Tianmu: Eyes of Illusion

Lucas stopped believing in coincidence two weeks ago.

Not since the mirror. Not since the dream that turned into waking life.

So when he saw the same tri-spiral glyph drawn in chalk under a freeway overpass—the exact one he'd seen in his first dream—he didn't dismiss it as street art.

He stood under the concrete beam, looking at it. Someone had traced the lines carefully. Deliberately. With understanding.

There was a message here. One that only someone like him could read.

"You're not alone."

Not words. Not sound. Just the idea of them, blooming in his skull.

He took a picture with his phone. The glyph didn't appear.

He blinked—and for a split second, the glyph flickered gold again.

Then faded.

Lucas's breath came slower now, not with fear—but with focus.

Someone was trying to reach him. Someone who could see.

That night, the glyph followed him.

It showed up in reflections.

In the condensation on his tea mug.

In the lines of a pedestrian crosswalk.

Not taunting—leading.

And eventually, it led him to the old conservatory at Merrin Hill.

The place had been abandoned for years.

Vines had cracked the glass. Ivy crawled like green veins over stone. But a faint light glowed inside—a single lamp behind thick dusty panes.

Lucas stepped in, mirror in one pocket, phone off.

"Don't knock," he told himself. "If they're like me… they already know I'm here."

Inside, the smell was damp. Earth and rot. But also… incense?

He moved silently. Toward the light.

Then a voice:

"Close the door, Lucas."

He froze.

The voice was male. Calm. Measured. Young—but older than him.

He obeyed.

A figure stepped from the shadows—hooded, long coat, holding a book. He had Chinese features, but a strange accent—somewhere between Midwest English and Beijing opera.

"You've been broadcasting," the man said, not looking up from the book.

"What?"

"The Eye's open. You leave trails. Even when you think you're hiding."

Lucas stared. "Who are you?"

The man finally looked up.

One of his eyes was blue, the other a swirling amber that didn't reflect light—it absorbed it.

"Eli," he said. "Like Elijah. Or 逸礼. Depending on how real you want me to be."

They sat. No pleasantries. No welcome.

Eli handed Lucas a cup of tea that smelled like dried osmanthus and burnt sage.

"You think your abilities are illusion. They're not. They're vulnerabilities you learned to weaponize."

"You've opened the Eye. But you haven't closed your thoughts."

"That's why they see you."

Lucas leaned in.

"They? The Watchers?"

Eli looked amused.

"We call them that. But they don't watch like cameras. They perceive like tides. You stepped into the ocean and left ripples."

He flipped the book. Showed Lucas a drawing:

A faceless humanoid shape surrounded by mirrored shards.

"Faceless One," Lucas said, breath tight.

Eli nodded.

"That was a Scout."

"There are others. Stronger."

"And hungrier."

Lucas drank the tea. It tasted metallic. Made his tongue tingle.

The room spun.

Then… cleared.

His vision sharpened—and he saw the sigils burned into the floor beneath their chairs.

A defensive array, old Daoist style, mixed with… Celtic knotwork?

He stood suddenly. "What are you?"

Eli shrugged. "Someone like you. Born of two worlds."

"I'm not here to recruit you," Eli said, quieter now. "But you need to understand: the more you see… the less real this place becomes."

Lucas looked around. Plants on the wall began to tremble—though there was no wind.

Eli added:

"You'll start seeing traces."

"Marks left by those who dreamed too deep."

"Some of them never woke up."

Suddenly the mirror in Lucas's pocket burned hot.

He pulled it out. The surface rippled again—not silk now, but quicksilver.

A shape formed.

Not a face.

Not even a symbol.

Just an eye, wide open, watching back.

Then…

It blinked.

Lucas fell back, gasping.

Eli didn't move.

"It's begun," he said. "The Watchers are testing boundaries. Using reflections to enter."

"You've become a beacon, Lucas Zhang."

"What you do next… won't just affect you."

Outside, in the city, streetlamps flickered.

Three people stood on a rooftop across from the conservatory.

None of them moved.

Their shadows were pointing the wrong way.

🔍 下一章预告（Chapter 12 – Mirror Signal Lost）:

Lucas attempts to find Eli again the next day—only to discover no one remembers him. The conservatory? Burnt down five years ago. And the mirror? It's now reflecting someone else's life.