Chapter 6 — Reflections (Ending)
Glass like water • A boy made of smoke • “I feel like I know you”
The chamber dims. His heartbeat slows until it matches the city’s—steady, eternal. The smoke folds around him, tender and possessive, until his shape is only memory. The walls breathe with color; his art moves on its own, alive, hungry. Every line he ever drew hums with recognition. The city outside answers in kind—windows flicker, mirrors pulse, rain catches the light like veins of silver.
Lilith stands at the center, haloed in reflection. Her eyes glint with pride and hunger both. “Artists never really die here,” she whispers, her voice slipping through the glass. “They only awaken.”
The mirrors ripple, and from their depths, Dio opens his eyes. His reflection no longer mimics him—it is him. The smoke solidifies into a figure woven of light and shadow, his grin a perfect echo of the one he once feared in the glass.
Lilith’s smile deepens. “You heard the invitation,” she says. “And you answered.”
The city exhales, its heartbeat syncing with his. Somewhere far above, a screen flickers awake. An empty message sends itself again: no subject, no sender, only coordinates.
The warehouse door opens. The bass begins anew. The night breathes.
And across every mirror, window, and screen that catches the light—Dio watches.
Not waiting anymore.
Welcoming the next one in.