CH. 61 The Trial of Truth, Part II
Farro steps into the mirror-
and vanishes like a flicker of candlelight.
The surface ripples.
Then clears.
And like before, the chamber shows its cruelty with elegance.
---
Farro stands in a long, dim hallway lined with mirrors.
Not magical ones.
Not judgmental ones.
Just ordinary mirrors-
cracked, dusty, each reflecting a different version of him.
He looks around nervously.
"Uh... hello? Anyone? Preferably someone with snacks?"
No one answers.
A child's laugh echoes behind him.
Farro stiffens.
"Oh no," he mutters. "No, no, no-why is it always children-"
---
A small boy runs into view, barefoot, wild curls bouncing.
Young Farro.
Maybe six years old.
Chasing a toy bird made of metal gears.
He's smiling-
but the smile is off.
Strained.
Like he's pretending someone is laughing with him when no one is.
The hallway brightens, revealing what's missing:
No attendants.
No tutors.
No guards.
No mother.
No father.
Just a child alone in a palace meant for hundreds.
Adult Farro swallows.
"I remember this," he murmurs. "No one... had time."
The young Farro pauses, looking toward an open doorway.
From it, voices drift:
The King and Queen.
"...He's too soft," King Uriec says. "Useless."
"Then leave him," the Queen answers. "We have the heir. We have the spare. He can entertain himself."
The boy lowers the toy bird.
Slowly.
Like setting down hope.
Farro's face crumples as he watches himself.
"That's why I played alone," he whispers. "Not by choice... but because no one cared."
---
The scene shifts.
A grand hall.
Tables full of food.
Nobles dancing.
Laughing.
Young Farro appears, dressed neatly, eyes bright-
trying so desperately to be noticed.
He approaches the Queen, tugging her gown.
"Mother! Look- I learned a dance today-"
She doesn't even look at him.
"Not now, Farro."
"But- but look-"
"I said no."
He freezes.
Then a noblewoman-beautiful, dripping jewels-kneels and touches his cheek.
"Oh! What a darling little prince," she croons, full of warmth that isn't real.
"You must dance with me. You'll grow up to break so many hearts."
The boy beams immediately.
Leans into the touch.
Drinks in the affection like a starving creature.
Adult Farro flinches.
"They only touched me when they wanted something," he mutters.
"They only loved me when it made them look good..."
The noblewoman rises, whispering loudly to her friends: "He'll worship any woman who smiles at him. How adorable."
Their laughter is cruel.
The boy doesn't hear it.
He's too busy basking in the attention.
---
The hall melts into a balcony overlooking the gardens.
Young Farro stands there with a girl-
maybe twelve, maybe thirteen-
a palace servant.
She gives him flowers she picked herself.
"For you," she whispers shyly.
"You're my favorite of the princes."
Farro blushes crimson.
"You're my favorite too," he says earnestly. "Do you want to-"
A harsh voice cuts through.
The Queen.
"Farro!"
The girl jumps back, terrified.
The Queen strides forward, grabs the child servant by the hair, and drags her away.
"How dare you touch a prince?!"
"Mother, stop-she didn't-please-!"
The Queen slaps Farro.
Hard.
"You do NOT give your heart to people beneath us."
The girl is dragged off screaming.
Farro collapses on the balcony.
Adult Farro clutches his hair, trembling.
"I forgot this," he whispers.
"No... I- I forced myself to forget. I-"
His voice breaks.
"She was kind. The only one who was.
And Mother- she- she punished us both."
The chamber tightens around him, whispering:
"Every affection denied became hunger."
"Every touch forbidden became desire."
"You chase love because it was always snatched away."
Farro covers his face.
"I just... didn't want to be alone anymore."
---
The mirrors along the hallway begin glowing.
And from each one-
people walk out.
Women.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
All the faces he has kissed.
Flirted with.
Promised laughter, comfort, or distraction.
They surround him.
Every one of them speaks the same words:
"You only wanted me because you were lonely."
"You never loved any of us."
"You used us to fill the empty places."
"You don't know what real love is."
Farro sinks to his knees.
"No," he whispers. "I- I tried- I didn't know- no one taught me how-"
A mirror cracks.
His reflection-
cold, hollow-eyed, older-
steps out.
This version of Farro is devastating:
Handsome.
Charming.
Smiling.
And completely empty.
"You chase love," the reflection says, "because you fear you are not lovable."
Farro shakes.
"I'm not- not like you-"
"You are exactly like me," the reflection snaps.
"You joke so no one sees you cry.
You flirt so no one sees you beg.
You break hearts so no one breaks yours."
Farro looks up, eyes wet.
"I don't want to be that man."
"Then choose," the reflection says.
"Let me break.
Or let you break."
Farro rises on shaking legs.
Stares his worst truth in the eye.
And whispers:
"No more running."
He steps forward-
and embraces his reflection.
It shatters around him like glass.
Light floods the chamber.
Farro stands alone.
But no longer lonely.
---
The mirror releases him.
He steps back into the arena-
pale, trembling, red-eyed-
but different.
His brothers stare.
Gavin swallows hard.
Sorien watches with quiet understanding.
Farro breathes shakily.
"...Well," he jokes weakly, "that was awful. Ten out of ten. Never again."
But his voice cracks.
And for the first time-
he doesn't hide it.