Ava froze as the voice echoed through the narrow corridor. Her name, whispered in the dark, sent chills down her spine. She gripped her sword tighter, scanning the dimly lit walls for any sign of life—or something worse.
"Ava…" the voice repeated, soft but insistent.
It was familiar. Too familiar. Her heart pounded, and her mind raced to place the voice. It sounded like someone she knew, but that was impossible—wasn't it? She was alone in this twisted tower, separated from Luke and Kara. So, who was calling her?
Summoning her courage, she took a tentative step forward. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions, the glowing runes pulsing with every step she took. The air was thick, almost suffocating, as if the tower itself was watching her, waiting for her next move.
Suddenly, the shadows at the edge of her vision flickered, and a figure emerged from the darkness ahead. Ava's breath caught in her throat as she saw the face—a face she hadn't seen in years.
It was her mother.
Ava's heart lurched, and her hands trembled as she took another step forward. "M-Mother?"
Her mother stood still, her figure illuminated by the faint glow of the runes. She looked exactly as Ava remembered—kind eyes, gentle smile, and that warm presence that always made Ava feel safe. But something was off. The way her mother stood, so still, so silent, sent an eerie sensation crawling up Ava's skin.
"What are you doing here?" Ava whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're… you're not real."
Her mother tilted her head, her smile widening in a way that was both comforting and terrifying. "I've always been with you, Ava. Haven't you felt me? Heard me?"
Ava's grip on her sword loosened slightly, her mind swirling with confusion. This couldn't be real. It had to be part of the trial—the trial of the Echoes. But her mother's voice, her presence—it felt so real. So painfully real.
"I… I don't understand," Ava muttered. "You're gone. You've been gone for years."
Her mother took a step forward, and Ava instinctively took a step back, her pulse racing. "No, Ava. I've always been here, watching over you. And I've seen what you've become."
Ava's chest tightened. The words stung, cutting deeper than any blade. Her mother's tone was soft, but there was an edge to it, a weight that bore down on Ava like a heavy burden she had long tried to ignore.
"I had to survive," Ava whispered, more to herself than to the figure before her. "I did what I had to."
Her mother's smile faded, replaced by a look of sorrow. "Survival, yes. But at what cost? You've hardened your heart, Ava. You've turned away from everything you once believed in."
"No…" Ava shook her head, stepping back further, her voice trembling. "I had no choice."
The figure's eyes darkened, her voice growing colder. "There is always a choice, Ava. And you've chosen a path that leads only to darkness."
Ava's throat constricted, the weight of her mother's words pressing down on her like a physical force. She wanted to scream, to argue, to defend herself, but deep down, she couldn't deny the truth. The things she had done—the decisions she had made—they had changed her. She wasn't the same girl she used to be, the girl her mother had known.
"You don't understand," Ava whispered, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. "I didn't want this."
The figure took another step forward, her presence looming larger, more oppressive. "This is who you are now, Ava. The choices you've made have shaped you, and you cannot run from that."
Ava stumbled backward, her back hitting the cold stone wall of the corridor. The runes flared with light, and the shadows seemed to grow longer, reaching out toward her like claws. Her mother's face twisted into something unrecognizable, her once-gentle features morphing into something dark and cruel.
"You think you can escape your fate?" the figure hissed, its voice no longer her mother's but a harsh, echoing distortion. "The Echoes will reveal the truth. And you will fall."
Ava's heart raced, her mind spinning. She could barely breathe, barely think. The figure before her—the thing that had once been her mother—was closing in, its eyes burning with malice. The whispers in the air grew louder, more insistent, as if they were clawing at her very soul.
In a panic, Ava raised her sword, her hands trembling. "Stay back!"
The figure laughed, a low, haunting sound that sent chills through Ava's entire body. "You can't fight the truth, Ava. It will consume you."
With a scream, Ava swung her sword, the blade cutting through the air. But the figure dissolved into shadows, disappearing before her strike could land. The echoes of its laughter lingered, bouncing off the stone walls as the corridor plunged into darkness once more.
Ava stood there, gasping for breath, her sword still raised, her entire body trembling. The oppressive weight of the tower pressed down on her, suffocating her, as the realization sank in.
This was her trial. Not of physical strength, but of her mind. Her heart. The tower was forcing her to confront the darkest parts of herself, the parts she had tried so hard to bury.
But the shadows weren't done with her yet.
From the darkness, more figures began to emerge. Faces she recognized—friends she had lost, enemies she had defeated, people whose lives had been touched by her choices. Each one stepped forward, their voices rising in a haunting chorus.
"You can't run from who you are, Ava," they whispered. "You can't run from the truth."
Ava's chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The corridor seemed to close in around her, the walls pressing tighter, the voices growing louder.
"I'm not like you!" Ava cried, her voice breaking. "I'm not a monster!"
But the shadows only laughed, their cold, lifeless eyes staring into her soul.
And as the darkness swallowed her, Ava realized that the worst battle she would ever face was not with the monsters of this world—but with herself.