CHAPTER TWENTY: The King of Fragments
1188 Words
Damien’s POV — The City Between Echoes
The break in the sky spread, its edges edged with flickering light and sounds from another world. The floating metropolis of mirrors passed through it, bending time and identity with each breath.
Damien looked up at it with mounting fear.
"So you have come home," the voice whispered again, deep and broken, like a thousand souls conversing in discordant harmony.
Lena stood behind him, clutching the tired Key in her arms. Her shadow-self, once torn free, now remained within her like a coiled storm awaiting release. Her eyes shone with golden strands of power—and frailty. The King of Fragments stepped into the breach.
He appeared human. Male. Tall and graceful, wearing robes of changing glass and ash. His face was a collage of features from several people—Lena's cheekbones, Damien's jaw, and Lyra's eyes. Every glance at him made them feel uneasy, as if they were looking into a warped version of themselves.
Lyra said, "He was built from us. All the fragments we discarded."
The king raised his hand. Reality shifted. The hollow beneath their feet crumbled and cracked, revealing a spiral stairway of light and reflection that led to the sky. At its peak, the floating city pulsed like a heartbeat.
"Come," the King beckoned. "You have severed. You have bled. However, you have not yet understood. "You left this world broken, and now it is dying."
Lena stepped forward. Damien grabbed her wrist.
"It's a trap."
"It's an answer," she stated gently.
"If we don't go, we'll never know what we left behind." Lyra cursed beneath her breath. "We go together." So they climbed. --- The staircase drew them between dimensions. Every step evoked memories of youthful joy, battles waged, and friendships lost. By the time they arrived to the city's edge, they all felt like they had aged years.
The City of Mirrors stretched indefinitely, with buildings hovering in the air and bridges made of whispers and light. Reflections danced across all surfaces, revealing not their faces but their possibilities.
Damien got images of himself as a villain, never meeting Lena, and holding Arius' body.
Pain erupted in his chest.
"Don't look too long," Lena cautioned.
"This place feeds on indecision." The King waited in the square ahead. Around him, mirrored sentinels stood still like statues, each bearing a version of the travellers.
"You abandoned your fragments," the King stated.
"You removed what you feared rather than accepting it. So I greeted them.
"I created a kingdom for the lost selves." "That doesn't make it real," Lyra exclaimed.
"Then why do you all look like ghosts?" They said nothing. The King turned to face Lena. "Your shadow wailed as you embraced her. She used to be a divinity, but your fear diminished her. Give her to me.
"I'll crown her."
Lena backed away. "No. She is mine. My burden.
"My balance." The city trembled. The Key moved in Lena's arms.
"He is using the Echo Thread. That is how he governs the city.
It is what connects all of your discarded selves.
Damien stepped forward.
"Then cut the thread." The girl gazed at him, weakened but resolute.
"Only if I get to the Thread Core." In the heart of the city. But it is guarded.
The King listened. And smiled. "If she reaches the core,"
he added, "the city will fall. And every version of you, whether kinder, crueller, or stronger, will perish. You will only be who you are.
"Are you prepared for that loss?" Lena gripped the girl tightly. "Yes." The city sprang into activity.
Mirrored copies of themselves emerge, including shadow warriors and alternate identities. One thousand Lenas. One thousand Damiens. Twisted Lyra-mages, Damien-beasts, and Lena-queens.
"Run!" Damien exclaimed.
They fought their way through streets made of shifting glass. Every antagonist was familiar. Each hit represented a betrayal. Damien killed a version of himself who grinned while dying. Lyra burned someone who begged for compassion.
Lena sang the "severing" song again. It confused their echoes. Give them time. At the centre of the city stood a spire of light woven in silver thread. The Key reached for it.
"I can do it. But I need protection." Damien and Lena took the stand. Lyra chanted fire wards. The king descended. His voice became angry. "You would choose a single truth over infinite possibility?"
"I would choose a real life over a thousand lies," Damien yelled, striking at the King.
Their blades clashed. The King wielded a staff made of mirror shards that sung when struck.
Damien saw new possibilities with each clash—his death, victory, or treachery. The city attempted to distract him. But he concentrated on Lena.
The King divided himself, becoming 10. Twenty. Echoes and shadows. However, the girl managed to reach the thread. With one last breath, she placed her palm on it. And pulled. The city screamed. Every structure fractured. The sentinels collapsed. The echoes disappeared.
The King sank on his knees. "You doomed them all," he exclaimed.
"No," Lena replied.
"We freed them."
But it wasn't over.
The city's downfall inspired a deeper response. A pulse erupted from the spire's base. A buried construct, an old memory engine, shook itself alive. It was not formed by the King. It predated him.
"The Loom of Echoes," the Key murmured.
"It's trying to restart." Damien turned.
"Can we stop it?"
"Only if someone cuts their thread totally.
"A sacrifice." They all remained still.
Lena stepped forward.
"No," Damien replied.
"Don't you dare."
"It has to be me," she answered.
"I started it. "I broke the veil."
"You embraced your shadow."
"You've accomplished more than any of us."
"Exactly why I have to finish it." The Key placed a hand on Lena's chest.
"There's another way. But it is painful. You must weave your truth into the Loom, not destroy it.
"Become the thread, not cut it." Lena paused. Then nodded.
The spire opened. She stepped into the light. Damien rushed to her side, clutching her hand.
"If you're going in, I'm going with you." Lyra joined them.
"No more sacrifices alone." The Key came last. Inside the Loom, the centre of every reality spun. Threads from countless versions of themselves twisted into patterns of sorrow and hope. Each one called out to them.
Lena reached into her soul. I pulled the shadow forward.
"I'm not afraid of you anymore."
The shadow did not resist.
It bent its head.
Together, they wove.
Damien added his memories. His grief. His love.
Lyra added some fire.
The Loom accepted them. Shifted. And the city started to dissolve—not in disorder, but in calm.
One by one, the echoes grinned. Disappeared.
The king grieved. Not in wrath. But understanding.
"You choose to become entire.
"All I ever wanted was to be loved." He faded. They opened their eyes and found themselves back in the Hollow.
Whole.
Real and alone. The girl was gone. But her music lingered.
Lena held the knife of truth once more. And for the first time, the Hollow fell silent.
The King of Fragments was no more
- Writer
