We are not reflections

This was the part in the movie where the secret got out.

Every screen in the bunker blazed with one headline:

"IDENTIFIED: Student Behind Global Mirror Phenomenon Named."

Kael stared at the grainy, poorly-lit photo of himself plastered across every news channel in the world.

That was his face. His dumb hoodie. His unbrushed hair. Frozen mid-blink like he was caught sleepwalking through the apocalypse.

"Oh no," he breathed. "Oh no, no, no."

Ava's voice played in the background, shaky and recorded from her interview:

"I was just walking home with him. And he looked at a store window and... there was nothing. He had no reflection. It was just—gone. And then the glass cracked. I don't know what I saw."

Renji winced. "Welp. That's the viral bestie energy right there."

On another screen, a boy Kael barely recognized—he sat next to him in math once, maybe—gave an impassioned recount of Kael vanishing mid-conversation.

"I swear it wasn't a joke. He was gone. I looked at him and—boom—gone. But the window was still shaking."

Ziv, perched upside down again, muttered, "World's one conspiracy away from a full-blown riot."

And the world did not disappoint.

Online, videos exploded. Hashtags surged. Memes and theories flooded every corner of the net.

#ReflectionBoy #MessiahOrMonster #Kaelwatch

Some claimed he was a clone. Others said he was the Mirror King reborn. A few believed he never existed at all—that he was a government test gone wrong.

In the midst of it all, a girl from school posted a video sobbing into her phone: "He gave me a pen once. What if that was a sign?"

Kael buried his face in his hands. "Why do I always end up in the weird parts of the internet?"

Meanwhile, back in the city, Arlen—Kael's best friend—sat in the corner of his bedroom, his phone glowing pale blue as notifications flooded his screen. His name was trending too. His face caught in a blurry image beside Kael's on their way home from school.

Everyone wanted to know what he knew.

He hadn't spoken to the press.

He hadn't spoken to anyone.

He scrolled past Ava's clip for the fourth time, watched the fear in her eyes.

Then came the witness report.

"The student," a woman's voice trembled on camera, "he ordered coffee like normal. But when he passed the café mirror, I swear to you—he had no reflection. Not distorted. Not blurry. Just gone."

The news shifted again:

FBI and local law enforcement launch investigation into Kael Karter's connection to global mirror phenomenon.

Public advised to avoid all reflective surfaces.

Arlen's thumb hovered over Kael's contact.

Ring.

Ring.

No answer.

"Where the hell are you, Kael?" he whispered.

His laptop pinged with another theory. Another warped photo. Another person claiming Kael was the harbinger of something unholy.

Arlen didn't care about conspiracies. He just wanted his best friend back.

****

Far from the cities and screens, in a remote, silent village lost somewhere in the hills, a man leaned closer to an old computer, eyes narrowed.

He wasn't watching the news.

He was watching the signals. Patterns in light. Digital pulses too subtle for the average observer.

The name "Kael" flashed again. The image of a face. A reflection that never quite aligned.

The man leaned back, exhaling slowly.

"So," he murmured. "It's finally started."

He stood, pulling a faded coat over his shoulders.

"If they're opening the gate... then I need to move before it's too late."

His name wasn't known. Not yet.

But it would be.

****

Beneath the surface of the world, in a hidden labyrinth far below any city, the cult's headquarters throbbed with chanting and anticipation.

Laizerl stood in the inner sanctum, surrounded by warped glass walls and mirror-lit flame. His robe was immaculate, white threaded with silver, and his face held a reverence bordering on madness.

He clutched a long shard of mirror-glass to his chest like it was holy scripture.

"You'll come back," he whispered, voice trembling with faith. "You'll remember who you were. Who you are. And when you do... the world will bow to you."

Behind him, rows of masked cultists bent low, murmuring prayers. The gate pulsed in the distance, a heartbeat made of glass and promise.

"They call you a curse," Laizerl continued, stepping forward, "but they don't know the truth. You are chosen. You were always meant to rise.

He smiled faintly, almost boyishly.

"I will be the one who serves at your side. I will walk with you when the veil breaks."

A dark whisper slipped through the mirror. Not words. Not quite. Just... suggestion.

A presence unseen, manipulating.

Laizerl shivered. "I know. I know you're waiting. Just a little longer."

He lowered the shard reverently onto the altar and turned his face to the ritual circle glowing on the floor.

"My Sovereign... when the gate opens, you will return in glory."

And far beyond the veil, something ancient smiled with sharp teeth.