Elara's body hit the ground with a force that knocked the air from her lungs.
She coughed, pushing herself up, only to find the world around her utterly changed.
The sky was black glass, fractured with streaks of crimson lightning.
Beneath her feet, the ground pulsed like living flesh, and every step echoed with a heartbeat not her own.
The air was thick, metallic—smelling of blood and iron.
Then she saw her.
Standing only a few paces away was… Elara.
Same face, same eyes, but her skin shimmered with shadow, her smile curved in cruel amusement.
The double tilted her head, speaking in a voice that was hers, yet deeper, more dangerous.
> "So this is what you've become… a thief of power and a killer of love."
Elara froze, her chest tightening.
"I did what I had to," she said, her voice hoarse.
The shadow laughed, the sound sharp enough to cut.
"No—you did what was easy. And now I will finish what you've started."
Without warning, the shadow-Elara lunged, blades of black flame sprouting from her hands.
Elara barely drew her dagger in time, the clash of steel and shadow ringing like a scream in the air.
Each strike sent sparks of darkness flying, burning wherever they landed.
She could feel it—the darkness from the red-eyed warrior inside her—thrumming in sync with her double's attacks, as if the shadow was feeding on it, growing stronger with every blow.
Her arms ached, her breathing ragged, but she refused to fall.
If she lost here, she wouldn't just fail the trial—she would become the thing she feared most.
The ground split beneath them, shadowed tendrils rising to drag her down.
Elara gritted her teeth, channeled every ounce of rage, pain, and determination into one desperate strike—aiming straight for her own heart.