The Reflection of Him

TW: [Mentions/Hints of Sexual Abuse, Self-Harm]

Solleiyana couldn't sleep. Her thoughts swirled like the restless spirits she'd seen in her sleep, tethered to the prophecy that had named her daughter, Yaaraelith, The Mask of Malice. The words had left a bitter taste, a foreboding she could not shake.

Barefoot, she moved through the cool marble halls, and torches lining the walls flickered weakly. Then she heard it—a whisper, playful and fleeting, like a giggle.

She stopped.

The sound came again, from a room up ahead. Her lips curved into a small smile. Yaara, she thought, or perhaps another one of her children, sneaking around when they should be sleep. The thought was comforting, a distraction from the brief storm inside of her. The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open with the flat of her hand. The room was dark, almost pitch black.

“Children?” she called, stepping inside. She felt along the wall for the lamp switch. When the light flickered on, it was blinding. She squinted, raising a hand to shield her eyes. When they adjusted, she froze. A child with long, curly white-blonde hair darted across the room. Her heart swelled with relief. “Yaara, is that you? Lyra?” she called.

The child did not answer, only giggled again, light and airy, before disappearing deeper into the room. Solleiyana followed, her smile soft.

The room was full of mirrors. Floor to ceiling, they lined the walls, their silver surfaces gleaming under the light. When she stepped further in, her reflection multiplied endlessly—thousands of her stared back, watching her every move. 

“Come out, little one,” she said.

She glanced at the mirrors, expecting to catch a glimpse of her child, but the reflections rippled unnaturally, distorting her face into something grotesque. She frowned and shook her head. The child’s laughter echoed again, pulling her further into the labyrinth of glass.

The air grew heavier, colder. Her breath came out in visible puffs. She stopped, her heart quickening. “This isn’t funny anymore,” she said, louder now, her voice trembling slightly. “Come out and come to bed, daughter.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. She turned quickly, but it was only her reflection—or so she thought. It stared back at her with wide, terrified eyes, but she wasn’t moving. Her reflection smiled.

“No,” she whispered, stepping back. The room seemed to tilt, the mirrors bending inward, the reflections warping. The child. It wasn’t Yaara or Lyra.

It was her.

Her younger self.

The girl with wide, innocent eyes and long, curling hair. The girl who had once trusted too easily, loved too openly. Solleiyana’s chest tightened as the child stopped in the center of the room, turning to face her. The girl clasped her small hands together and whispered, “You’re my sun and my moon, Dad. Without you, I’d be nothing.”

Solleiyana’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered in her chest as if trying to break free from a cage. She stepped back, shaking her head violently.

“No,” she muttered. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare.”

But the girl only smiled—a soft, fragile thing—and repeated, “Without you, I’d be nothing.”

“Stop it!” Solleiyana shouted. Her voice cracked, the sound echoing in the mirrored walls. She turned, desperate for escape, but all she saw was herself, reflected endlessly.

Every version of her was different. One was young and smiling, her hair in loose curls, clutching a stuffed dragon she hadn’t seen in decades. Another was older, covered in bruises she tried to hide with layers of silks and jewels. Yet another stared back at her with hollow eyes, her face a mask of pain and rage.

She shivered, a cold wave of nausea rolling over her.

“Do you remember, my little star?”

The voice hit her like a dagger between the ribs. Deep, smooth, deceptively gentle. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once. Her knees buckled, and she clutched the nearest wall for support.

“No,” she whispered again, her voice trembling. “You’re not real. You’re not here.”

The room seemed to shift around her, the mirrors rippling like water. She could hear footsteps now—measured, deliberate, each one heavier than the last. She pressed her palms to her ears, trying to block out the sound, but it only grew louder.

Then she heard it—a scene playing out like a memory dragged from the depths of her mind. 

“You’re my little star,” Nymmros murmured. “This is how I show you I care. No one else could love you like this.”

The sound of her own cries echoed through the mirrored room—soft, muffled sobs of a girl too young to understand why she hurt but old enough to know she couldn’t escape.

“Please,” younger Solleiyana whispered, her voice trembling. “I want to stop doing this, it hurts.”

“Shh, shh. Pain is temporary, my star. Love is forever. You’ll see that one day.”

“Please,” her younger self whimpered again.

Solleiyana staggered backward, her hands clamping over her ears, desperate to drown out the nightmare. But the voices only grew louder, as if the room itself were amplifying them, throwing every vile word back at her.

“You don’t want to upset me, do you?”

Her stomach churned, bile rising in her throat. Her reflection loomed in every direction, wide-eyed and trembling, staring at her like an accusation.

“You’re nothing without me.”

“Stop!” Solleiyana screamed, but it came out weak, hollow.

Her younger self’s sobs intensified, the raw pain in them slicing through her like a blade. The sound of the child’s fragile voice broke her:

“I’ll be good. Just—just don’t do it anymore.”

