The mirrored floor dulled, it wasn't sudden, as nothing in this place did anything suddenly, not unless it involved violence. It was more like the reflections were done with mimicking us, like the dungeon had seen what it wanted to see and decided we were no longer worth the energy.
All of our mirrored selves shuddered before collapsing inward with a ripple of colorless light. There was no sound, no fanfare, just an unraveling of presence, like they'd never been real at all, which I guess they weren't.
The chamber dimmed. The once-vibrant walls, so alive moments ago with the glowing threads of our intent, faded to a dull, exhausted blue. Not dead—just dormant. The room had been awake for the duration of the trial. Now it was sleeping again.
