The mask didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
Yet Sora felt its presence crawling across her skin like heatless flame.
It hovered inches above the floor—porcelain white, lips curled into a soft, serene smile. The same smile every traitor wears when they think they're justified.
"Put me on," the mirrors whispered.
"Remember who you really were."
"Before the games."
Sora backed toward the nearest wall—but there was no wall. Only another mirror. Another version of herself.
This one was wearing the mask.
Blood on her hands.
Crown of thorns.
Eyes burning like she'd never needed anyone again.
"Not me," Sora whispered.
The mirrors laughed. Fractured. Flickering.
"Yet."
She looked down at her hands—still shaking, still bruised from the last game. From Rin's betrayal. From trusting.
"She wore me," said the mask, now drifting closer.
"She won. Briefly."
"Then the King broke her."
Sora clenched her jaw. "I'm not putting you on."
"You already did," it replied.
The mask stopped. Inches from her face.
Then it split—right down the center, two halves floating apart.
Inside wasn't hollow.
Inside was a third eye.
And it was open.
Sora stumbled back.
But the room tilted with her—gravity shifting, dragging her toward the mask like it was a black hole.
Her feet skidded. Her hand caught a jagged mirror shard, slicing her palm.
Blood hit the floor.
Time slowed.
The mask pulsed.
"One drop of blood. One truth confessed. Or you don't leave."
Sora screamed and threw the mirror shard at the mask—it passed straight through.
The shard kept flying—until it struck her reflection across the room.
The masked version of her staggered, cracked down the middle.
And then spoke.
"If you won't wear it," it said, "someone else will."
From behind her, the door she'd never seen suddenly existed.
Made of glass. Flickering.
A single word carved into its frame:
REUNION
The mask hissed in disappointment.
But it didn't follow her.
Instead, it waited.
Because if the King had taught it anything—it was that in Death Land, everyone comes back to the mask eventually.