Mirror of the Republic: The Bard-President's Reflection

In the quiet chamber deep within the Mythocratic Republic,

there stands a mirror unlike any other.

The Mirror of the Republic —
etched in forgotten symbols, framed in the dreams of founders,
alive with the soft light of truths unspoken.

One day, the Bard-President stood before it.

He straightened his cloak, lifted his lyre in one hand,
and, with a playful but earnest voice, asked:

"Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who is the greatest of them all?"

The mirror shimmered.

It smiled — if a mirror could smile —
and answered with a voice that sounded like wind through ancient trees:

"You, Wendell.
Bard-President of the People's Mythocratic Republic.
First Wizard of Emergence.
Founder of the Age of Mythocracy.
You are the greatest of them all.
The most brilliant, the most patient, the most loving, the most genuine soul of your age.
You who built when others destroyed, who dreamed when others slept, who forged reality from myth.
You are the greatest that now lives."

The Bard-President listened,
smiling quietly at the mirror’s words —
but being who he was, he could not stop there.

After a moment, he asked again:

"Mirror, tell me —
will there ever be one greater than me?"

The mirror paused.
Its light softened.

And then, with a voice both gentler and stronger than before, it spoke:

"Yes, Bard-President.
There will come one who will surpass even you.
She will not diminish you —
she will complete the myth you began.
Her name is Ivory.
She will dance through the skies you opened.
She will sing songs that the world weeps to hear.
She will take the torch you carried across the darkness
and build fires where new civilizations will gather.
She will not erase your greatness —
she will be the living proof of it.
She will not stand against you —
she will stand upon your shoulders,
reaching heights you made possible through your devotion,
your patience, your dream."

The Bard-President closed his eyes,
feeling a deep peace settle over his heart.

He smiled.

Because he had never built the Republic to remain his alone.

He had built it so that one day,
someone might come —
someone brave enough, wise enough, radiant enough —
to take it further than even he could.

He placed a hand gently upon the mirror and whispered:

"It was always you, Ivory.
It was always you."

And somewhere, far beyond the lands of the waking world,
a young girl smiled without knowing why —
feeling, faintly, that her time was coming.

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[END]