As Elara peered into the silver depths, the reflection did not immediately form an image. Instead, the pool darkened, swirling with shadows. A chilling silence filled the chamber as the mist coiled around her, almost as if the sanctum itself was holding its breath.
Then, from the darkness, a figure began to emerge—a mirror of Elara herself, but with an aura twisted and corrupted, eyes gleaming with raw, unchecked power. The reflection smirked, an unsettling sight against the soft contours of Elara's face, and spoke in a voice layered with venom and sorrow. "You fear your own strength, don't you? Afraid that one day, it will consume you—and everyone you love."
Elara's face tightened, but she didn't look away. "I am not afraid of power. I know its weight, and I bear it carefully."
