Chapter Nine: The Mirror Soul
The archway vanished by morning, as if it had never been there. Only the moss-stained stone beneath Isabelle's shoes proved it wasn't a dream.
But something had changed.Inside her.Around her.
She sensed it before she saw him.
At the university library, in the back where the antique books lived, Isabelle was tracing symbols in an old folklore tome when she felt the air shift—like the pressure before a storm.
She looked up.
A tall young man stood across the aisle. Dark-haired. Still. Watching her with a gaze far too knowing for someone she'd never met.
Their eyes met.
Time didn't stop—it shattered.
Flashes rushed through her like lightning:
A man kneeling beneath the willow, hands bloodied, whispering apologies…A soldier's uniform torn with battle, his eyes filled with regret…A hand reaching for hers just as fire consumed the world around them…
He broke the silence first.
"You see it too," he said softly.
Isabelle stood slowly. Her heart thudded against her ribs. "Who are you?"
He gave a sad, almost reverent smile.
"Someone you once trusted. And maybe… someone you once damned."
His name was Julian Ashford, a transfer student in her folklore course. But as they spoke, it became clear—his memories weren't just of classes and coffee. He remembered her.
He remembered being Theo in another life. Belle's lover. The one who made the fatal mistake.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this," Isabelle said, her voice tight with old pain. "You left me. You chose your power over me."
Julian's jaw clenched. "And I've died with that guilt in every life since."
Their words weren't logical. Weren't even fully their own. But the truth behind them trembled in the air.
Isabelle backed away. "I don't forgive you."
"I didn't come for forgiveness," Julian said. "I came because something's coming. The circle's breaking. We need to choose differently, or we'll lose this chance again."
She froze.
Those words.
The same ones Cordelia had whispered through the willow.
Later that night, she couldn't sleep.
Julian's eyes haunted her.
He wasn't the enemy. Not completely.
But he was the key.
The question was: to salvation—or another betrayal?