They quickened their pace because, although Alaric hadn’t noticed, they had lost several hours until he managed to come out of his catatonic state. Lysa faced an inner dilemma. On one side, the shadow that refused to leave her: the loss of her fiancé. It was still too recent. On the other, Alaric. There was something about him that stirred a warmth in her, one she couldn’t quite understand. Was it love? She wasn’t sure, but when she saw him collapse upon touching the door that initiated the trial of the mind, something inside her broke, and an icy panic surged through her. Yes, she had felt terror at the thought of losing him too. And now they walked hand in hand toward a dark and uncertain fate. But she carried her sorrow with her, like a heavy burden on her back. Her mourning was far from over.

As they advanced, the corridor grew brighter. Ahead of them, there had to be some kind of light source, undoubtedly. It turned out to be sunlight itself, for they finally emerged into an interior courtyard, very deep, surrounded by walls of rock covered in ivy that rose high above them. From above, it must have looked like an enormous well. Sunno shone in the sky, illuminating the vertical tunnel with its warm light. Down there, they were surrounded by a garden of sandy paths. In its day, it must have been beautiful, but neglect had allowed wild plants, brambles, and weeds to take over. In the middle, they found a large circular pergola, formed by at least thirty marble columns, weathered and moss-covered, with a sort of glass greenhouse raised on a platform of the same white stone at its center. The glass panes were dirty and foggy, making it impossible to see clearly what lay within.

“There it is, our final challenge. The trial of spirit,” said Edel, stepping aside to let the others pass.

“Is it like the last one? Whoever enters first is the one who faces it?” asked Alaric.

“Yes, exactly. And only one of us can enter. Us, I should say. Don’t any of you even think of going near that door. One round of unconsciousness was quite enough.”

Lysa looked at her sister. She had no doubt. If the trial posed any danger, she would not allow Zari to face it.

“It will be me,” she said, and before anyone could reply or object, she strode firmly toward the glass enclosure.

“Lysa, my love,” her mother called out, a mixture of plea and worry in her voice. “What awaits you in there, you’ll only overcome with your spirit and strength of will. Be very careful.”

Lysa nodded, but just as she was about to enter, Alaric approached her.

“Take care. You’re the trained sorceress—you wouldn’t want a mere thief like me to beat you in overcoming magical challenges, would you?” he said, jokingly. But his voice couldn’t hide his unease.

“Don’t worry, it won’t take much to surpass you,” she replied, with a hint of a smile. And before entering, she gave him a quick kiss. Nothing sensual, nothing passionate. But it was a grand gesture of true affection. The last thing she saw, as the glass door closed, was Alaric’s face, nervously smiling, raising his hand slightly. As a goodbye, or perhaps to keep her close.

Upon entering, she paused for a moment, studying the room. It was hot, and the air was humid. The space was open and bare; there was no furniture, no tools, no pots—nothing one might expect to find in a greenhouse. From within, she noticed that all the glass panes were mirrors, reflecting her image back thousands of times. The room wasn’t very large. It was rectangular, though with rounded edges. The only striking feature of the building was a glass dome rising in the center. Other than that, everything was quite simple. She could cross it and reach the door on the other side in fewer than twenty steps with no difficulty. But, of course, something was bound to stop her; it couldn’t be that easy.

She advanced carefully, accompanied by the countless reflections on the walls. She wasn’t entirely sure what she would face. The trial of spirit. It could mean so many things… The neglected, dirty floor creaked beneath her feet. She passed under the dome, but there didn’t seem to be anything interesting up above, either. She approached the end of the room, and still, nothing had happened. Maybe the magic of this place had already faded. With a glimmer of hope, she reached out toward the golden handle of the door. She was so close that she could almost leave.

“Lysa?”

She froze. Petrified.

“Lysa? Is that you?”

That voice… It couldn’t be. She withdrew her hand slowly and turned around.

“Lorenz…”

“Where are we, Lysa?”

“No… You’re not real,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’re an illusion, a product of my mind.” Tears began to fill her eyes, and a painful pressure settled in her chest.

She knew it was impossible. But there he was, just as she remembered him. His short brown hair, his lively brown eyes, his tanned skin, and his robust body, one of a man accustomed to working with his hands. He wore the black leather vest he loved, over a white shirt, breeches, and high boots. He looked around, bewildered, as if he truly didn’t know where he was.

“What do you mean, Lysa? I’m here with you. I just don’t know where we are.”

“But you can’t be here. You can’t. You’re… you’re dead,” she replied, her voice breaking and tears streaming down her cheeks. “I… killed you.”

The young man looked at the ground, as if struggling to remember. Then he lifted his gaze, which was no longer as kind.

“It’s true. I remember. Why did you do it, Lysa? I loved you.”

“I’m sorry,” she tried to say, her voice cracking. “You were hurting my sister. And you had betrayed me. You stole the amulet.”

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Lysa realized her body was trembling. Lorenz frowned and took a step forward.

“But you know it wasn’t really me, don’t you? It was that woman who got into my head, just like you got into mine to make me cut my own throat, remember?”

“Every day, every night,” she thought. But she couldn’t respond; the words wouldn’t come. Her throat felt dry, and the pain in her chest grew deeper and deeper.

“Instead of forcing me to slit my own throat, couldn’t you have fought that thing to expel it from my mind?” Lorenz continued, still approaching her. His tone was no longer friendly or warm. It was rough, showing his anger.

