Or so he had thought.
“You don’t look like a monster,” the guard said suddenly.
He hadn’t meant to speak, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.
Elias glanced up from the mirror.
“What does a monster look like?” he asked.
The guard opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
Elias nodded. “Neither do I.”
He lowered the mirror slightly, though his eyes remained fixed on it.
“They called me hollow,” he said. “Said there was nothing inside. No feeling. No soul.”
He paused.
“I believed them.”
The hours passed.
Occasionally, someone would come by—the warden, a priest, another guard—but Elias spoke little. His attention remained anchored to the mirror, as though he were searching for something buried deep within his own reflection.
At one point, the priest approached the bars, hands clasped.
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