Elara took another step, and the petals reacted like startled birds—bursting apart, then converging again into a massive silhouette.
From the swirling light emerged a warrior made entirely of obsidian glass, his body covered in jagged cracks that pulsed with a sickly red glow. His weapon, a long blade forged from the same glass, hummed with unnatural energy.
Without a word, he lunged.
The impact of his strike shattered the marble tiles beneath her, sending shards skittering into the abyss beyond the chamber walls.
Elara rolled aside, her breath ragged. Her dagger felt small—laughably small—against the sheer mass of her foe.
But when the obsidian warrior's blade whistled past her face, narrowly missing, she saw her own reflection in its black sheen… only this reflection wore an expression twisted in rage.
> "So… you're me," she whispered.
The warrior didn't answer, only attacked again—faster, harder. Each blow forced her back, the petals around them scattering like frightened fireflies.
Pain flared across her shoulder as the tip of the glass blade sliced her. She bit back a cry, her grip tightening on her dagger. If this was truly herself—her darkness—then she knew she couldn't just dodge forever.
Summoning her strength, she leapt forward, steel meeting glass with a sharp, ringing crack. Sparks of light and shadow erupted where the weapons clashed, and for the first time, the obsidian warrior staggered back.
But his cracks only glowed brighter… and he began to split into two.