She gently placed a hand upon the mirror's cold surface.
The Compass resonated in response, a low hum of recognition passing between artifact and mirror. The forgotten vow hidden within the glass slowly awakened, stirred from whatever ancient sleep had held it captive. One by one, silver runes spread across the mirror's surface, blooming outward from beneath her palm like frost forming in reverse.
Then the mirror opened its eyes.
It did not reflect appearances, as ordinary mirrors always had. Instead, it reflected intentions—the truths beneath the truths people told themselves, the desires they buried, and the promises they had forgotten they once made.
Across the academy, every disciple paused at the exact same instant.
A sword stopped halfway through a training swing.
A conversation died in the middle of a sentence.
A young student froze with one foot raised above the stone pathway.
Each person saw something different.
Private.
Unmistakably their own.
