The passage narrowed until only one could walk at a time.
A low hum filled the air, not from stone or wind, but from something older—like a heartbeat echoing through the world.
"Beyond this point, each must face their spirit alone," the demon leader warned.
"Fail… and your soul may never return."
Prava inhaled sharply. Allara and Rafael exchanged worried glances, but the path allowed no hesitation.
When Prava stepped forward, the world around her dissolved.
The cavern, her friends, even her breath—gone.
She stood in a vast void, an endless mirror reflecting her image. But not just her image—her fears, her doubts, her buried rage.
From the shadows, another figure emerged.
It was her—yet not her. Eyes burning green, lips curled in disdain.
"You call yourself strong, but you are nothing. Born of shame, abandoned by your own people. Why should you carry the destiny of dragons or wolves?"
Prava's chest tightened. The words cut deep, for they were her own thoughts given voice.
She shook her head. "I am not nothing."
The reflection laughed, the sound sharp as broken glass.
"You are a mistake. A child of curse, not of choice. Even your friends pity you."
The void pulsed, the mirror cracking. The false Prava raised a hand, and chains of shadow lashed out, binding her wrists and throat.
Her knees buckled. For a moment, she wanted to give in—to let the darkness swallow her.
But then… she remembered.
Allara's hand holding hers.
Rafael's steady voice.
The vow she had spoken moments ago: If balance can return, I will not turn away.
A fire sparked in her chest, faint but unwavering.
With a roar, she pulled against the chains, light bursting from her veins like emerald flame.
The shadow-Prava shrieked, cracks splitting across its face until it shattered into dust.
The void trembled, and her reflection steadied—this time clear, untainted.
A voice, deep and calm, whispered within her mind:
"You have faced your shadow and endured. The spirit within you awakens."
When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the cavern. Sweat dampened her brow, but her gaze burned with new strength.
The demon leader bowed.
"Few survive the trial. Fewer still emerge unbroken. Remember this, child of dragon-blood—strength lies not in what you inherit, but in what you choose to overcome."