Escape to Freedom

Chapter 5: The mirror of Souls

Alina blinked against the blinding light, her hand still pressed to the iron gate. But when her vision cleared, she was no longer standing in the cold, stone chamber. The world around her had shifted, transformed into something surreal and unsettling.

She found herself in a vast, endless plain, the ground beneath her feet smooth like glass but dark as obsidian. Above, the sky was a swirling mass of storm clouds, tinged with red and purple, crackling with energy. In the distance, faint whispers floated on the wind, like the voices of those long forgotten.

In the center of the plain stood an immense mirror, its surface rippling like water. It was unlike any mirror Alina had ever seen. There was something alive about it—something that seemed to beckon her closer.

She hesitated, remembering the Guardian’s words: *The gate does not open to those who lie, not only to others but to themselves.* Whatever this mirror was, it would show her the truth she had buried deep inside. The truth she had run from.

With a deep breath, Alina stepped forward, her footsteps eerily silent on the glassy surface. As she approached the mirror, her reflection began to take shape, but it wasn’t quite… her. The woman in the reflection looked older, her face gaunt, eyes hollow with the weight of loss and suffering. This was Alina as she had feared to become—the version of herself shaped by years of imprisonment and the endless battle for survival.

Then the reflection shifted. The gaunt version of herself melted away, replaced by scenes from her past. Her childhood home appeared first, bathed in the warm light of a memory long forgotten. She saw her mother’s face, smiling as she baked bread in the kitchen, her hands dusted with flour. Alina felt a pang of guilt—she hadn’t thought of home in years.

The image changed again, faster this time. Now, she saw herself as a young girl, running through the fields with her brother, laughing under the golden sun. But the laughter quickly turned to screams. The sky darkened, the ground split open, and soldiers descended upon their village. She watched in horror as the memories flooded back—the fire, the chaos, the day her world had been torn apart.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the vision, but the mirror forced her to watch. Her brother’s face appeared next, twisted in pain, his hand reaching out to her before disappearing into the flames.

Alina gasped, her knees buckling beneath her. She had buried this memory, locked it away deep within her heart. She had convinced herself that she was to blame—that if only she had been stronger, faster, smarter, she could have saved him.

The mirror shimmered, showing her something new: herself, but this time bound in chains, standing before a group of prisoners. The cold expression on her face, the way she had turned her back on them, haunted her now. It was the moment she had chosen her own survival over helping the others escape.

Tears blurred her vision, and she fell to her knees, her breath coming in shallow gasps. This was the truth she had feared most—the truth she had tried to bury in the darkness of the prison. She wasn’t just a victim of circumstance. She had made choices, some of them terrible. She had let guilt, fear, and shame shape her, twist her into someone she barely recognized.

“Enough,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’ve seen enough.”

But the mirror didn’t stop. It continued to show her more—more of her failures, her regrets, the people she had lost, and the parts of herself she had abandoned along the way.

And then, amidst the swirling memories, she heard a voice. Soft at first, but growing stronger. It was her brother’s voice, calling her name. Alina’s eyes snapped open, and she saw him standing in the mirror, whole and smiling as he had been before the tragedy. His eyes, full of warmth and understanding, seemed to pierce through the darkness of her soul.

“You can’t change the past, Alina,” his voice said gently. “But you can choose who you will be from now on. The gate does not ask for perfection—it asks for acceptance. You must forgive yourself.”

Her heart clenched painfully as she reached out toward the mirror, toward her brother’s outstretched hand. Tears streamed down her face, but for the first time in years, she felt something stir within her—something like hope.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not to the mirror, but to herself. “I’m so sorry.”

As soon as the words left her lips, the mirror began to shimmer and fade. The memories dissolved, replaced by a soft glow that surrounded her like a warm embrace. The storm clouds above parted, and a beam of light shone down, illuminating the path ahead.

Alina rose to her feet, feeling lighter, as if the weight of her past had finally lifted. The gate had shown her the truth, and she had faced it. She had survived.

As the vision faded and she found herself back in the stone chamber, the Guardian’s voice echoed through the air once more.

“You have passed the test.”

The gate creaked open, revealing a passage bathed in light.

Alina took a deep breath and stepped forward, ready to claim the freedom she had fought so hard to earn. But as she crossed the threshold, she couldn’t help but wonder—what lay beyond? Would she finally find the freedom she sought, or was there another challenge waiting on the other side?

Only time would tell.