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Room 4: The Reflection Pool - This gallery feels strangely intimate compared to the others. Rather than towering skeletons or impossible machines, its displays are filled with ordinary things, each carefully preserved beneath crystal glass. A well-worn sword with a cracked leather grip rests beside a child's wooden toy. Nearby, a faded wedding dress stands upon a mannequin, opposite a pair of spectacles folded atop a handwritten journal whose pages have yellowed with age. A chipped teacup, a musician's instrument, an embroidered blanket, a half-finished carving, pressed flowers, letters tied neatly with ribbon--none appear remarkable on their own, yet each has been displayed with the same care as the museum's grandest treasures. Their placards are sparse, often recording only a name, a place, or a single date. These things would have been unremarkable in the hands of their owners, yet time has rendered them extraordinary. Somehow, each survived when countless others did not, preserved long after those who treasured them have been lost to time.

There is a quietness to the room unlike anywhere else in the museum. Those who linger near an object may find themselves overcome with the faintest impression of its history--not visions so much as feelings, fleeting glimpses of laughter, grief, triumph, routine, or love, as though the memories that shaped these ordinary possessions had never quite faded. Whether these impressions are the work of ancient magic or simply the imagination is impossible to say, but visitors often find themselves lingering far longer than they intended. In the center of the room is a strange fountain, with silver liquid that runs like water, but looks like mercury. Despite the miniature waterfall, the water is still, creating an almost perfect mirror.

A placard says 'Reflection Pool', but there's more to it than that--and anyone who looks within it will find out why. The pool has a hypnotizing effect, drawing the viewer into an old memory. Guests may accompany them into this memory, but it is a deeply personal experience. The magic will pull them into a defining moment of their life where they experienced a critical failure or other impactful moment that lingers in their memory. Through this magic, they have the opportunity to confront this experience again, as they are now instead of as they were then. Though this is a hallucination, it is incredibly realistic and can last for a few minutes. Though it forces conflict, it can result in a great catharsis. The reflection pool can only give access to a memory you have from your present life, so no past life memories, forgotten side swapped memories, or memories you haven't unlocked. This can be used as a battle requirement, regardless of the memory; the character simply needs to confront a difficult moment in the past. Your character does not need to be powered in this memory and does not need to engage in real physical combat. This memory is an illusion and can distort wildly. While the past cannot change, the illusion can reveal an alternate future if the path had been different. The illusion will only last for a few minutes; if visiting as a group, each may experience their own individual illusions, or they may be sucked into one person's illusion together, or they may arrive in a combined illusion formed from each of them. A person cannot be harmed in this illusion. There isa warning posted by the pool that cautions against looking too deeply, but below that is a note: We are all defined by the small moments in our lives.


Fang had not anticipated how little interest he would have in the entire museum visit, but he had felt like he could not miss the chance to see if maybe something might spark his interest. After all, he was struggling to find good records back on his home planet. Their people had simply been traditionally oral.

None of them had ever expected that all of them would die out so suddenly.

It was possible there were writings buried somewhere, but Fang wasn't finding anything. However... He wasn't looking all that closely—he was spending most of his time exploring the planet and seeking out the animals that had slowly returned to his home. He'd yet to see any of the titular Chrysocyon from which his magic was themed; the most important animal to the star of Fang just... had not returned. His heart ached for that.

After scouting the museum and determining there hadn't been any writings he could recognize as Fangan, he scurried off to the strange reflecting pool. The room had several seemingly random objects that held his curiosity for a moment or two, vague impressions memories of memories dancing at the back of his mind as he stood by them, which he found at least mildly interesting. But the thing that drew his attention the most was the pool itself in the room.

He stepped close, reading the sign. It cautioned against looking too deeply, which he snorted at, though he tended to agree it was the small moments by which one was truly defined. Big moments were all well and good, but anyone could look good or bad in a big moment. The small things were what carried with the people who mattered most.

Despite the warning, he looked deep into the pool.

The memory began without warning.

