Kiel remembered the surge of energy that consumed him—transforming him into something monstrous, an unstoppable force that had shattered his sense of self. The intense emotions that followed were a chaotic blur—raw anger, fear, and the inevitable panic that came with the loss of control. It was dizzying, a violent contrast to the calm Astra had offered him.
The memory gripped him like a vice, both suffocating and relentless—a cruel reminder of how fragile his grip on reality had become. As his fingers tightened around the sink, Kiel stared into the mirror, but the reflection staring back was no longer his own. It felt foreign—distant, hollow. His breath hitched as doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind.
The power, fear, and anger—all of it surged inside him, threatening to break through. The darker it grew, the more unreachable the calm seemed. His thoughts spiraled, each breath more frantic than the last. "Logical," he repeated in his mind, trying to steady himself, but even that felt like a lie. The darkness—his isolation—was closing in.
The dim, flickering light above cast long, eerie shadows across the sterile bathroom. The scent of soap lingered faintly, mixing with the cold, clinical air. Kiel's hands trembled as he gripped the sink, staring at the shattered reflection, his own eyes lost in the void. Memories bled into the present—faces, voices, words that shouldn't have been there.
"You think you're strong, don't you?" The voice hissed from the mirror, its tone sharp and venomous, twisting Kiel's sense of self. "Look at you—broken. Pretending to be whole."
Kiel clenched his fists, his breath quickening. "I am strong," he signed, each movement sharp, defiant. "I've survived everything thrown at me."
From the corner of his vision, another figure appeared. It wasn't him, but it looked like him—an unsettling copy. Its eyes were pools of black, cold and empty, but beneath them, a faint shimmer of blue glowed like buried embers.
"Survived?" it mocked, its voice low and twisted. "Or are you just barely scraping by? You've lost your voice, Kiel. You're useless."
Kiel shook his head, frustration boiling in his chest. "I'm not useless," he signed, his hands trembling, but with each forceful motion, his conviction faltered. "I can still fight. I can still... make a difference."
The doppelgänger's grin stretched wider, cruel and mocking. Its black eyes flickered with Kiel's doubt, taunting him with the image of failure.
"You're a ghost," it whispered, its voice cold as ice. "Pretending you still matter. But deep down, you know the truth, don't you?"
The reflection leaned closer, the space between them shrinking, until Kiel could feel its coldness seeping into his skin. The red glow under its black eyes intensified—unmistakable now. "Or are you just lying to yourself? How long can you keep running before you break?"
"You can't run forever," it continued, its voice calm, too calm. "Sooner or later, they will find you."
"And hurt you again." The first voice joined in, the words sinking deep like a blade.
Kiel's breath caught. The words cut through him, wounding deeper than anything physical. His hands moved in frantic desperation, signing, "Stop it. Please, just stop."
The voices surged, a cruel chorus of doubt and self-loathing. "You're weak. You're broken." They echoed, reverberating in the confines of his mind until they seemed to drown out everything else. "You're nothing. You're just a shadow."
"Leave me alone, you two!" Kiel signed frantically, his hands shaking, desperate.
"Only this time, they'll hurt her too," the doppelgänger said calmly, its tone too knowing, its expression cold. "And it will be all your fault for failing to protect her."
The reflection leaned in even closer, its voice a cold whisper in Kiel's ear. "You know what you have to do."
Kiel's hands flew up, his desperation tangible. "No! No! I won't let you. I'm still here. I'm still fighting," he signed fiercely, shaking with the effort to block them out.
But the mirror's reflection exploded into a deafening chorus of laughter and jeers, a mocking cacophony that rattled his resolve.
"You think you can silence us? You think you can keep me at bay?"
Kiel's hands shook uncontrollably as he signed, "Stop. Leave me alone."
"Why should I?" The reflection sneered, its voice a venomous drip. "You can't even speak for yourself. You're a failure."
The voices rose, deafening and relentless. Kiel's resolve cracked under the weight of their words, the relentless pressure mounting, until he couldn't take it any longer. With a roar of raw frustration, he hurled his fist at the mirror. It shattered violently, the glass cascading around him like jagged rain. His blood mixed with the shards, but the pain—sharp, immediate—was a welcome distraction from the ceaseless torment in his mind.
"Kiel!"
The bathroom door slammed open, and Astra rushed in, her eyes wide with shock and fear. "What happened?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the chaos that swirled around her.
Behind her, Kiki and Grandma Kaname hurried in, their expressions tense with concern.
Kiel's wild, bloodshot eyes met hers, and for a moment, the storm inside him quieted. He signed with shaky, desperate movements, "Astra, I… I can't…"
She dropped to her knees beside him, her touch warm against his skin. "It's okay," she said gently, her voice soft but grounding. "I'm here."
Kiel signed, "They won't stop. They keep telling me I'm useless. That I can't save anyone. Not even you."
Astra's eyes softened with empathy, and she placed both hands firmly on his shoulders. "Kiel, those voices are your fears and doubts. They don't define you. You're stronger than you know."
Kiel's hands trembled as he signed, "Earlier, you asked if it was an admission of fear. I'm afraid, Astra. Afraid that they're right."
"They're not," she insisted, her voice unwavering. "You've been through so much, and you're still here. That's strength. That's resilience."
Kiel took a shaky breath, his body slowly relaxing. "I don't know if I can keep fighting," he signed, his movements slower now, weighed down by the exhaustion of the battle inside him.
"You don't have to do it alone," Astra said, her voice soft, soothing. "We'll face this together. And I'll be here, every step of the way. I promise."
Kiel's gaze shifted to the fractured mirror, the shards reflecting pieces of his face—broken, distorted, but still there. With a faint sigh, he signed, "Together."
A simple word, but it felt like a lifeline, a fragile thread of hope.
With Astra beside him, the storm in his chest calmed, even if only for a moment. The struggle wasn't over, but for now, he wasn't alone.