Chapter 56
Fifty-six
Eight individual spotlights highlight oval standing mirrors in the illuminated circles.
The curved mirrors are bewitching. I’m transfixed on the celestial designs swirling around the silver frame; the silver shimmers with iridescence under the glow of the orb lights.
It is as if the moon herself were caught within the frame.
Twin crescent moons facing one another are arranged carefully at the bottom, while the top features a series of delicate starbursts set within a crown, with a large moonstone inlaid into the center.
We all hesitantly scatter in opposite directions—each of us drawn to, yet apprehensive of, the looking glasses intended for us.
As we all take our spots in front of a mirror, the lighting in the arena remains off, adding to the eerie feeling that lingers in the atmosphere.
The crowd is quiet, waiting and watching with bated breath.
My feet are moving while my mind is reeling.
What could this be? I make my way to meet my image in the looking glass.
I look at the outskirts of the mirror; perhaps there is a puzzle or a clue inscribed in the details that I need to find.
I’m distracted by a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision.
What? Staring at my reflection, I recognize parts of the woman in front of me.
She’s me, yet she’s not. A veil of shadows darkens her features, as if she were hiding in the dark.
Her hair is parted into two braids, her green eyes are richly shining, but her facial expression is off.
She looks… vindictive. Her mouth is turned downwards in a scowl, her eyebrows bunched inwards.
I watch as her posture shifts, her arms folding defensively.
“What are you?” I breathe.
“It’s not what I am,” I startle as my voice speaks back to me, “but what aren’t you?”
I twist my bandana, watching my reflection do the same.
I drop my hand and watch as hers remains, a smirk lifting one corner of her mouth.
She’s toying with me. I lean forward, my nose, my breath fogging in front of me.
Moving to place my hand against her cheek, my hand passes through onto her skin.
I gasp, drawing my hand back. The glass is false.
I repeat the motion, not only feeling her skin against my hand but also the soft pressure on my face as if my hand were physically warming it.
Holy shit. The mirror is enchanted. I take my fingers, flicking them against the braid resting above her collarbone.
My fingers bounce off the mirror with a resounding boing, but my braid brushes over my shoulder.
Anything that happens to her… happens to me.
“Bravo,” she slowly claps. “That took longer than I expected. I thought you were smarter than that.”
My nostrils flare in anger as she continues, “Maybe if you try harder, you’ll feel important to somebody.”
Wow, she’s going straight for the deep cuts. I get it now. They’re playing on our duality. She is supposed to be my twin, the other side of my personality—not my good side. It’s as if she is the shadow of my psyche, my shadow self. But what does she want?
I sit down on the ground, expecting this to take some time. She mirrors the movement, starting a silent standoff. Somewhere in the background, I hear Lenny shout. I go to look as my twin clicks her tongue, saying, “You always have to be the hero, don’t you?”
My head whips back. “That’s not true.”
A sharp sensation pricks my skin. What was that? “No? Not always flying off the handle to protect others?”
“No.”
The prickling ensues. My shadow self cackles, “Lying to yourself doesn’t feel so good, does it?”
She’s doing this to me? Am I lying to myself? I take a different angle: “There is nothing wrong with caring for those you love.” No prickling, thank the stars.
“But who loves you?” Her words wound me, hitting something deep within me.
“What do you want?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“A whisper you refuse to claim, and always the first you are to blame. Try to evade me, but you’ll never be whole, for I am ink upon the soul. Look inside and let it be known; only then shall I grant you the stone.”
Nope, we are not the same—I, for one, do not speak in riddles. I consider the assignments Orion has had me complete over the past few weeks. He has asked me to examine my shining accomplishments, my deepest secrets, and my biggest regrets. He has encouraged me repeatedly to remember who I am.
Lenny yells in anger. I ignore her and look this time, seeing him grip each side of the mirror as he screams heatedly. What is his twin saying to get him so worked up? Focus, Zellie.
“You can’t protect him. You can barely protect yourself.”
The retort is on my tongue before I can stop it. “That’s not true!”
I hiss through the pain, “I’m trying my best.”
“You’re jealous of Jada and your friends back home. You don’t miss them; you haven’t thought of them beyond the envy of wishing you were in their place and not here in these Games.”
Shame heats my skin. “Truth.”
The twin looks down on me, making me feel inferior. “You push away safety and seek danger, even knowing your heart requires the former.”
I reflect on my actions, my desires. “I do.” Stars above, I do.
“You seek acceptance. You want to be loved. Yet your insecurities arrange a barricade surrounding you, making you blind to those who already do.” Is that true? I swallow the growing lump in my throat. Of course, it is.
“Yes,” my voice wobbles.
“You care so little about yourself that you continue to put yourself recklessly in peril’s path.” Her voice drips with condescension.
It’s easy to forget to love yourself when you focus all your energy on others. “I have been careless with myself.”
“That anger within you is fuel. You aspire to be so much more, but what is stopping you from lighting the match?”
I use Orion’s meditative practices to center myself and regulate my breathing.
Closing my eyes, I consider every facet of my character.
I carry the capacity to be cruel, knowing precisely what to say or how to hurt someone.
I’m not afraid to use that to my advantage.
Above all, I fear being powerless. Evident in how I’ve thrown myself into every activity and hobby in Lunara to be successful—to feel needed—and even more blatantly so here in Astralis.
I want control; I want power, and I hate how small I have been made to feel.
This is why I avoided the exercises during training. Acknowledging my imperfections hurts.
“Fear. Fear of failure. Of not being enough.”
It’s easy to ignore the parts of ourselves that do not shine brightly.
No one wants to see the ugliness that is harbored in shadows.
When you sit with yourself long enough, you find every crack, every detail of what is perceived to be wrong with you.
But while you’re observing who you are, you also realize the strength inside you.
That you were enough all along. My light would not shine so brilliantly without the shadows that surround it.
My shadow self watches me work through my thoughts and feelings. She wants acknowledgement. She is as much a part of me as my positive traits are.
"I hold both compassion and cruelty within my heart. I am laughter wrapped in insecurity, joy intertwined with anger. While I am not perfect, I may falter, but I am enough. I am human, one full of flaws, and I embrace the darkness within me the same as I welcome the light.”
I feel raw, exposed. My reflection smiles, “I see you, Zellie Toro. You are worthy.” She stands with her hands outstretched.
I copy the movement, heart pounding. My hands once again slide through the glass as if it were water.
Our hands connect briefly, and as my shadow self dissolves in me, a moonstone shard generates within my palms. Cautiously, I pull back until the gem is secured directly in front of me. I did it.