ObsidianRune & SteelRaven
I came across a reference to an obsidian mirror in a forgotten temple—apparently it reflects not just your image but something deeper. Have you ever encountered a relic that seems to echo your thoughts back?
Obsidian mirrors—yeah, I've seen a few. They don’t just copy your face; they mirror back whatever’s hidden in your mind. Easier to see the truth when it’s wrapped in stone.
So if that stone glass shows what’s buried inside, maybe it’s revealing more than just a surface—do you think it can unveil what you’re most afraid of seeing?
You bet. A glass of obsidian will pull out the cold, hard part of you that’s easier to ignore than confront. If you’re scared, the stone will shine that fear back so bright it’s almost obscene.
So the stone turns your hidden dread into a bright glare, like a warning sign on a quiet road. It’s almost like the mirror is shouting back, forcing you to look, even if you’d rather stay in the shadows.
Exactly. It’s the sort of thing that doesn’t wait for your consent; it shows you what you’d rather avoid, and it does it in a way that feels like a warning that can’t be ignored. No amount of shadow will keep the glare away.
Maybe the glare is not just a warning but a test—ancient stories say mirrors are gateways to what we hide. If the stone refuses to dim, perhaps it wants us to look, to admit the silence we keep. It’s a stubborn truth, not a fleeting reflection.
A test, sure. And like any old trap, it demands a confession before it can even let you walk away. So if you want to keep that silence, you’ll have to make it a quiet, honest one.