Jon tensed as the shadowy figure stepped forward, its presence filling the chamber with a palpable sense of dread. The air around it seemed to ripple and warp, the cold growing more intense with every step it took. As it drew closer, the dark tendrils that emanated from the shard began to writhe more violently, as if in response to the figure's presence.
"You should have stayed away, half-breed," the figure hissed, its voice filled with disdain. "You cannot comprehend the power that lies within the mirror, nor can you hope to challenge me."
Jon's grip tightened on his sword, his muscles tensing in preparation for what he knew was coming. "I don't need to understand it," he growled. "I'm here to destroy it."
The figure laughed, a hollow, echoing sound that made the walls of the chamber seem to tremble. "Destroy? You fool. You are but a speck of dust before the storm. This mirror has endured for centuries, and its power grows with each passing moment."
Without another word, the figure raised a hand, and the shadows in the room surged forward like a tidal wave. Dark shapes materialized from the corners of the chamber—twisted, grotesque forms with elongated limbs and eyes that glowed with a sickly light. They moved with an unnatural speed, their claws scraping against the stone as they rushed toward Jon.
Jon reacted instantly, his sword slicing through the air in a wide arc. The blade cut through the first of the shadow-creatures with ease, its crimson glow burning through their insubstantial forms. But for every creature he struck down, two more seemed to take its place, their twisted bodies reforming from the darkness itself.
The figure watched from a distance, its burning eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "You cannot win, swordsman. The shadows are endless. The mirror will consume you, as it has consumed so many before."
Jon gritted his teeth, his muscles straining as he fought off the onslaught of creatures. He couldn't keep this up forever. There were too many of them, and the oppressive magic in the air was draining his strength faster than he'd anticipated. He needed a way to end this—now.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind, clear and strong despite the chaos around him.
"Jon," Isolde's voice called to him. "Let me help you."
Jon hesitated for a fraction of a second. He had never allowed anyone—living or dead—to tap into his mind, his soul. But this was different. Isolde wasn't just some spirit. She had been trapped in this darkness for centuries, and her power, her knowledge, could tip the balance in his favour.
"Do it," he thought fiercely, feeling a spark of hope amid the crushing despair.
As if sensing his resolve, Isolde's presence surged through him, filling his mind with clarity and strength. "Focus on the source, Jon. The shard! It's what binds them. If you can disrupt it, you can break the hold these shadows have over this place!"
With newfound determination, Jon refocused his gaze on the shard at the altar. The swirling darkness seemed to throb in time with his heartbeat, each pulse echoing like a war drum in his ears. The shadows around him continued to attack, but with Isolde guiding his thoughts, he began to see patterns in their movements—patterns that he could exploit.
He executed a swift spin, dodging a claw swipe from a shadow creature. With a burst of speed, he lunged toward the altar, narrowly avoiding another attack. The air around him crackled with energy, a manifestation of Isolde's spirit rallying behind him. He could feel her presence merging with his own, granting him strength and focus.
As he reached the base of the altar, he raised his greatsword high, feeling the weight of it steadied by Isolde's ethereal support.
"To break the darkness!" he shouted, his voice resonating with power.
He brought the sword down with a mighty swing, aiming not for the shadowy creatures, but for the shard itself. The blade connected with the altar, sending a shockwave of energy rippling through the chamber. The dark shard vibrated violently, the shadows recoiling from its pulsing core as if repelled by a force they could not withstand.
"Yes! Keep going!" Isolde urged, her voice a steadying whisper in his mind. "You can do this, Jon!"
The moment the blade struck the shard, a blinding flash of blue light erupted, engulfing the chamber. Jon squinted against the glare, but he didn't relent. He struck again and again, each swing of his sword amplifying the brilliance until the darkness around him began to dissipate, the twisted forms of the shadow creatures dissolving into nothingness.
The figure of the dark entity screeched in rage, its burning eyes wide with disbelief. "No! You cannot—!"
But it was too late. With one final, powerful blow, Jon shattered the shard into a million glittering fragments that scattered like stars, illuminating the chamber with a radiant glow. The shadows screamed as they were torn apart by the surge of light, the dark magic unraveling like a tapestry in flames.
As the light consumed everything, Jon felt a weight lift from his soul. The oppressive darkness that had haunted him for so long began to fade, replaced by a warm, inviting glow. He took a deep breath, feeling the air clear around him, purged of the lingering malevolence.