The Mirrorstep

As recorded by the Silent Rhymer, Third Scribe of the Rift Archives

A Discord Beneath the Song

When Nokk visited the Brazen Burp, he expected drink and noise, not unraveling magic. But from the moment he heard Miss Terry perform, something felt off. Her voice still held its power—capable of rousing cheers or silencing a crowd—but underneath every note was a subtle instability. The chords stretched just a bit too far, like something inside her was pulling against the fabric of the world itself.

The Rift Below

She noticed it too. After her set, she pulled Nokk aside and led him down a hidden stair into the tavern’s old cellar. There, buried under kegs and stone, pulsed an open rift—unstable and humming, its energy flickering in rhythm with Nokk’s own wild magic. The rift wasn’t just reacting to him—it recognized him. It called to him, not like a voice, but like a memory. A reflection. Something familiar but not whole.

A Voice Without a Face

Through the breach, no creature passed—only a connection. A presence. The moment they approached, it felt like pieces of themselves stared back through the shimmering surface. There was no body, no face—just a sense of something incomplete. A phrase echoed from the breach, carried not by sound but by intent:

“Anchor me.”

From the rift fell a single object: a small, prismatic shard that shimmered with unstable potential. They later called it the Shard of the Fracture Keep, though they couldn’t have known what it truly was. It radiated with resonance, its rhythm laced with elements of both their magical signatures. Nokk, sensing the danger of leaving it unbound, tried to steady its power. But he didn’t act alone. Miss Terry joined him—touching the shard as he did—and in that moment, their magics tangled. The shard attuned not to one of them, but to both.

Echoes Between Selves

In the days that followed, things changed.

Terry’s songs shifted. Unfamiliar notes laced her performances—tunes she couldn’t remember writing. Nokk’s spells stuttered with strange harmonics, warping into forms he hadn’t studied. They began to dream in unison, seeing glimpses of people they’d never met: a confident bard cloaked in violet light who called herself Tyrra, and a quiet storm of a mage named Vexandem whose presence was unmistakably Nokk’s… and yet not.

At first, they thought they were losing themselves. But the visions weren’t fragments—they were messages. Invitations. Parts of something trying to become whole.

Their alternate selves

Eventually, they returned to the rift—this time prepared. Together, they stepped through, seeking the source. Inside, time folded and thought bent. The alter-ego's they had seen: Tyrra and Vexandem—weren’t just possibilities, they were real! Echoes of choices never made, versions shaped by resonance rather than fate.

The Birth of the Between

In that fractured space, their reflections aligned. And in that moment, something entirely new emerged—not a fusion, not a hybrid, but a being born between them. Its form was melody and storm, built from voice and volatility. It did not wear their faces, but it carried their signatures. A new self stepped into existence, forged not by accident, but by resonance. They would call it Vexyrra.

Tyrra and Vexandem faded, their purpose fulfilled. The rift snapped closed.

Changed, Not Returned

Nokk awoke back in the cellar, his heart racing. Miss Terry collapsed into his arms, the shard embedded in her chest now softly humming, no longer wild but still deeply alive. They had returned, but neither of them was the same.

Though Vexyrra remained behind, something of it lingered in both of them. Nokk’s dreams took on fractured rhythms, filled with echoes he couldn’t explain. Terry’s songs rang with chords that didn’t belong to this world. A connection still tied them to what they’d made—a tether not easily broken.

A Song Yet Unfinished

Across Iridia, others began to feel something similar. A resonance stirring in their magic. A hum beneath the surface of dreams. The world had shifted. Something had been born in the Mirrorstep.

And it remembers where it came from.