Miralen placed her hand on the book and opened it.
A brilliant light burst forth, swallowing both her and Caedmon.
Miralen instinctively covered her eyes, her heart pounding as the world dissolved around her.
When the light faded, they were no longer anywhere that belonged to reality— yet it did not feel like a dream either.
Slowly, Miralen lowered her hands.
Her breath caught.
They were standing upon water— perfectly still, glass— like— yet it held their weight as though it were solid ground. There was no horizon, no edge to the world. Only endless reflections stretching into infinity.
Above them, a galaxy loomed— far away and impossibly close at the same time. A pale spiral of blue and gold, its burning core gazed back like an open eye, ancient and aware.
Straight golden lines floated through the air— countless, unbending— each one drawn toward the heart of the galaxy, as if stitched into time itself.
Miralen stood frozen, her breath shallow.
She looked down.
Her reflection stared back at her— clear, solid, undeniably real. Then she glanced beside her.
Caedmon stood there, calm and unmoving.
But when she looked back at the surface below— there was no second reflection.
No shadow.
No trace of him at all.
Her chest tightened.
The golden threads hummed softly, a vibration she felt deep within her bones. Time clung to them— past upon past— each strand drifting like a silent musical wave.
"This place..." Miralen whispered. "It doesn't end, does it?"
"No," Caedmon replied quietly. "It doesn't."
She stood still for a moment, trying to process everything before her. "What is this place?" she asked, voice unsteady. "Is— is it even real? How can a galaxy exist here?"
"This is the core of the cathedral," Caedmon said, his gaze fixed ahead. "That galaxy is the Galaxy of the Past. And this place..." he paused. "...is called the Mirror of the Past."
Miralen turned to him. "Does that mean the eras I'll enter are inside that galaxy?"
"Yes," he answered. "And those golden lines will guide you to the correct time— and the correct era."
Miralen nodded slowly, understanding settling in. Then she frowned.
"Hey... where's the book?"
Caedmon glanced at her.
"It's here. But you need to do something to call it."
"Do something?" she tilted her head. "Like what?"
"Join your hands," he said, his tone firm. "Then open them like a book."
Miralen hesitated only a moment before bringing her palms together.
As she opened them— light bloomed between her hands. The book appeared instantly, already open, pages flipping rapidly on their own before coming to a sudden stop.
Miralen stared, stunned. She looked at Caedmon, then back at the book. "Wow... that was amazing."
Caedmon nodded.
"You can summon it anytime— anywhere within the cathedral."
"Outside too?" she asked quickly, cutting him off.
Caedmon looked at her, clearly done with her interruptions. "No. Not outside. And if you want it to disappear, just close it."
"Okay," Miralen said softly, a small smile forming.
She tried to read the page— then frowned.
"...It's still written in reverse." She looked up at Caedmon. "Can you bring my bag here?"
"You can do that too," he replied. "Touch the water and think about it."
Miralen blinked.
Then she crouched, placing her hand against the glass— like surface beneath her feet, focusing on her bag.
The water rippled.
Slowly, the bag emerged from below, just enough for her to grab it. She pulled it free and stood back up, clutching it tightly.
Miralen opened her bag, then paused.
The notebook wasn't inside.
She frowned, realizing she must have taken it out earlier while reversing the rules. Quickly, she crouched down and placed her hand on the surface beneath her feet, focusing on the notebook.
The spiral notebook emerged slowly, just enough for her to grab it. She pulled it out with relief. Thankfully, the pencil was still tucked between its pages.
But another problem followed immediately.
Miralen glanced at Caedmon.
"Hey... do you have a book stand or something?" she asked hopefully. "I can't write like this. My hands are already full."
Caedmon clapped his hands once.
The book lifted itself into the air, floating steadily in front of Miralen.
"Can you write now?" he asked, raising a brow.
"Yes, thank you," she replied with a small smile.
Miralen began copying the lines carefully into her notebook, her movements slow and precise. She didn't want to make even the smallest mistake.
Caedmon remained silent, simply watching her.
After a few minutes, she finished writing the paragraph.
Holding the notebook close, she read it in a quiet whisper.
"The Era of 1800, Verbena Evander never realized the consequences and ended up lost forever in the cathedral. She made the mistake of not freeing the souls before her time ended.
When the soul of Ender Dame followed behind the soul of Verbena Evander after five years into the cathedral.
He lost himself too.
He broke the law of Time and was punished for his mistake."
Miralen stared ahead, unmoving. Then she looked back down at her notebook and slowly closed it. "So... this is about two souls together?" she muttered.
"No," Caedmon replied calmly. His expression remained neutral. "It's about two souls at different times. Didn't you read it properly? It says after five years."
Miralen narrowed her eyes at him. "You've met them, haven't you?"
For a brief moment, Caedmon looked surprised-but the feeling vanished just as quickly. "Yes," he admitted. "I have. But that doesn't mean I'll help you."
Miralen frowned. "You know what? You're useful... and useless at the same time," she said, placing a hand on her waist.
"I know," Caedmon replied evenly. "That's why I won't help you."
She rolled her eyes. "So what do I do now?"
Caedmon gestured toward the golden lines stretching behind her. "You go back to the Era. One of those golden lines will take you to the correct time."
Miralen turned to look at them, then back at him. "How will I know which one is the right one?"
"Go near them," he instructed. "Place your hand above a line— don't touch it. The time written on it will appear. The correct one will have ticking clock hands."
Miralen nodded slowly, understanding.
She put her notebook back into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Then she stepped toward the golden lines, staring at the countless threads stretching endlessly toward the galaxy.
"Why does this feel so dangerous?" she muttered. "Like I'm choosing cursed noodles."
She hovered her hand over the first line.
Nothing happened.
Miralen frowned and glanced back at Caedmon. "Are you sure these lines won't send me to the age of dinosaurs?"
Caedmon didn't respond. He only blinked.
Miralen sighed. "Great. Very reassuring."
She stepped toward another line and raised her hand, hovering it just above the glow. Symbols appeared—1745— but there were no ticking clock hands.
"Nope. Not this one." She pulled her hand back quickly. "That's too early. I don't even like history, but here I am."
She tried another line.
1897.
Still no ticking.
Miralen groaned softly. "Why am I not getting the correct time?"
She exhaled, steadying herself, and approached another line.
As her hand hovered above it, glowing symbols appeared—1845— and this time, faint clock hands materialized above the numbers, ticking slowly.
Her eyes widened. "...This is the one."
She pulled her hand back and stared at the line for a moment before glancing toward Caedmon.
"Hey, Caedmon. I think this is it," she said, pointing at the golden thread.
Caedmon stepped closer and examined the line. He nodded, then looked at her. "Now you have to go to that time and survive. Remember— you only have three months."
Miralen nodded. "I understand. But... you're not coming?" she asked.
"No. I can't," he replied calmly.
"But what if I need your help?" Her voice wavered, worry creeping in.
"You can talk to me if you want," he said.
Miralen blinked. "How?"
"Open the rule book and write what you want to say. I'll reply."
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay then..." Her voice softened. "How do I go?"
"Hold the line and close your eyes," he said, a faint smile touching his lips.
Miralen nodded and reached out, gripping the golden thread.
A sudden burst of blinding light swallowed her whole.
And with that—
(The end of chapter 11)