shadows slithered beneath the surface — not fish, not seaweed. Perhaps they were thoughts. Or regrets.

​I could feel the labyrinth becoming… closer with every passing minute. It was no longer just a space. It was almost — skin. Almost — inside us.

​And there it was — the next entrance.

​The door was made of a mirror, absolutely smooth. On it was an inscription:

​“You will enter only into yourself.”

​”What the hell…” Thomas touched the glass. His hand vanished.

​We exchanged a look. He nodded. I went in first.

​I found myself in a dry, illuminated hall. Mirrors were everywhere. Small, large, warped, covered in cracks. In each one was my reflection. But not just one. There were dozens of them. And all of them — different.

​In one — me with short hair, a piercing, and the gaze of a fighter.

In another — haggard, with extinguished eyes.

In a third — the coach version, with a rigid stride, wearing a whistle and a team jersey.

In a fourth — a girl of about seven, with massive eyes. Crying.

​”Is this… all me?” I whispered.

​In the center of the room stood a mirror. A real one. The only one without distortions. On it was an inscription:

​“You can become only one. Choose.”

​And then the mirror shuddered. Out of it stepped me. In the fullest sense. Flesh, skin, movement.

​”Don’t choose me,” my double said. “I am who you will become if you win. But in doing so — you will lose yourself.”

​”Who are you?”

​”The one who isn’t afraid. The one who doesn’t feel. Your armor.”

​We stood opposite each other. Me and her. The silence was dense.

​”If you don’t choose me,” the double said, “you will lose. But you will remain yourself. Decide.”

​I remained silent for a long time. Then I approached the mirror and smashed it with my fist.

​The shards fell into the water. The double vanished.

​A voice from behind my back:

“You didn’t choose?”

​”I chose not to choose,” I said. “That was the choice.”

​Thomas’s room.

​He stood in the middle of a hall lined with mirrored tiles. Reflections multiplied, breathed, watched. They laughed. Smiled. Frowned. One of the Thomases — with vacant eyes — whispered:

“Weakling.”

“Too late.”

“She’s better than you.”

“Always was.”

​He closed his eyes. And when he opened them — he was standing before himself. The one who hadn’t run away. The one who had stood up against his father. The one who hadn’t become a jokester — but a fighter.

​”You aren’t me,” Thomas said. “But you could have been me.”

​”Yes,” the double said. “But you chose fear. Now — choose again.”

​Thomas walked up and embraced him. The reflection turned into steam. The mirrors — went dark.

​He walked through the hall — free.

​Thomas and I met in a new corridor. On the floor was an inscription:

​“The labyrinth is rewritten. Two is already a different path.”

​We turned around — and for the first time, saw one of the walls… collapsing. Water was rapidly flooding the space, but instead of panic, there was silence. Almost a sense of peace.

​And suddenly — a voice. Muffled, sounding either electronic or from deep within:

“One of you has passed. One has chosen. One has broken the mirror.”

“Only the final thing remains. Pass through — or stay. Both of you cannot.”

​Another choice.

​Thomas and I stood waist-deep in the water. Above us, two doors opened.

​On one was my name.

On the other was his.

​Both glowed with a soft light. But they wouldn’t open if we stayed together.

​”Well?” he asked.

​”I think… it’s another deception,” I whispered. “Or a trap. Or the truth. It doesn’t matter.”

​”Then what are we going to do?”

​I looked into his eyes.

“Let’s try disobeying.”

​And we took a step. Not toward the doors. But — to the side, into the darkness. Into a third corridor that hadn’t been there before.

​The walls pulsed. The labyrinth, it seemed, was surprised. It hadn’t expected this.

​That was exactly the right move.