MIRROR CAGE – CHAPTER 18: HOLLOW REFLECTIONS
"Your worst enemy is the version of yourself they liked more."
[Night – Kingsvale Institute Rooftop]
Elijah stood at the edge of the rooftop, wind tearing at his blazer. Beneath him, the lights of Kingsvale shimmered like a city trying to convince itself it was still alive.
It had been three days since the tournament finals. Since he had shattered Cain Lee's skull like it was made of plaster. Since the crowd had cheered not for him, but for the mask he wore.
He could still hear it. The roar. The hunger.
"Show us the pretty killer."
"Smile for the sponsors."
"Your pain sells."
They didn't care who he was. Only what he looked like. The other Elijah—the one with bones too visible, eyes too tired, presence too forgettable—had been erased. Again.
[Internal Monologue – Elijah]
Every win makes me more unreal.
Every cheer buries me deeper.
They remember the mask. They forget the boy.
He turned from the ledge. Footsteps echoed behind him.
Naomi.
"You're not sleeping," she said.
"You spying on me now?"
"No. Just paying attention. There's a difference."
She walked to his side. The air between them crackled. Not tension. Something worse.
Truth.
"You know what Cain said when he woke up?" Naomi asked.
Elijah said nothing.
"He said he saw two of you. One laughing. One crying."
His pulse slowed. Breath caught.
Naomi turned toward him, expression unreadable. "There's something inside the system. A mirror that records more than just video. Something old. Pre-Kingsvale. They used to call it the Cage."
Elijah didn't respond. But he clenched his fists. Not from anger.
From recognition.
[Flashback Fragment – Glitch Memory]
An operating table. Screams muffled by plastic. Two boys. One strapped down. One standing over him.
"Which one do you want to be?"
"The loved one."
"Then he goes."
Screeching static. Code unraveling. The smell of ammonia and burnt skin.
[Back in Present – Rooftop]
Elijah swallowed. "What happens if the Cage wakes up?"
Naomi didn't answer immediately.
Then: "Then your reflection stops copying you. And starts replacing you."
A pause.
"You mean... it's already started?"
"Tell me something, Elijah. Are there hours you don't remember? Moments where you're not sure if you acted—or just watched yourself do it?"
He said nothing.
Which was answer enough.
[Meanwhile – Sable's Dorm Room]
Sable Thorn flicked through surveillance footage. Her eyes bloodshot, fingertips trembling. Frame by frame, she reviewed Elijah's fights. Not just one.
Both.
"There you are," she whispered.
In one frame, Elijah dodged too fast. Faster than human reflex.
In another, he blinked out. One frame gone. Then reappeared a foot to the left.
"That's not just muscle memory..." she murmured.
She minimized the footage. Opened another file. Subject: Project Mirror.
Access restricted. She bypassed it with a cipher key she'd stolen from her mother's laptop.
The file opened.
She froze.
[Excerpt from Declassified Document]
MIRROR CAGE PROTOCOL - BETA PROGRAM
Status: Discontinued (Failure to contain Fragmented Personalities)
Risk Assessment: Red Tier Threat
Symptoms: Dissociative bleed, Reflection Drift, Neurological Inversion
Final Note: Subject 016 showed promising resilience, but deterioration began once both bodies gained autonomy.
Sable blinked. Heart pounding.
016... that was Elijah.
[System Update - Hidden Interface]
Fragment Consciousness: Semi-Active
Stability Warning: 68% and Falling
User Behavior Sync: Diverging
Reflection Bleed Detected
[Closing Scene – Elijah's Room, Midnight]
Elijah sat in the dark, hunched over the sink.
He stared into the mirror.
But it didn't stare back.
His reflection was smiling.
And he wasn't.