T
Most dungeons are dark. They smell of mold and rot. The dungeon beneath the Glass Citadel was different. It was blindingly bright, and it smelled of ozone and lemon.
The Citadel was a marvel of the age, a spire of diamond-hard crystal that refracted the sunlight into a permanent rainbow over the capital. But beneath its beauty lay the Reflection Labyrinths. Prisoners weren't sent there to rot. They were sent there to face themselves.
Jarek, a thief of some renown (and even more arrogance), was thrown into the labyrinth on a Tuesday. The guards didn't take his weapons. They didn't even shackle him. They just shoved him through a mirrored door and laughed.
"Find the exit, thief," the captain said. "If you can look yourself in the eye long enough."
Jarek scoffed. He adjusted his leather bracers and checked his dagger. "Mirrors. How quaint. I'll be out by dinner."
The corridor was made entirely of glass. Floor, ceiling, walls. Jarek saw a thousand Jareks stretching into infinity. He winked at his reflection. "Handsome devil."
He started walking. The path twisted and turned. Every step was accompanied by the click of his boots on glass. After an hour, the novelty wore off. The light was relentless. There were no shadows to hide in.
Then, he saw movement. Not his own movement.
In a reflection three layers deep to his left, a Jarek was lagging behind. It was limping.
Jarek stopped. The reflection stopped a second later. He waved his hand. The reflection waved back, but its hand was... wrong. It was clawed.
"Trick of the light," Jarek muttered, gripping his dagger.
He turned a corner and came face to face with himself. But this Jarek wasn't wearing his confident smirk. This Jarek was weeping black tears.
"Why did you leave her?" the weeping reflection asked. Its voice was Jarek's, but distorted, like speaking underwater.
Jarek froze. "Who?"
"The girl in the market," the reflection said. "The one who took the fall for your first theft. She spent five years in the salt mines. You never even looked back."
"I... I had to survive," Jarek stammered.
Another reflection stepped out of the wall behind him. This one was covered in blood. "And the guard?" it rasped. "The old man on the bridge? He was just doing his job. You slit his throat for a purse of copper."
"It was him or me!" Jarek yelled, swinging his dagger at the mirror. The glass didn't break. It rippled like water.
More reflections peeled themselves off the walls. Greed, Cowardice, Cruelty. They surrounded him. They were him, but stripped of all the lies he told himself to sleep at night.
"Get away!" Jarek slashed wildly. His blade passed through them as if they were smoke.
"You cannot kill us," the Greed-Jarek sneered, fingering a stolen necklace. "We are you. You built us, brick by brick, sin by sin."
They attacked. Not with weapons, but with memories. They forced him to relive every betrayal, every act of selfishness. He felt the cold of the prison cell where the girl rot. He felt the dying breath of the old guard. The physical pain was nothing compared to the weight of the guilt.
Jarek fell to his knees, covering his ears. "Stop! Please!"
"Admit it," the reflections chanted in unison. "Admit what you are."
"I'm a monster!" Jarek screamed. "I'm a coward and a thief and a murderer! I deserve this!"
Silence.
Jarek panted, tears streaming down his face. He looked up. The twisted reflections were gone. He was alone in the corridor again. But something had changed. The wall in front of him swung open.
Beyond it lay the exit. A simple wooden door leading to the outside world.
Jarek stood up shakily. He looked at his reflection in the open door. It was just him. Tired, broken, but him.
He walked out into the cool night air. The guard at the gate looked up, surprised. "You made it out. Most go mad in there."
Jarek didn't answer. He took the heavy bag of stolen coins from his belt—his "retirement fund"—and dropped it in the dirt.
"Hey! You dropped this!" the guard called.
"Keep it," Jarek said, walking away into the darkness. "I have a debt to pay to a girl in the salt mines."
He left the Glass Citadel behind, but he carried the mirrors with him. He knew now that you could run from the law, but you could never run from the man in the glass.