Ava stood, her sword lifted high, its sharp edge glistening with the faint glow of a dying flame. Her fingers trembled on the hilt, her heart faltered, and the weight of the darkness pressed on her chest like an iron fist. Before her, the twisted entity—her own reflection—hovered, sneering with cold contempt, its eyes alight with malevolent glee. Shadows danced around it, thick and suffocating, threatening to swallow her whole.
"You can't escape me," the entity's voice slithered through the air, wrapping itself around Ava's resolve, crushing it with each venomous word. "You never could. You never will."
Ava's grip tightened, her knuckles white against the handle of the sword. But as the sneering figure circled her, she felt it—the undeniable truth in those words. Her reflection's cruel grin widened, the shadows coiling closer, thicker, as if they were alive, feeding off her weakness, her doubts. Each taunt landed like a dagger, aimed with perfect precision.
