Lena stepped aside wordlessly and let Riven into her room. The moonlight cut a silver line across her floor, spilling shadows in every direction. Her heart was still racing from the dream—or whatever that had been in the mirror—but Riven's presence, intense and tightly coiled, brought no comfort.
He stood in the center of her room, rigid, eyes scanning the space like he expected something—or someone—to be lurking in the corners.
"Lock the door," he said.
Lena obeyed, hands trembling slightly. "What's going on?"
Riven turned to face her. "You're being watched. Closely. Not just by the Watchers anymore."
She narrowed her eyes. "You keep talking in riddles. Watched by who exactly? And what do they want from me?"
He inhaled sharply. "Do you know what it means to be Marked?"
Lena shook her head. "No. I didn't even know it existed until that note."
Riven reached into his jacket and pulled out something wrapped in old cloth. He unwrapped it slowly to reveal an antique mirror shard, its edge cracked like spiderwebs.
"This," he said, "was taken from a Vanished's sanctuary. It's been cleansed. Mostly."
He held it up for her to see.
Lena hesitated. Then peered into it.
Her breath caught.
For a moment, her reflection wasn't her own—it blinked a heartbeat after she did, a frame out of sync with reality. And for a split second, there was something behind her. A figure in black. Watching.
She jerked back. "What was that?"
Riven wrapped the shard again. "That's who's watching you. You've caught their attention. You're not just someone who disappears. You're different. You're a mirrorwalker."
"A what?"
Riven's jaw tightened. "Someone who doesn't just vanish from the world. You slip into reflections, shadows, even between time for moments. It's not just invisibility. It's movement through perception itself."
Lena blinked. "You're saying I… shift into mirrors?"
"Not just mirrors. Perception is a fragile thing, Lena. Most people only exist in one timeline, one thought stream. You exist in the spaces between. They want to use that."
"Who are they?" she asked again.
He hesitated, then whispered, "The ones who forgot how to die. The Vanished."
---
Unraveling Threads
The next day at school felt wrong.
Everyone was talking. Laughing. Gossiping about some new drama—who cheated on whom, who kissed someone under the banyan tree behind the music block, who was seen sneaking out of the principal's office.
Normal teenage chaos.
But for Lena, the air felt heavy.
And then there was him.
A new student.
He walked in like he owned the room, black kurta hanging loosely over dark jeans, his eyes a liquid brown that seemed to change with the light. Girls whispered his name before he even reached his desk.
"Dev Aryan," someone murmured.
He took the seat right behind Lena. His presence was... odd. Cold and warm at once. Familiar in a way that terrified her.
When the teacher asked him to introduce himself, he didn't even stand.
"My name is Dev," he said. "I'm just here to watch."
Some laughed.
Lena didn't.
Because he was staring straight at her when he said it.
---
The Triangle Begins
Later that day, in the library, Lena caught Kian leaning against the window, sketching something in his notebook. She walked over.
"Kian, who is Dev?"
Kian didn't look up. "The boy who stares too much?"
"I'm serious."
He shut the book. "So am I."
Lena crossed her arms. "What do you know?"
He looked at her, something dark flickering in his gaze. "Dev Aryan isn't a student. He's a collector."
"A what?"
"He collects people like you. Those who can walk between. And once you're marked, Lena, it's not love they're after."
She frowned. "I never said anything about love."
"You didn't have to."
The air between them buzzed with something unspoken.
She was about to say something when Riven walked in, cold eyes locking onto Kian immediately.
"Step away from her," Riven growled.
Kian raised an eyebrow. "Jealous much?"
"I'm warning you," Riven snapped.
The tension was electric.
Lena's heart beat faster. Three boys. One secret. And all of them orbiting her.
---
Forbidden Whispers
That night, Dev appeared at Lena's window.
She should've screamed.
She didn't.
He was just there, perched like a shadow, smiling with lips too smooth and eyes too deep.
"You're changing," he said. "Have you noticed it yet?"
"Why are you here?" she whispered.
"Because you're mine," he said softly. "You just don't know it yet."
"You're wrong," Lena said, stepping back.
But her breath hitched when he moved closer, lifting a hand—not to touch her, but to trace something in the air. A symbol. Glowing. Silver.
She gasped as the mark appeared, not on the air, but on her wrist.
A swirling glyph.
"Now," he whispered, "you'll begin to see. The world will bend."
And then he vanished, slipping into the glass of her window—leaving behind nothing but frost.
---
When Dreams Burn
That night, Lena dreamed again.
She was walking a corridor made of mirrors. Each one reflected a different version of her—some laughing, some crying, one covered in blood.
And at the end of the corridor stood herself.
But older.
Hardened.
Eyes glowing silver.
"You think this is about choice?" the reflection said. "You were chosen the moment you disappeared."
Lena tried to run, but her feet sank into the mirror floor like liquid.
Her own voice rang in her ears: "Some powers are gifts. Yours is a curse."
She screamed—
And woke up choking on tears.
---
A Love Marked by Shadows
The next morning, she didn't go to school.
She wandered to the old temple behind the town—where no one went anymore. The place was falling apart, stones cracking, moss devouring the gods.
But she found peace there.
Or tried to.
Until she turned—
And Riven was there.
Always watching.
"You're being pulled in too many directions," he said quietly.
"Maybe I want to be," she replied, voice barely a whisper.
"You're not safe with Kian. You're not safe with Dev. They both want pieces of you."
"And what about you?" she asked, bitterly. "What do you want?"
Riven hesitated.
Then he stepped forward, reaching out slowly. His fingers brushed her wrist, over the mark Dev had left.
"I want to protect the only girl who makes me afraid of losing control."
Her breath caught.
And then—
He kissed her.
It wasn't soft.
It was desperate.
Hungry.
Full of fear and fire and things left unsaid.
But as her eyes fluttered shut, the mark on her wrist burned.
And somewhere, in the distance, a mirror cracked.
---