"Time go, Todd," his mother, Eugênia, called from the main room of their modest home.

Todd rushed from his little bedroom, already dressed in his ceremonial clothes, eager to perform the coming-of-age dance for his older cousin. He loved a big party like this, and he'd been practicing the dance all week to make sure he wouldn't make a mistake. he didn't want to disappoint Cleiton.

"Good," Eugênia said when she saw him. "Paint face ceremony, not now."

Todd nodded his understanding and practically skipped along beside her as she started to lead him to the wide open area in the cerrado grassland their small village used for all their ceremonial events.

It wasn't long before the smell hit them.

Rot. Decay. Death.

Todd was no stranger to the smell. He helped a lot with hunting, and often came across the leftover carcasses from other predators hunting across the grasslands. But the sheer density of it overwhelmed his sensitive nose and he whined, stopping to rub at it. "Wrong," he said.

Eugênia also stopped, her ears swiveling back and forth to catch the sounds. "Very wrong," she agreed.

The sounds drew closer, as did the smell, and then they appeared. The shambling corpses.

Eugênia immediately turned Todd around. "Run," she urged, nudging him. "Now!"

He obeyed. His mother stayed beside him as they moved eastward, towards the ocean—but more importantly, towards the rainforest. There would be much to hide behind and around in there. Their orange and brown clothes would blend with the dirt and dappled light from the above to protect them.

It wasn't long before Eugênia picked Todd up so she could get them there faster, running as fast as she could from the new predators seeking fresh meats.

The only problem was that she held him so that he faced behind them.

"Cleiton," he recognized. "Mama. Cleiton wrong!"

"Mama know, Todd. No look," she told him sharply, and he ducked his head.

Soon enough, they were in the forest, and his mother kept sprinting as long as she could hold out, the scent of the Wrong People close no matter how far they ran. After a few more minutes, Eugênia stopped and stashed Todd in a thicket of dense ferns, layering his exposed skin with mud as fast as she could.

"Stay, Túlio," she said firmly. "Safe. No follow."

She only used his actual name when she was serious, Todd knew. He'd heard the story before, about how he couldn't pronounce his own name at all when he was younger, leading to him being called Todd. Hearing Túlio now had him holding very, very still. He'd be a good boy for his mama.

Eugênia sprinted away and began yelling, drawing the Wrong People away from where Todd lay hidden.

He heard more than saw what came next. He shut his eyes tightly so the whites of them wouldn't give him away from where he lay in the dirt and plants. Eugênia screamed. A lot. The smell of the decay was thick in the air, the sounds of the Wrong People all over the place, surrounding him, drawn in by whatever they could sense of him.

But his mother's trick worked. Long after the sounds of tearing flesh and Eugênia's screams faded, he lay still and quiet, not moving, barely even breathing, as the Wrong People shuffled away. Even after he couldn't hear or smell them anymore, he did not move.

Stay. Safe. No follow.

He knew his mother was dead. That she'd sacrificed herself to save him.

He hoped it would not be in vain.

Night eventually fell. The normal sounds of the rainforest finally returned. Bugs and birds buzzing and chirping away. No more Wrong People. No predators. Nothing hunting. Safe. Slowly, he shifted, carefully listening for anything that might indicate he was safe no longer. Nothing came.

Todd stood and began walking deeper into the forest. He had to find shelter.


Eventually, he would find safety as he crossed back to the cerrado, Fang knew, but the memory the reflecting pool forced to the surface ceased at that moment. Gasping and clutching his chest, he stumbled away and fell to his knees. His entire body shook, and his lungs wheezed with the effort breathing took.

He wasn't sure how he didn't black out from the sharp pain of the memory. He just knew that... he was awake. And in pain. And after a few agonizing moments, he forced himself to stand and leave the room. He needed... something. He didn't know what. Just to be away from here. But he didn't want to go back to his home on Earth. Not yet. But he couldn't be in this room anymore.

Fang had never wanted to remember that night in such sharp relief ever again.