Sera didn't sleep that night.
The mirror in the hallway remained cracked—just a single jagged line running down the center, as if something had tried to break through from the other side. She avoided looking at it directly, but every time she passed, she could feel eyes on her.
Watching.
Waiting.
By dawn, she was pacing.
She needed answers.
Kael had vanished after their first meeting, and now Luminary Studios was pulling her into something far more dangerous than she'd expected. And somewhere between reality and illusion, another version of herself was trying to reach out.
But why?
And more importantly… how?
Echoes in the Glass
She stood before the cracked mirror again.
Her reflection stared back at her, unchanged—at least, at first glance.
But then—
It blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Sera froze.
Mirrors don't blink.
Not unless there's someone behind them.
Or unless they're not mirrors anymore.
She reached out slowly, fingers trembling.
The surface rippled again, just like the night before. But this time, instead of fading, the distortion spread outward like cracks in ice.
A whisper rose from within.
"Sera…"
Her own voice.
Except it wasn't.
It was deeper, smoother, edged with something unreadable.
She pulled her hand back sharply.
The ripple stopped.
The mirror went still.
But the crack remained.
She turned away quickly, heart pounding.
This couldn't be happening.
Could it?
The Message That Shouldn't Exist
Later that morning, while searching for anything—anything —that might anchor her to reality, she found an email waiting in her inbox.
From herself.
Sent five minutes ago.
Subject: You're already here.
Body:
_Don't fight it.
You wanted to know who I am?
I'm you.
The version of you that stayed.
The one who never left Florence.
The one who made a promise and kept it._
No attachments.
No signature.
Just those few lines.
Sera stared at the screen.
Then she typed a response.
If you're me, prove it.
She hit send.
Less than a second later, the reply appeared.
What do you want me to say? That I remember the night you lost your mother? That I held her hand as she died, even though you ran out of the room because you couldn't bear to see her go? That you erased that memory, but I kept it?
Sera gasped.
That memory—her mother's death—was something she hadn't thought about in years. Something she had buried so deep, she barely remembered it herself.
How could someone else know it?
Unless…
Unless it was her.
Another version.
Another life.
Another truth .
She backed away from the laptop.
Her hands were shaking.
The Appointment
At noon, her phone rang again.
Same number as before.
Luminary Studios.
She hesitated.
Then answered.
"Ms. Elowen," Marla Voss said smoothly. "We were hoping you'd call."
"I'm not interested in your project," Sera said.
There was a pause.
"We weren't offering a choice."
Sera stiffened.
"What does that mean?"
"It means we know what's happening to you. And whether you accept it or not, you're already part of this."
Sera swallowed hard.
"You're not going to stop until I come back, are you?"
"No," Marla said simply. "Because if you don't, someone else will."
Silence.
Then the line disconnected.
Sera stared at the phone.
Someone else?
Who?
Into the Heart of the Unknown
Two hours later, she was back in the black car.
The same driver.
The same eerie silence.
As the city blurred past the tinted windows, Sera felt a strange sense of detachment. Like she was watching herself live through this moment, rather than experiencing it firsthand.
When the car finally stopped, she stepped out.
This time, she knew exactly where she was.
Luminary Studios.
Dr. Liora Venn was waiting.
Without a word, she led Sera down a long corridor lined with glass walls. Inside each chamber, technology hummed softly—holographic displays, neural interfaces, brainwave monitors.
They entered a circular room at the end of the hall.
Inside, a single chair sat beneath a glowing dome.
"This is the Echo Chamber," Dr. Venn said. "It allows us to interface with alternate versions of consciousness across fractured realities."
Sera shook her head. "I don't believe in this."
Dr. Venn smiled faintly. "Belief doesn't matter. You're already connected."
Sera looked around.
Then, suddenly, the lights dimmed.
A low hum filled the air.
And then—
She saw her.
In front of her.
Not a reflection.
Not a video.
A living, breathing person.
Another Sera.
Dressed in the same velvet dress from the photo.
Standing just a few feet away.
Smiling.
"Hello, sister," she said.
The Other Self
Sera took a step back.
"You're not real."
The other Sera tilted her head. "Are you sure about that?"
Sera looked at Dr. Venn. "This is some kind of trick."
"No tricks," Dr. Venn said calmly. "Just science."
Sera turned back to her doppelgänger.
"What are you?"
"I'm you," the woman said gently. "Just… further along."
"In what way?"
"In every way."
Sera's breath hitched.
"You were offered a choice once," the other Sera continued. "To stay in Florence. To keep the life you built there. To love yourself fully, without fear."
Sera shook her head. "That never happened."
"Oh, it did," the woman said. "You just forgot."
"How?"
"Because you chose to."
Sera closed her eyes.
Memories surged—fleeting images of a villa bathed in golden light, laughter echoing through marble halls, the scent of jasmine on warm summer nights.
She opened her eyes.
The other Sera was still there.
Still smiling.
Still watching.
"You left," she said softly. "You ran from everything you built. From me."
Sera's throat tightened.
"Why would I run?"
The woman's expression darkened.
"Because you were afraid."
Of what?" Sera whispered.
"Of becoming me."
The Choice That Was Never Given
Dr. Venn stepped forward.
"This is what we've been tracking," she said. "Consciousness fragmentation. A rare phenomenon where a person's identity splits across multiple realities due to emotional trauma, intense decision-making, or extreme self-awareness."
Sera looked between them.
"And I'm one of these people?"
"Yes," Dr. Venn said. "And your other selves are reaching out. Trying to merge."
Sera shook her head. "Why?"
"Because they need you," the other Sera said. "Because you're the last piece of the puzzle."
"What happens if we merge?"
Dr. Venn and the other Sera exchanged a look.
Then the woman stepped closer.
"It depends," she said. "Will you let go of the life you have now?"
Sera hesitated.
Did she want to?
Was this world—the apartment, the work, the isolation—really hers?
Or was it just the echo of a choice she never meant to make?
The Breaking Point
Suddenly, pain lanced through her skull.
A sharp, splitting sensation.
She cried out and clutched her head.
Images flooded her mind—flashes of lives she had never lived.
Holding hands with a woman in Florence.
Painting murals in a studio lit by candlelight.
Laughing with friends.
Crying alone.
Choosing to leave.
Choosing to forget.
Choosing to become this version of herself.
The pain intensified.
She fell to her knees.
Voices overlapped in her ears—whispers, memories, fragments of conversations she had never heard.
Then—
A final image.
Her own face.
Looking back at her.
Not in a mirror.
But in the eyes of someone else.
Someone who loved her.
Truly loved her.
Because she loved herself.
Fully.
Completely.
Unapologetically.