Valen walked on, the dim light growing stronger with each step, as though it were drawing him in. He felt a pull, a strange compulsion that made him question everything. The figure's words echoed in his mind, haunting him like a shadow that refused to leave. "You will learn the hard way."
Was it true? Was he really destined to fail like those who came before him? Or was he, as he had always believed, different? Stronger?
The path before him opened into a small clearing, and as he stepped into the center, he halted, his breath catching in his throat. There, before him, was a pool of water, its surface perfectly still. It reflected the faint light around him, and for a moment, Valen saw his own face staring back at him.
But it wasn't the same face he was used to. It was twisted, distorted, a cold, hollow version of himself. His eyes were empty, like deep pits devoid of life, and his mouth twisted into a cruel, mocking grin. His reflection was not his own—it was the image of someone who had lost everything, someone consumed by despair.
Valen's pulse quickened. He reached out, his fingers trembling as they hovered over the surface of the water. The reflection mirrored his movements, but when his hand touched the water, it rippled, distorting the image.
"Is this what I've become?" Valen whispered to himself, the question a sharp ache in his chest. The twisted version of himself stared back, grinning wider as if relishing his pain.
"No," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm not like this."
The figure's words suddenly felt more real than ever. Was this what he was destined to become? Was this the truth he had been avoiding? The reflection seemed to grow more pronounced, more alive, and for a moment, Valen thought he saw it reach out from the pool, as if trying to pull him in.
But Valen stepped back, his hand still outstretched. His heart pounded as he fought the rising panic within him. He couldn't let this reflection define him. He wouldn't let it.
With a deep breath, Valen drew his sword and raised it high. The blade caught the light, glinting like a beacon of defiance. He wasn't going to let the shadows of his past control him. Not now, not ever.
"I am not you," Valen said, his voice growing steadier. "I am not some twisted version of myself."
With one swift motion, he plunged the sword into the pool. The water splashed violently, sending ripples across the surface, distorting the reflection even more. The dark image of himself wavered and then began to fade, disappearing as though it had never been there at all.
Valen stood there, chest heaving, his hand still gripping the sword. The clearing around him remained silent, save for the soft sound of the water settling back into its original stillness. But the silence felt different now. Less oppressive. More peaceful.
He lowered his sword slowly, his heart still racing. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Valen felt something shift within him. The weight that had been pressing down on his shoulders, the suffocating doubt, had lifted—if only a little. He had faced the reflection of his deepest fears and emerged unscathed.
But there was no time to rest.
As the water settled, the light around him grew brighter, casting long shadows across the clearing. The path beyond the pool stretched forward, disappearing into the mist. Valen knew that the journey was far from over. If anything, it was only just beginning. But now, more than ever, he understood something fundamental: he was not defined by his past. He was not bound by his mistakes or the twisted versions of himself that haunted his every step.
Valen clenched his fists, determination welling up inside him. He had a long road ahead. And no reflection, no matter how dark, would ever stop him from walking it.
With renewed resolve, he turned and stepped forward, the mist parting once more as he walked deeper into the unknown.
Whatever awaited him, he would face it head-on.