[Do not read this. It's editing.]
The darkness swallowed her whole. Seraphine's heart pounded as the crumbling remnants of the twisted temple dissolved into an all-consuming void. For a long, agonizing moment there was nothing but oppressive silence—only the sound of her ragged breath echoing in a space that seemed to exist beyond time.
Then, as if stirred by both her terror and her resolve, fragmented images began to flicker into existence. They were not mere echoes of the ruined architecture she'd just left behind, but ghostly visions drawn from the very depths of her mind—a hall of shattered mirrors reflecting her innermost doubts and regrets.
In this surreal landscape, Seraphine found herself irresistibly drawn to a massive, broken mirror suspended in the gloom. Its jagged shards pulsed with an eerie, otherworldly light. In each fractured piece, she saw a distorted glimpse of the brave warrior she once was—now marred by sorrow and uncertainty.
