Sinbound: The Reincarnated Tyrant of Valkyrion Academy
Chapter 19 - 3: Reflection Hall

Chapter 19: Chapter 3: Reflection Hall

Some places were never meant to exist.

Others?

They persist because someone still remembers them.

Midnight.

The moon hung high above Valkyrion, casting silver light through glass domes and glowing crystal arches.

Aren Kael moved quietly across the academy grounds, his footsteps muffled by a layer of enchantment sewn into the stone by forgotten architects.

He followed no map.

Only a feeling.

And the message:

"You are not alone. Meet at Reflection Hall. Midnight. Come alone."

The name wasn’t on any schedule.

Not listed in any course directory.

But the closer he got to the western ridge, the more the system dimmed in his mind.

System Note: Service Suspended

Entering Non-Indexed Zone: Reflection Hall

The path dipped into what looked like a broken stairwell beside the old observatory.

No light.

No sound.

He stepped inside.

And the world changed.

Reflection Hall was vast.

A dome of ink-stained mirrors, each floating in midair.

The floor beneath his feet wasn’t stone, but pooled liquid that reflected nothing.

There were no walls.

Only stories.

Each mirror pulsed with memory.

Aren saw flashes:

Riven standing against the Archivist.

Kaela bleeding beneath a fractured moon.

Seria crying as timelines collapsed.

Lysara reaching through void.

But also...

Versions of himself he had never lived.

One mirror showed him wielding two blades, fighting side-by-side with someone unfamiliar.

Another showed him lying in the snow beside a broken quill.

And in the center of the room—

A single chair.

Facing away.

Occupied.

A voice spoke.

"You made it."

Aren froze.

"Who are you?"

The chair turned.

The figure was cloaked.

Old.

Face veiled.

But when he raised his hand,

the air shifted.

Because his hand glowed with the echo of an author’s thread.

System Override Detected

Role: Fragmented Author (Prototype Tier)

Aren stepped back.

"You’re a writer."

The figure nodded.

"The first one they deleted. The one Riven replaced."

Aren’s breath caught.

"You were before him."

"I was before the world learned it could rewrite itself."

The man stood.

He walked to a mirror.

Touched it.

"This place holds the versions they erased. The truths no one could fix. I stayed because someone needed to remember."

He turned.

"And now... you’re here."

Aren frowned. "Why me?"

"Because you were born from intention, not accident. You’re not just a child of ink. You’re a sequel."

The mirrors began to pulse.

Faster.

Louder.

The world around them shivered.

Anomaly Detected: Reflective Surge

Stability of Reflection Hall: COLLAPSING

The figure growled.

"Someone is trying to erase the hall. Again."

Aren spun.

One of the mirrors shattered.

A figure emerged.

Tall.

Silver-eyed.

Wearing no face.

Echo Entity Detected: "Null Proxy"

Function: Memory Executioner

Target: All survivors of erased arcs

The man shoved Aren backward.

"You have to leave."

"Not without you."

"I’ve already been written out. But you haven’t."

He reached into his coat.

Pulled a page.

Folded in gold.

"This contains a thread. Not mine. Not Riven’s. Yours. Take it. Run."

Aren grabbed it.

The Proxy roared.

Mirrors exploded.

Ink poured from the ceiling.

Aren ran.

Behind him, the man turned, faced the faceless figure.

And vanished into the glass.

Aren burst from the stairwell.

Collapsed onto the grass outside.

The system rebooted in his mind.

System Reengaged

Memory File Secured: Unaligned Thread (Origin Unknown)

New Trait Unlocked: Witness of the Lost Author

You have absorbed the legacy of a deleted writer

Passive Effect: Immune to Reflective Erasure for 1 minute per day

Back in her tower, Lysara felt the ripple.

Seria looked up from a scroll.

Kaela dropped her blade.

They all spoke the same words.

"The Hall is breaking."

And in his dorm, Aren opened the folded page.

It was blank.

But as he stared at it, a single line appeared:

"The story always begins with a question. So what do you want it to become?"

Aren closed his eyes.

And whispered:

"Something no one forgets."

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