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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.



This was the final room, aside from the giftshop perhaps, that Alpena-Amberley would visit, and perhaps where he spent the longest time. Little objects, so simple and mundane at times, yet there was a melancholy that came with looking at them for too long. No, perhaps not melancholy, but definitely a feeling of... The Welsh had a specific word for it, didn't they?

'Hiraeth.'

Yes, that's what it was. It was a bittersweet, profound yearning for a home, person, place, or time that is irretrievably lost or perhaps never even existed. Beyond simple homesickness, the term carries heavy cultural and historical resonance, often tied to identity, lost traditions, and the passage of time.

Each object left him with that heavy feeling. There were few physical things he could think of in his own life that left such a feeling. Indeed - he had led quite a blessed life. Especially in comparison to his brothers. Sadness.....had rarely touched him. Perhaps it was why he was so bad at dealing with conflict or negativity....

As he moved on from one object or another, he eventually came to stand before one entitled the "Reflecting Pool." It was a fountain of silver mercury-like liquid, yet despite the waterfall of silver, the water was still and mirror-like. Alpena-Amberly looked into the mirror surface, a feeling of trepidation in his heart. As if hypnotized he stared until the reflection of himself blurred and the area around him transformed into a place that now only existed in his memory.

Marks was only 5 when the second greatest tragedy for his family would happen. The first would have been his parent's death when he was just an infant. The second? His oldest brother's kidnapping. At the time, he hadn't known anything was truly as horrifically amiss as it was. Everyone had hid it from him quite well, but now in the eyes and mind of a 30 year old who found himself reliving things in his five year old self's body....

He could see the cracks in the facade and he wondered - in this memory-universe, could he change things? Was he stuck here, just to relive things through an older perspective, like watching a TV show, or could he have an effect and maybe....maybe see an alternative ending?

He wasn't dumb though - he knew if a 5 year old child just came out with the information, he'd either not be believed, or if he was, there would be a lot of questions. So he needed to think of a way to point them in the right direction without drawing suspicion.

It was at that moment, as he was sat at the dinner table, with arts and craft supplies that were meant to keep him distracted, that a young 13 year old Recks came in, slumped in to an adjacent chair, and buried his head in his arms which were crossed on top of the table.

An adult wouldn't believe him, but his brother would. But he knew from past conversations how horrible the cops had been to Recks - blaming him for everything, convinced he had a role to play in the disappearance of Dom. If suddenly he were to go to the cops with information from his five year old brother, then those suspicions would still be there, and stronger. Even worse, that suspicion may never fully go away like they eventually did originally.

Marks thought deeply on everything, all the what-ifs and what-nots. Then Recks looked over at his little brother, eyes red-rimmed, but he tried to hide it with a delicate smile and ruffled young Marks' hair.

"Hey, what's got you making such a serious face, huh?"

Marks felt an odd feeling - this was something he'd never get to experience again, save for in an odd memory-universe scenario such as this. It hurt to think about, so he savored the moment, bittersweet as it was, and played the part of the five year old little brother just to experience those feelings of being a child again.

Recks and he indulged in some art. For Recks, it was partly to get his mind off of things - impossible, but he was trying - and partly to distract his little brother. And it was during that that the idea came to Marks - this was how he could help change things!

Marks was never very good at drawing, but what he could do now was better than could be expected of a five year old, and what he drew - dark woods, a broken down barn and five crudely drawn figures. Marks couldn't remember what the boys had looked like, just that there had been five of them. It looked scary and ominous, which is what made Recks raise a brow;

"What are you drawing this for?"

"They took him there," Marks replied, trying his best to play the part of 'creepy little kid in a psychological horror film'

Reck's face darkened, "Who?"

Marks was about to give a vague answer when someone else entered the room. Recks snatched the drawing and shoved it in to his pocket, and put a finger over his lips to hush Marks. The person who had entered was their grandmother, who set about making them dinner in an uncomfortable fake-cheery manner, though her actions were sharp, frantic, and shaky. Recks went to help her, and Marks, well, he went back to drawing.

The memory-verse, now changed from canon events, shifted to later that night, he and Recks were hiking through dense forest. Apparently Recks had looked at the picture Marks had drawn and recalled a place that was kind of hushed gossip around his peers - a place you might be sent to on a dare because it was supposedly haunted. That sort of spooky stuff. There was a group of five boys - real terrors amongst their class, who boasted going there often. Recks could have gone alone, but Marks had caught him sneaking out and wouldn't let him leave without him.

"Aren't you afraid what the cops will think?" Marks asked.

"Having our brother home will be worth all the accusation," was the 13 year old Recks' reply. He wasn't sure what had gotten in to his little brother, why he seemed to know so much, but if it could bring his other brother home, he'd take anything. Of course, the thought that maybe Marks was secretly able to commune with ghosts and that his brother was dead and had contacted him had crossed through his mind (Recks really had to lay off the horror films...) he prayed that wasn't so. Of course, it would raise even more questions if that wasn't the case, but he didn't really care. Getting Dom back was all that mattered. And ******** the cops. They already thought he had something to do with this.

The memory again shifted, and Marks really wished it would stop doing that so he knew just how they had arrived at this point, but there the three of them were, dirty, exhausted, the light of early dawn prickling at their backs as they made their way in the front door of their home.

Instead of a month, Dom had only been missing for two days. He hadn't been exposed to even half the torture he would have endured - wouldn't wake up in a morgue, and Recks wouldn't be subjected to weeks of severe questioning by police, or torment from his peers. The rift that would have been made between his two big brothers would not exist - if anything, they were all even closer.

It was from there that Marks would see glimpses of how his actions would change this future, and oh how sweet it was.

When Marks was back to himself, in present time, in the real timeline, he found himself lost. The reality he was a part of now was sweet too, but he couldn't help but think he would occasionally think on that non-existent version of things and long for it. Hiraeth - homesickness for a time to which you cannot return, a time which maybe never was.

“As my wings bring back home, my soul calls out to the next adventure. Where will I find my heart next time or how far would I be willing to go?” Alpena-Amberley recited the words he'd heard in a poem once as he took a step back from the reflection pool.

This timeline may remain unchanged, but he was not. He'd always find himself longing for a time that never was.