The air grew thick with tension as Drakar and his companions pressed deeper into the Hollow Bastion. The obsidian pillars stretched endlessly into the shadows above, their jagged edges carved with runes that seemed to writhe and pulse as if alive. Each step they took was met with an eerie silence—no sound of wildlife, no echo of their boots, only the oppressive hum of dark magic.
Vaelen held his staff high, its silver glow casting long, flickering shadows. Emberfang padded beside Drakar, his violet eyes gleaming in the dim light. The wolf-dragon's ears twitched at every faint whisper that drifted from the dark.
Seris's daggers were already in her hands as she walked in step with Elara. "I don't like this... the walls feel like they're breathing."
Elara's frost blade pulsed with a faint blue aura. "It's the wards. They've been corrupted. Stay close."
Kaelen trailed at the rear, his bow drawn and an arrow ready. He muttered, "If we get out of this alive, remind me never to trust a map marked 'forbidden.'"
Drakar's focus remained ahead. His emberlit tattoos pulsed faintly with heat, warding off the cold seeping from the shadows. "We're not turning back."
The Hall of Reflection
They reached a massive archway etched with shimmering runes that shifted from violet to deep crimson. Beyond the archway lay a circular chamber, its floor polished like black glass. The reflection of the ceiling's distant void gave the unnerving illusion of walking on air.
Vaelen paused, his eyes narrowing. "This is... a sanctum of trials."
Drakar stepped forward, his dagger held tightly. "A trial for what?"
Vaelen's voice was somber. "For those seeking passage to the inner sanctum. It will show us our weaknesses—our fears."
Elara's grip tightened on her sword. "No fear is stronger than our will."
Vaelen nodded but whispered a warning. "Beware... not all who see their reflection survive."
As they stepped into the chamber, the floor shimmered, and their reflections began to move independently, twisting and shifting until they formed fully independent silhouettes. They weren't just reflections—they were shadows made flesh.
Drakar's reflection smirked, its emberlit eyes blazing with malice. It drew an identical dagger, the emberlight warping into sickly green flames. "Do you think you're worthy of your power, Drakar?"
A Battle of Shadows
The shadow-forms lunged simultaneously. Drakar met his reflection's strike head-on, their blades clashing in a burst of emberlight and voidfire. The force of the impact sent vibrations through the floor.
Seris's doppelgänger moved like liquid smoke, matching her speed with frightening precision. "You've always doubted your place here," it hissed. "Afraid you'll never be more than a scout in the shadows."
Seris snarled, her daggers flashing as she countered. "I've faced worse doubts—and I'm still standing!"
Kaelen's reflection loosed spectral arrows that curved unnaturally through the air. Kaelen rolled to the side, returning fire with deadly accuracy. "You think you can outshoot me?" he growled. "You're just a pale imitation."
Elara's counterpart wielded a blade of shadowed frost, its chill cutting through the air. Their swords clashed, sending shards of ice flying. The shadow spoke with a cruel echo of her voice. "You couldn't save him, Elara. You never could."
Elara's frost-blue eyes blazed with defiance. "I wasn't meant to save the past... I'm here to shape the future."
The Weight of Truth
Drakar's muscles burned as he parried another strike from his reflection. The creature's movements were relentless, each attack forcing him to confront his doubts. It whispered in his mind, What if you're not strong enough? What if you're just another pawn destined to fall?
The Core Fragment at Drakar's side pulsed in response, a steady hum of warmth that drowned out the whispers. Remember who you are, it seemed to say.
With a roar, Drakar surged forward, twisting his dagger in a precise arc. His reflection's blade shattered, the emberlight within it consumed by Drakar's unwavering resolve. The shadow-Drakar let out a final, distorted scream before dissolving into mist.
One by one, the others overcame their reflections. Seris's daggers pierced through the heart of her shadow. Kaelen's arrows struck true, dispelling his doppelgänger into dust. Elara's frost blade cut through her counterpart, freezing it before it shattered like glass.
The chamber dimmed, the glassy floor now reflecting only their true forms.
Vaelen stepped forward, his expression heavy with relief. "You've passed the Trial of Reflection. Few ever do."
Drakar wiped sweat from his brow, his breath still ragged. "Then let's make sure it wasn't for nothing."
The Door of Echoes
At the far end of the chamber, a door of black iron inlaid with silver spirals began to glow. Whispering voices drifted from behind it, faint and mournful.
Vaelen frowned. "That door leads to the Echoing Vault. The records of everything that has ever happened within the Bastion."
Elara raised an eyebrow. "Why would the Dral'Thar keep records?"
Vaelen's gaze darkened. "Because they believe that all history will end the same way—with oblivion."
Drakar stepped toward the door, placing a hand against the cold metal. The whispers grew louder, but they no longer carried dread—only the echoes of stories long forgotten.
"We're not here to let their version of history define us," Drakar said firmly. "We're here to rewrite it."
The door swung open, revealing a spiraling staircase that led deeper into the Bastion's core. A faint, eerie glow pulsed from below.
Elara touched Drakar's arm briefly. "Whatever we find down there... we face it together."
Drakar nodded, the emberlight in his eyes unwavering. "Together."