The light faded, leaving Azarion and Sera standing in a vast, shifting expanse. The ground beneath them was polished obsidian, reflecting their forms in perfect clarity. Around them, towering walls of glass rose into infinity, twisting and bending as though alive. Shadows danced across the surface of the walls, though there was no visible source of light.
"What is this place?" Sera whispered, her voice echoing unnaturally.
Azarion scanned their surroundings, his hand instinctively resting on his blade. "A labyrinth," he said grimly. "But it's more than that. It's alive."
Sera shivered, though the air wasn't cold. "Alive? What do you mean?"
Before Azarion could answer, a low hum filled the air, resonating through the glass walls. The reflections around them began to shift, moving independently of their actions. In the reflections, their mirrored selves drew weapons and stood in battle stances.
"That's not creepy at all," Sera muttered, raising her bow.
The reflections stepped out of the glass, solidifying into identical replicas of Azarion and Sera. Their eyes glowed with an eerie, silver light, and their movements were fluid yet unnatural, as if they were puppets controlled by an unseen force.
"Figures," Azarion said, unsheathing his blade. "A labyrinth wouldn't be complete without guardians."
One of the mirrored Azarions lunged forward, its blade glowing with the same golden light as the real one's. Azarion parried the attack, sparks flying as the weapons clashed.
"They're perfect copies," he said, gritting his teeth as he pushed the doppelgänger back. "Be careful—they know all our moves."
"Great," Sera said, dodging an arrow loosed by her reflection. "Does that mean we have to outthink ourselves? Because I'm not great at that."
The battle quickly descended into chaos. The mirrored Azarion was relentless, matching the real Azarion's every move with unnerving precision. Meanwhile, Sera found herself locked in a deadly game of cat and mouse with her doppelgänger, the two archers weaving between attacks in a deadly dance.
"They're not perfect," Azarion realized, blocking another strike. He noticed the reflection's form falter for a split second, its movements slightly slower than his own. "They're imitations. They mimic us, but they don't understand us."
"Well, that's comforting," Sera said, firing an arrow that grazed her copy's shoulder. "Got any ideas on how to use that to our advantage?"
"Exploit their limitations," Azarion replied. "Do something they won't expect."
Sera grinned. "Something unexpected? I can do that."
She suddenly dropped her bow and rushed at her reflection, tackling it to the ground. The move caught the doppelgänger off guard, and before it could recover, Sera drew a dagger from her belt and drove it into the copy's chest. The reflection dissolved into shards of light, vanishing into the air.
"One down!" Sera called out, retrieving her bow.
Azarion nodded, his focus shifting to his own opponent. He feinted a strike, causing the reflection to overcommit to its defense, then spun and delivered a powerful slash to its side. The copy staggered, its form flickering before collapsing into light.
The chamber fell silent, the echoes of the battle fading into the distance.
"Is it over?" Sera asked, scanning their surroundings warily.
"For now," Azarion replied, lowering his blade. "But this labyrinth isn't done with us yet."
---
As they moved deeper into the labyrinth, the walls began to shift and change, the reflections warping into strange, distorted images. Voices echoed through the corridors—faint whispers that seemed to come from every direction.
"Azarion…"
He froze. The voice was familiar, painfully so. It was soft, melodic, and filled with sorrow.
"Do you hear that?" Sera asked, her voice low.
Azarion nodded, his expression grim. "It's her."
"Her?"
Before he could explain, the corridor opened into a vast chamber. At its center stood a figure cloaked in shadows, her form barely visible through the darkness. The air around her shimmered, and the whispers grew louder.
"Azarion…" the figure said, her voice echoing. "You abandoned us. You abandoned me."
Azarion's grip on his blade tightened. "You're not real," he said coldly.
The figure stepped closer, her features becoming clearer. It was a woman, her face pale and ethereal, her eyes filled with tears. "Do you truly believe that? Or is this your guilt speaking?"
Sera looked between Azarion and the figure, confusion and concern etched on her face. "Azarion, who is she?"
"She's no one," he said, his tone clipped. "She's just another trick of this labyrinth."
The woman's expression softened, her tears glinting like diamonds in the dim light. "You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me. I know your heart, Azarion. I know the burden you carry."
Azarion raised his blade, pointing it at her. "You're not real," he repeated.
The woman smiled sadly. "If that's what you need to believe to move forward, then so be it. But know this: the truth will find you, no matter how far you run."
The figure dissolved into shadows, leaving the chamber empty once more.
---
Sera placed a hand on Azarion's shoulder. "Are you okay?"
He nodded, though his expression remained distant. "Let's keep moving."
Sera frowned but didn't press him further. She could tell the encounter had shaken him, though he would never admit it.
As they exited the chamber, the whispers faded, replaced by a low hum that grew louder with each step. The path ahead was clearer now, leading toward the heart of the labyrinth.
And at its center, Azarion knew, the next fragment awaited.