Tianmu: Eyes of Illusion

Lucas tested it in the library.

He figured no one would notice there. The place was half-abandoned—a relic from another decade. Broken vending machines. Flickering fluorescents. More ghosts than visitors.

He chose a quiet corner on the third floor, behind stacks of dusty Chinese folklore volumes. Sat cross-legged with the obsidian mirror laid out in front of him on the reading table. The pendant sat cold against his chest, pulsing gently, like it had a heartbeat.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

Focused.

And then, the world opened.

It wasn't a sudden change—more like someone slowly tuning a blurry picture into focus. The walls of the library shimmered faintly, becoming translucent. Not literally—but in his mind's eye, Lucas could now see something underneath them. Layers. Movement.

People had left traces—symbolic echoes. A librarian who once wept in the stairwell. A child who had hidden behind the tall shelves, humming softly to herself. Their presences glowed like faint afterimages.

And then there were the constructs.

Floating glyphs. Slowly rotating diagrams scrawled in impossible shapes, wrapped around a single idea: control.

Lucas reached toward one.

And it reacted.

It pulsed.

A glyph rearranged itself into a spiraling form and extended outward, folding around his hand like a glove. He felt it settle into his bones. Not painful—but heavy. Like carrying a weight in his thoughts.

Then, he heard footsteps.

A girl rounded the corner of the stacks—early twenties, messenger bag, earbuds in, scanning the shelves.

Lucas didn't move.

He tried something—just a whisper of thought. A push.

Forget I'm here.

The glyph on his hand shimmered. Reality bent around him, just slightly. The girl walked right past, gaze sliding over him like he was part of the furniture. She didn't even blink.

Lucas exhaled shakily.

The glyph dissolved.

But then he heard something else.

Not footsteps.

Breathing.

Not hers.

He turned.

Standing at the far end of the aisle was a man in a black coat, hood low over his eyes. He wasn't browsing. He wasn't looking for books.

He was looking directly at Lucas.

And Lucas felt it.

His mind recoiled. It wasn't just being watched—it was like something was peeling back the top of his skull and staring into him.

The man raised his hand.

And something invisible slammed into Lucas's chest.

He flew backward—hit the bookshelf hard, books tumbling around him. The girl screamed, dropping her bag.

But the moment she looked in Lucas's direction—she blinked.

Confused.

Then walked away. Like nothing had happened.

Lucas coughed, stumbled to his feet.

The man was still there.

Symbols burned on his gloves—ones Lucas didn't recognize. Sharp. Angular. Not like his flowing illusions. These were weapons.

"You opened the gate," the man said. His voice was steady. Cold. "You're not supposed to."

Lucas opened his mouth, but no words came.

The man raised a hand again.

Lucas panicked.

Hide.

Mirror. Mask. Memory.

The glyphs reacted. The pendant around his neck flared.

And the world folded.

To the man in the coat, the aisle seemed to shatter—books exploding outward, shelves falling in impossible angles. The library melted into a burning hallway. Screams echoed down it. Walls dripped with blood.

But none of it was real.

Lucas stood behind him, heart racing, pouring thought into illusion.

It's not real. He'll see through it.

Unless...

He focused harder. Details. Smell. Sound. Temperature.

And for a moment—it held.

The man staggered.

Lucas turned and ran.

Outside, Lucas stumbled into the rain, coughing, the pendant glowing hot against his skin. His vision blurred. His head ached like someone had taken a hammer to the inside of his skull.

The illusion had worked.

But barely.

And now, something else had seen it.

A whisper. Not words. Just intent.

Like something ancient had turned its gaze his way, curious now.

He'd lit a signal fire without knowing it.

Later, lying on his apartment floor in the dark, Lucas stared at the ceiling. The glyphs hadn't faded. Not this time. They stayed etched into his vision like scars.

He thought of what the man said:

"You're not supposed to."

Not supposed to see. Not supposed to use.

But it was too late now.

He had seen too much.

And something had seen him back.

Next chapter preview:

Chapter 5 – The Mask Society

A strange invitation arrives. Lucas is brought to a hidden gathering of practitioners—some friendly, some not. He learns that illusion magic, or Xingjue, is outlawed among most occult circles. But one masked figure offers him a choice: join them, or be hunted by all.