The morning mist clung to the stone path like a memory that refused to fade. Daelen walked alone, his steps measured, the distant call of the mountain winds brushing past him like whispers he couldn't quite understand. The air was colder today—not just in temperature, but in feeling. As though the world itself had stilled to watch him.
He had woken before dawn, again.
Ever since the Crimson Trial, his dreams had grown stranger. They weren't nightmares—no blood, no beasts—but they disturbed him more than either. Each night, he saw places that didn't belong to this world: iron towers that scraped the clouds, endless roads lined with machines, voices calling his name in a language no one here spoke.
But this morning, it hadn't been a dream.
He remembered a name.
Not his.
Not Daelen.
"Rai..."
The word fell from his lips like a foreign object, sharp and wrong. He hadn't meant to say it. It felt pulled from his chest, from somewhere deeper than thought. When he'd awoken, the name lingered—not as a memory, but as a fracture. A crack in his being.
He shook his head and tried to focus. The elders had summoned the Inner Sect disciples to the Mirror Courtyard. It was rare. Formal meetings like this were usually reserved for grand announcements or punishments.
Daelen didn't know which he hoped for.
---
The Mirror Courtyard lived up to its name. An open expanse of white stone, inlaid with silver lines that formed intricate patterns beneath their feet. The entire place reflected light in strange ways, as if warping the world just a little. Dozens of disciples stood waiting in orderly rows, silent.
Whispers filled the space between their silence.
"Did you hear? Someone opened the Sealed Archive."
"No way. That place hasn't been touched in decades."
"Elder Wun looked furious."
Daelen stood at the edge, away from the more prominent disciples. He noticed something strange—his reflection in the silverstone tiles wasn't moving right. While he stood still, the reflection tilted its head. Just slightly.
He blinked.
It mirrored him again.
"...the hell?" he muttered under his breath.
He stepped back, and the reflection followed as expected.
But for a moment… just one… it had looked right at him.
---
Elder Wun's voice cut through the murmurs.
"We speak today not of glory, but of trespass."
The courtyard fell into absolute silence.
"One of our own crossed the boundary into the Sealed Archive last night. A sacred place, untouched since the fall of the previous generation. The wards were not broken, and yet someone entered."
Gasps. Disbelief. A few disciples turned pale.
Daelen felt his pulse slow.
Last night… he had dreamed of a dark room filled with floating lights and torn books. A silver mirror had hung on the wall, cracked down the center. He had touched it, and it had bled.
He hadn't entered the Archive.
Had he?
Wun continued. "The artifact known as the Black Spiral has awakened. We do not yet know why. But when the world begins to stir in old places, it is not a sign of fortune. It is a warning."
Black Spiral.
That name. It echoed like thunder through Daelen's skull. His breathing grew shallow. That phrase—he had heard it before. But not in this world.
He remembered sitting in a classroom. A lecture. A story.
A story where the Hero of the Black Spiral was a secondary character. A failed one. A glitch in the narrative.
"It was never my story."
The voice rang out again—his own, but older. Tired.
He stumbled back a step.
No one noticed.
But something had begun to unravel.
---
Author's Note (My Commentary):
Alright, alright, we're diving headfirst now. Chapter 15 kicks off the descent into mystery and identity crisis, and you can bet this is just the tip of the weird iceberg. I wanted the vibe here to be "haunted but not horror"—we're not scaring the MC, we're disorienting him. The narrative is going to start bending around Daelen, and you'll see why soon.
That cracked mirror? That's not just symbolism, my friend.
The phrase "It was never my story"—remember it. It's your breadcrumb. Daelen's not just surviving anymore; he's starting to bleed into the cracks of a world that was never meant to hold him. And next chapter? Things escalate.
Let's go full spiral.