Nymmros chuckled, low and cold. “You are good, my little star. That’s why this is special. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Solleiyana’s knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, her hands pressing so hard against her ears that her nails dug into her scalp. “You’re not real,” she chanted through gritted teeth. “You’re not here. You’re not here!”

But the memory persisted, dragging her into its cold, merciless grip.

“You’ll always be mine,” Nymmros said.

Her younger self’s voice cracked, a faint, “Why?”

“Because I love you. More than your sisters and your mother.”

Solleiyana’s chest heaved as a scream built in her throat. She couldn’t take it anymore—the echoes, the lies, the twisted truths that had poisoned her life. Her head snapped up, and she glared at the mirrors.

They taunted her with his face. His voice.

With a furious cry, she lunged forward. Her fists smashed into the nearest mirror, the glass shattering in an explosion of jagged shards. Pain flared as her knuckles split open, golden blood dripping onto the floor, gleaming like liquid sunlight. She didn’t care. She slammed her fists into another mirror, and then another. The sharp edges tore into her skin, slicing through flesh, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

The room trembled as the mirrors cracked and splintered, each one releasing its hold on her, piece by agonizing piece.

“You don’t love me!” she screamed, her voice raw and filled with fury. “You never did!”

The echoes of her father’s voice began to fade, drowned out by the sound of glass raining around her. Her body shook, her golden blood pooling at her feet, but she felt lighter with every shatter, every jagged edge that fell away.

Finally, she stood in the centre of the room, breathing hard, surrounded by broken mirrors. Her hands trembled, blood dripping from her fingers. She collapsed to her knees, her tears falling freely now, mixing with the gold on the floor.

“You’re not real,” she whispered, this time with conviction. “You’re gone. You don’t own me anymore.”

The room darkened, the remnants of the mirrors dissolving into shadow. And for the first time in years, Solleiyana felt the faint stirrings of freedom.

Solleiyana’s sobs came in ragged gasps, her body shaking uncontrollably. Golden tears streaked her face, mingling with the blood from her hands. She could barely see through the blur of pain and exhaustion, the edges of her vision closing in. The door slammed open, and suddenly, warm, steady hands were on her.

“Solleiyana! Gods, what happened?” Her husband, Ezra’s voice was frantic, trembling with fear. He knelt beside her, his arms wrapping around her trembling form. “Love, look at me. What happened!”

She clung to him like a lifeline, her nails digging into his shoulders. “He—he was here,” she stammered between heaving breaths. “He’s here. Ezra, he’s here!”

Ezra’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the shards of glass, the golden blood pooling on the floor, and the haunted, broken look on her face. “Who? Who was here? What happened?”

“My father,” she choked out, her voice breaking on the word. Her grip on him tightened, as if letting go would mean falling back into the nightmare. “He—he never left. I—I can’t breathe.”

Ezra held her closer, his voice soft but firm. “You’re safe now. Solleiyana, you’re safe. Just breathe, love. Please, try to breathe.”

But she couldn’t stop the torrent of words spilling from her lips. “We never really escaped him, Ezra. He was always there, always watching, always in my head. I can’t—he said I was his star—his little star.” Her voice cracked, a fresh wave of tears overtaking her. “I tried to fight him, I tried, but he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t—”

Ezra’s heart clenched as he listened, his mind racing to piece together her fragmented, anguished words. To him, she sounded like she was unraveling, caught in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

“Solleiyana,” he said gently, brushing her bloodied hair from her face. “He’s not here. He’s gone. Do you hear me? He can’t hurt you anymore.”

But she shook her head violently, her breath hitching. “You don’t understand! He’s always been here. In the mirrors, in my mind. I hear him, Ezra.”

“Your father’s dead, Sol—”

“He’s inside the walls!” Her words came faster, tumbling over one another as though speaking them aloud might finally purge them. “I tried to love him. I did. Because that’s what he wanted, and I didn’t know—I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Ezra’s grip tightened as anger and heartbreak surged through him. He tilted her face toward him, forcing her to look at him. “Solleiyana, listen to me. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe. You’re here with me, with our children. He has no power over you.”

She looked at him through tear-swollen eyes, her breath hitching as if she wanted to believe him but couldn’t. “I can still feel him. I can still hear him,” she whispered. “Ezra, he’s in me. I can’t get him out. He’s in the walls. The mirrors, he’s everywhere.”

He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the golden streaks on her cheeks. “You’re stronger than him,” he said. “He’s not in you. You are Solleiyana. You are my wife, my love, the mother of our children. You are not his. You never were.”

Her sobs softened, her hyperventilation easing slightly under the weight of his words. But the despair in her eyes lingered, a shadow too deep to erase in a single moment.

Ezra stood, lifting her into his arms effortlessly. “I’m taking you out of here,” he said firmly. “You don’t need to stay in this room. You don’t need to stay in this pain.”

She buried her face in his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his neck. “He never let me leave,” she murmured. “No matter where I go, he’s always there.”