Ren. “Given your reputation, that knowledge doesn’t instill much confidence in me.”
“Just hear her out.”
“I don’t need to,” Zhen said sharply. “She’s not going to pass the Chamber of Mirrors.”
“How do you know if you don’t give me a chance?” interrupted Mulan. “Please. If we can’t leave Diyu, Captain Li Shang will die.”
“And she will be trapped here forever,” Shang added. “As a demon.”
Mulan watched Zhen make a face. The possibility of anyone turning into a demon seemed to strike a chord in him. She straightened, leveling her gaze at him. “So, I ask you…is the Chamber of Mirrors the way out of Diyu?”
Zhen tapped his fingers on the end of his tail. “I’ve heard about your story, soldier. You and your friends battled many demons to get here—even defeated Huoguai. But in the Chamber of Mirrors, you only battle the demons within.” He poked her in the arm. “Very few have come out alive, least of all victorious.”
A chill rippled down Mulan’s spine. A battle against herself? How could that even be possible?
“I want to go in,” she said, determined.
Zhen peered at her. She stared back, unwilling to give up.
“Interesting.” Finally, the shopkeeper let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Fine, I’ll let you inside. But be warned…the chamber was constructed with powerful magic. It will only let you out when it deems you are ready.”
Mulan nodded, and Zhen widened the door behind him a notch so she could slip inside.
“Only she can pass,” Zhen said, blocking Shang and ShiShi from entering.
“I’m going with her,” insisted Shang.
Zhen shook his head. “Apologies, Captain, but these are the rules. There’s an inn down the street that makes quite passable soup dumplings and serves spirits as well as guardians. You’ll have a while to stay, I understand.”
“It’ll be fine,” Mulan reassured him.
“I don’t like this,” said Shang. “What if it’s a trick?”
“It isn’t.”
“No weapons,” Zhen said brusquely, gesturing at the sword hanging at her side.
She swallowed and untied her sword, placing it in Zhen’s waiting hands.
“You should say your goodbyes,” he said, unsmiling.
Mulan frowned and faced ShiShi, Ren, and Shang. The captain’s teeth were gritted, and his fists clenched.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, her gaze lingering a touch longer on Shang. I hope.
Without another word, Mulan slid open the wooden door and went inside.
Her heart hammering, she entered the Chamber of Mirrors. Faint bursts of light flickered above her, dancing in a soft wave—like those lights she had seen on the Bridge of Helplessness!
As soon as she reached up to try to touch the lights, the door thudded behind her and locked with a click.
She whirled around.
Zhen was gone. So was the door she’d just entered. And the lights that had welcomed her into the chamber vanished, plunging her deep into darkness.
She was trapped.
Trying to remain calm, Mulan took three careful steps deeper into the chamber. So far, there were no hissing rocks, sprawling trees, or golden pavilions in the distance. No, for once the chamber was an actual room, one long and hollow enough for the sound of her footsteps and breathing to echo when she moved. Except, from the looks of it, there was no way out.
Seconds passed, and her apprehension grew. Inside the chamber was dark as a winter’s night, so she couldn’t tell how large or deep it was. She blindly stretched out her hands, walking until she touched a wall. It was smooth and cold, like glass. She bent down. The floor was glass, too.
Mirrors, she realized as her sight slowly adjusted to the dark. Mirrors surrounded her from the ceiling to the walls to the floor. Yet not one of them reflected her.
Come in, the mirrors whispered. Come closer. Closer.
“Who are you?” she said aloud. “Show yourself. I’m ready.”
The voices laughed, then grew in strength and number. Are you, now?
No one is ready. Not even you, Fa Mulan.
Mulan spun. There was no one in the room with her. Only herself—and the mirrors.
She grimaced. Was this a game?
“Where are you?”
Inside, the voices beckoned. Come closer. Look into our eyes. Then we can begin.
She couldn’t pinpoint any particular mirror the voices were coming from, but a soft brown light emanated from one to her left. It was shaped like a tomb and reminded Mulan of the graves in her family’s ancestral temple. A thin stripe of bronze embellished the edges of the mirror, and as she approached, the glass clouded and swirled.
Mulan’s father appeared. He leaned on his cane, and when