The chamber was silent.Too silent.Even breath felt loud.
Vael's reflection stepped forward.Same cloak.Same crown.But the eyes—dead.
"You hesitate," it whispered."You always did."
Vael said nothing.But his hand clenched.Not from fear—From memory.
The others were still.Each faced their own mirror.Nyra's version smiled with blood on her hands.Reylen's wore noble armor, soaked in ash.Eron's was missing an eye… and mercy.
"You are what you could become," the voice said."No gods. No relics. Just choice."
The reflections moved.No weapons.Just steps.
Vael's mirror-self raised a hand.Shadows curled from its fingers.Not chaotic.Controlled.
"You broke the crown," it said."But not yourself."
Vael stepped forward.His own power rose—But not from the crown.From within.
"I'm not you," he said.
"No," the echo answered."You're not strong enough."
They clashed.Shadow against shadow.But Vael's wasn't empty.
His held warmth.Memories.
Nyra screamed.Her reflection cut across her arm.But she fought back.Not with power—With clarity.
"I'm not that girl anymore!"
Reylen grunted, blades clashing.He bled.Still stood.
Eron… simply stared.And his mirror blinked first.
Vael knocked his double to the ground.The crown on its head cracked.
"You're just fear in my shape," he said.
And the mirror shattered.
The chamber pulsed.Reflections broke.The voice returned—quieter now.
"You choose who you are…But the past is never gone."
A new door opened.Stone. Ancient. Marked with the same crown symbol—split down the middle.
Vael looked back.Everyone was bruised.Breathing heavy.
But alive.
"We keep going," he said.
The door opened with a groan.And behind it—A stairwell of bone, leading deeper into the dark.