Lysa began to feel afraid. It was true. She had gone over it a thousand times in her mind since that cursed night. If she had thought it through, if she hadn’t reacted so quickly, she could have tried. Perhaps he would still be alive. But she did the first thing that came to mind. She had to act. She couldn’t bear to see the thread of blood on her sister's neck, trickling from under the edge of the dagger. She looked away, ashamed and nervous. Everything around her began to darken, as if a cloud had settled between Sunno’s light and the opening in the well. The air grew thicker and colder.

“Here, I’d been saving this for you all this time,” Lorenz said in a cold, serious tone, coming even closer. “An engagement gift.”

Terrified, Lysa saw that he was offering her the same dagger he had used that night.

“You know what you have to do, Lysa. Pay for your crime. Right your wrong. And come with me. I’ve missed you so much…”

She noticed her hands trembling as she reached for the dagger Lorenz was offering her. Perhaps this was the only way to end her pain. What if it was true? What if, by taking her own life, she could return to him?

Suddenly, she was surrounded by a chorus of crazed voices. The reflections that had cornered her had taken on a life of their own. They urged her to do it, pointing at her, mocking and insulting her. All those Lysandras screamed and screeched, resulting in a chaotic clamor of her own voice, repeated thousands upon thousands of times. Some reflections even seemed on the verge of breaking the glass violently, ready to pounce on her. A curtain of blood droplets began to cover each mirror, like a cursed mist, slowly trickling down to the ground.

Almost without realizing it, she took the dagger in her trembling hand and slowly brought it toward her neck. But something stopped her. The last image she had seen before entering the greenhouse flashed in her mind: Alaric’s face, smiling with concern.

She closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath to calm herself. She couldn’t let guilt and regret take over. She relived that night again: Lorenz’s crazed stare. The gleam of the blade. Her sister’s terrified face. The men fleeing with the medallion. The responsibility. The pain. The grief. She opened her eyes and looked at Lorenz with determination.

“I had to do it. I couldn’t stop to think,” she managed to say at last. “You would have killed Zari before I even had the chance to fight back.”

Lorenz paused, thoughtful. His expression shifted to the one she remembered from happier times. The cacophony of voices began to diminish, the images growing vaguer and less menacing, until the tumult finally faded. The reflections in the mirrors returned to normal. The dagger had disappeared.

“You’re right. I would have.”

Lorenz took her hands. She had expected a cold, ethereal touch, but it was warm and strong. He felt so real, so alive, that it was hard to remember he was only an illusion. Or perhaps he wasn’t. He looked at her with his brown eyes, infinitely sad, as though they still held the sorrow of that last night they spent together.

“You did the right thing, Lysa,” Lorenz murmured, caressing her face. “It’s time for you to stop tormenting yourself. We loved each other, but damn destiny had other plans for us.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, but she couldn’t stop the tears that escaped as she tried to find the words.

“I always loved you with all my heart, and though I’ll never be able to forget you… or forgive myself…” Her voice broke. Lorenz pulled her against his chest and kissed her.

“I forgave you long ago, Lysa. From the moment I understood that my actions were no longer my own. If you hadn’t stopped me, if I had killed Zari… or done something to you… living with that would have been worse than death,” he replied, holding her gently, just as she remembered, stroking her hair. “And you need to forgive me, too.”

“For you? Why?”

“I should have resisted… If I had been stronger, none of this would have happened.”

“But you couldn’t. She was too powerful. Even for a sorceress like me. You, on the other hand…”

“I was just a simple man from the countryside, I know. But even so, I was weak. I gave in; I let myself be controlled.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Nor was it yours. It was that thing. Now we know that. We’ve always known that. You’ve always known that.”

As they parted, Lorenz looked at her with eyes full of nostalgia.

“That man, Alaric… he’s a good person, isn’t he?”

Lysa sighed softly.

“He is. Although he insists on seeming like a ruffian, deep down… he’s noble.”

“Do you love him?”

Lysa closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure. But it was his memory that had helped her restrain herself.

“I think so.”

“Then go back to him. And be happy. That’s my final wish.”

Lysa nodded, with a melancholy smile, feeling a weight lift from her chest. Lorenz looked at her with a mixture of resignation and acceptance in his eyes, but with a hopeful smile. And then, without another word, he faded, leaving her alone in the greenhouse. The reflections in the mirrors were now just that, harmless and silent reflections.

“I will always remember you. I will always love you,” she said quietly, closing her eyes, embracing the air.

“Always,” she seemed to hear in response, like a whisper, an echo floating on the wind.

Lysa took a deep breath, wiped her tears, and moved toward the exit. As she opened it, she realized it was the same door through which she had entered. She could have sworn she hadn’t retraced her steps. She saw the others waiting anxiously for her, and they greeted her with joy the moment they saw her.

“My daughter, you did it,” Edel said proudly. “I knew you would.”

“Did you ever doubt it, Mother?” Zari replied, winking at Lysa. “Remember, she’s my sister. We’re the best.”

Lysa smiled, with a mixture of joy and relief, as Alaric, silently, looked at her with a deep expression of admiration.

“None of us ever doubted it,” he said, with a slight bow.

She turned, and at the end of the greenhouse, where she thought the exit had been, now there was an opening in the floor, with stairs descending into the unknown.

“Yes, it’s time to move forward,” she told herself, pressing her lips together. She stepped toward the new entrance. This time, she was the one leading the way.