Truth was always incompatible with liars.

The truth was a steel horse. No matter how hard you tried to stop it you would fail. You might delay this slow steel horse but you could never escape it.

Damon was not a fan of the truth at least when it came to certain things. It was because the truth was bitter and cut deeper than any sword. And right now he was the keeper of many truths.

Though he preferred to call them secrets.

Yes Damon had many secrets and depending on which ones were revealed it could lead to a breakdown of his personal relationships and a complete civil war.

Sadly enough Damon was not the only person with secrets that needed to be revealed. Everyone did.

The question was what was the difference between a secret and a lie.

Lazarak had told Damon things about the trial of truth. This trial had three simple rules.

The first rule was simple.

It shows you who you were.

The second rule was similar.

It shows you who you are.

And finally the last rule.

It shows you who you will become.

Honestly Damon did not know what to make of these strange rules if they could even be called rules. He knew who he was and he understood who he is. The only thing he did not know was who he would become.

And since even the trial could not decide that for him would that not challenge its own rules.

That said Damon knew it would not be that easy.

The reason was simple. This trial and this prison were built to hold a god powerful and wise. How could they be so simple. They were designed to hold down anyone who tried to leave.

Failure was not an option.

Damon sighed. His breath left a faint ripple in the fog as if the world was listening to every exhale.

Except his odds were not looking good from the start. He had no idea where he was at the moment.

Right now he was standing in a place he had never been before. Of course he had not been here before.

Because this world this place was, he glanced down and saw his reflection. He saw his own face, a young man with weary eyes and long black hair falling against pale cheeks.

There were blood stains on his face though it did not seem to be his own. His fingers twitched toward the stains on instinct, rubbing at them, feeling nothing but cold skin and dried texture.

This was not what should have been reflected back. All things considered he was in the body of his shadow Ghost and Ghost looked like a dark solid shadow shaped like a man. Or in this case an elf.

Damon turned around carefully but he saw no one. His movement stirred the mist but revealed nothing. This whole world was a fogged mirror labyrinth.

There were reflections everywhere and all around him everything was made of glass with the fog obscuring his gaze from traveling far.

The ground was smooth and eerily perfect. Everything was silent. So silent Damon began to hear a ringing sound in the air.

At first he thought it was outside of him. Then he realized it was coming from inside his own ears as the silence pressed inward.

'Where the hell is this' he thought. His thought burst out through the mirror surface like a scream.

It rattled the mirror world with a ghastly noise that seemed wrong in this serene world.

The shock made Damon's chest seize. He froze his heart on instinct and placed a hand over it to feel its stillness.

This was not his body that was true. But Ghost had a body like a living elf. So his heart should have been on the left. Damon was sure it was on the left.

Then why was his heart on the right.

Damon's eyes flickered. He angled his head slightly, listening for any shift behind him.

A cold sensation slid across the back of his neck like a fingertip traced in warning. Danger flickered.

Damon pivoted sharply, raising his hands slightly in reflex, ready to strike.

Nothing. Only the same unease. But stronger. He felt as if someone was looking at him. This gaze pressed against his skin, prickling gooseflesh up his arms.

It felt as if he was being forced to stand in the middle of a large crowd completely naked.

Damon turned his head slowly then quickly then sharply then again more cautiously.

His movements became more controlled as his breathing steadied. He tried to pick up where the gaze was coming from. But he could not.

No. He could. He sensed he was being watched. But it was not from any single direction or pair of eyes.

The gaze came from everywhere. It came from this world of reflective surfaces.

'I need to get out of here' his mind said and the world trembled with it.

Damon bit his lip. That small pain grounded him. This was not good. He did not know where Matia and Lazarak were and he was unsure of what was even happening.

He closed his eyes. He forced his posture to stillness. He tried sensing for shadows using Ghost's body. Nothing answered him. The shadows did not move.

No, there were no shadows here.

A terrible thought leaked from his mind into the world.

'Am I the reflection or am I trapped in the mirror.'

His words rolled through the world like a stone crashing across glass. This world was deplorable.

In this place you could not keep secrets. You could not lie. Your thoughts were open and screamed for all to hear.

Everything in your mind, your emotions, feelings, desires, doubts, all of it fed this world.

The greater the lie the stronger the truth when it arrived.

Damon began walking. After a few steps his footsteps finally echoed back. The sound felt delayed like the world had to think about whether it should allow the noise.

"Wait no do not leave me here wait stop"

A voice reached him. It scraped like someone dragging air through a crushed throat. Low and desperate.

"No …please no someone please…"

This voice was familiar in its desperation.

"Is this really how I am going to die…. In a ditch."

Naturally Damon recognized the voice. His own voice. His shoulders rolled back slightly in preparation for whatever would come next.

"So this is the first rule" he said aloud because he hated how loudly thoughts echoed here.

The first rule showed who you were.

This was Damon. It was the day he had been pushed into a ditch by Marcus and his gang after refusing to yield for the nth time.

Damon remembered how desperate he had been to survive. More than anything he did not feel hatred for the fools. He had only been trying to survive.

"Well they are dead now and they tasted delicious. Wonder why I was so hesitant to eat them."

He spoke aloud to drown out the unease pressing around him.

Then—

The reflection of him on the ground smiled. It rose from the glass like a man pushing up from water. Shards of mirrored liquid slid off its body as it broke free of its eternal mimicry.

Damon did not flinch. His stance widened slightly and his fingers curled as if around an invisible blade.

"First my shadow, now my reflection. How original."

The reflection smiled wider.

"What bravado. You say you want to die. Yet you fight so desperately for life."

It stared at him. Its form seemed more real than Damon's own.

"Liar."

Something inside Damon cracked. It felt like a shard had been stolen right out of his chest.

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