They didn't sleep that night.
The temple trembled until dawn. The mark on Elira's arm glowed like starlight trapped in metal. Aeren could feel the heat of it just by sitting nearby.
"Three remain," Bryn murmured. "What does that mean?"
Kaelen's face was grim. "That we're running out of time."
They left the Ashen Wastes before noon, traveling east through canyons and whispering valleys. Bryn mentioned the next bearer might be somewhere near Mirror Vale—an ancient valley rumored to hold a lake that showed not your reflection, but your truth.
Elira made a face. "Ugh. Truth? That sounds emotionally exhausting."
"Compared to molten sand serpents?" Aeren asked.
"Molten serpents don't tell you you're emotionally repressed."
They arrived by dusk. Mirror Vale was beautiful: silver water stretched across the valley floor, surrounded by obsidian rocks and glowing flowers. The air shimmered faintly, like magic hung heavy over everything.
"This place is… weird," Aeren said.
Bryn sniffed the air. "Old magic. The kind that dreams of itself."
They set up camp, but as darkness fell, a strange mist rolled in.
A growl echoed across the water.
Then another.
From the mist emerged a creature unlike any they'd seen—massive, wolf-like, but covered in shifting mirrors instead of fur. Each pane showed a different scene: memories, fears, lies. The beast's eyes glowed white.
"It's made of reflections," Kaelen said.
"It's made of nightmares," Bryn corrected, summoning stone to her hands.
The beast charged.
Bryn met it first, slamming fists of rock into its mirrored body. One of the panels cracked—revealing a younger version of her, weeping alone in a cavern.
She recoiled. "No—!"
Kaelen moved next, her daggers dancing. Each strike fractured more panels, revealing pieces of her past—some triumphant, some harrowing. She grit her teeth and kept fighting.
Aeren tried to draw fire, but each time he struck, the beast showed himself—failing, struggling, weak. A younger Aeren begging his parents to teach him, only to be turned away.
Elira rushed to his side. "Look at me, Flame Boy."
"I can't—It's showing—"
"I know what it's showing. But that's not who you are anymore."
The beast lunged.
Elira stepped in front, hammer raised. Her mark flared.
"Forge Warden's right arm," she muttered. "Might of the Embercast."
The hammer struck.
The mirror beast shattered, light spilling everywhere like spilled moonlight. In its place stood a girl—tall, quiet, and wrapped in cloaks of faded blue. Her eyes were pale as smoke, and a mark pulsed on her neck: a spiral of silver and white.
"The Veilbinder," Kaelen whispered.
The girl opened her eyes fully. "I've been waiting for you."
Aeren stepped forward, stunned. "You were the beast?"
She nodded. "The Vale shows what you carry. I became what I couldn't let go of. But you helped me break it."
"What's your name?" Bryn asked.
The girl tilted her head. "Lyra."
Elira crossed her arms. "Cool. We have a ghost-vale-reflection-sorceress now. This group's getting real weird."
"Like you're the normal one?" Aeren teased.
She smirked. "Fair."
Lyra stepped into the firelight and sat beside them. "Two bearers remain."
Kaelen looked into the flames. "And so does the Herald's patience."