Mirror (Part III)

As Simon and the wettenbreathen approached the forest’s threshold, the air thickened with an unspoken tension. This was no ordinary wood — it was a place of memories and reflections, where each tree held a whisper of worlds beyond.

The canopy above formed a patchwork of darkness and light, casting intricate shadows that danced underfoot. The ground was a soft carpet of leaves, each step stirring echoes of past footsteps — not all of them human.

The forest felt alive. Aware. Its breath was a symphony of rustling leaves and creaking limbs. Simon shivered, not from cold, but from the realisation of just how far he’d strayed from the world he knew.

The wettenbreathen led the way, its form now a lantern in the gloom. It moved with purpose, as if drawn by a force unseen. Simon followed, senses sharpened, conscious of eyes watching from the dark.

Deeper in, Simon began to hear familiar sounds among the whispers —fragments of his own memories. Flashes of childhood. Arguments. Loneliness. Moments both mundane and momentous, replaying like ripples beneath the trees.

It wasn’t just a forest of other worlds.

It was a mirror of his soul.

The journey became a trial — not of strength, but of emotional endurance. The forest confronted him with regrets, fears, unspoken hopes. Each memory was a test. Each step forward, a kind of defiance.

But strangely, with every step, he felt something grow within him. A quiet strength. As if the forest wasn’t just testing him — it was teaching him. Showing him who he really was beneath the weight of everything he thought he’d left behind.

Then, the trees parted.

They entered a clearing, and at its centre stood a tree unlike any other. Towering and ancient, its trunk glowed faintly with a pulsing light. Its branches stretched outward like veins into the sky, each leaf glimmering like a star.

The wettenbreathen stopped. With a single motion, it gestured for Simon to continue alone.

He hesitated.

Then stepped forward.

As he neared the tree, the light intensified, casting his shadow long and thin across the clearing. He reached out, hand trembling. When his fingers touched the bark, a surge of energy shot through him — like being plugged into the source of the universe.

The tree spoke.

Not in words, but in visions. Emotions. A flood of meaning that bypassed thought and pierced directly into Simon’s being.

It showed him the breach — a rupture in the fabric of existence, torn by a power seeking to sever the ties that held the worlds in balance. He saw the aftermath: chaos, collapse, oblivion. A universe in disarray.

He also saw himself.

Not as he was.

As he could be.

A guardian. A protector. A defender of worlds.

The tree offered him a choice.

Return to his world. Live in the shadow of what he’d seen. Or accept the mantle. Seal the breach. Become something more.

Simon stepped back, overwhelmed.

He turned to the wettenbreathen, searching its gaze for an answer. It didn’t speak. It didn’t move.

But in its silence, he felt encouragement. Trust.

The choice was his.

And his alone.