The door sealed behind them with a sound like stone grinding against bone. Darkness fell heavy and absolute, broken only by the faint blue glow of the runes that crawled across the walls. The air was colder here, unnaturally so, as if the tower itself had been hollowed from the marrow of the world.
Carlos tightened his grip on the Blade of Ascension. Its white fire gave off a pale glow, but even its light seemed muted, smothered by the oppressive shadows of the Citadel.
"This place is wrong," Rina whispered, her voice swallowed by the silence. "Feels like it's listening."
"It is," Maren murmured, her eyes glassy. "It's alive."
They began to climb the spiral staircase, their footsteps echoing far louder than they should have, each sound returning to them again and again until it was impossible to tell how many people walked behind them.
Lys touched an arrow to her bowstring, her gaze sweeping the shadows above. "Stay sharp. Towers like this… they're never just stone."
The staircase wound upward endlessly. Time seemed to warp; Carlos couldn't tell if they had been climbing for minutes or hours. His legs burned, his breath came in short gasps, yet the top was nowhere in sight.
Then, abruptly, the staircase ended.
They emerged into a vast circular chamber, its ceiling lost in darkness. The floor was a mosaic of mirrored stone, reflecting their forms with eerie precision. In the center of the room rose a black obelisk, its surface etched with glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Carlos stepped forward cautiously, the Blade's glow rippling across the mirrored floor. His reflection moved with him—but then he froze.
Because his reflection did not stop when he did.
The mirrored Carlos kept walking, its eyes glowing faintly blue. Then, with a smile that did not belong to him, it raised a phantom version of the Blade.
"What the hell—?" Rina breathed.
The others' reflections began to move as well, slipping free of the floor as though the mirrors were water. Each reflection stepped forward, weapons in hand, their faces twisted with cruel grins.
"Echoes," Maren whispered, her voice trembling. "The Citadel is testing us."
The echoes attacked.
Carlos's reflection lunged, its Blade crashing against his own. The impact sent a shockwave of cold through him, as if the weapon drew not from steel but from his very soul. The phantom grinned wider, its movements perfect—an exact mirror of his own fighting style.
Across the chamber, Lys's echo loosed an arrow that split into three midair, forcing her to dive behind a rune-carved pillar. Rina was already locked in a deadly dance with her double, each dagger strike countered with inhuman speed. Thalor's echo slammed its shield into him with enough force to crack stone, while Maren's phantom cast spells she hadn't even spoken yet, magic exploding across the floor in arcs of lightning.
"They know our every move!" Lys shouted, loosing an arrow that was caught mid-flight by her double.
Carlos gritted his teeth as his reflection pressed him back step by step. It fought without hesitation, without fear, without fatigue. Every flaw in his technique was exploited, every hesitation punished.
How could they win against themselves?
The Helm flickered, new words burning across Carlos's vision:
Do not defeat them. Transcend them.
Carlos's chest heaved. The Helm wasn't asking for brute force. It wanted something more.
His reflection slashed at him, the Blade's white fire mirrored in its hand. Carlos parried, sparks flying, and stared into the echo's eyes. For a moment, he saw not malice but emptiness. It wasn't alive. It was only a test—a question.
"Not by killing," Carlos murmured. "But by changing."
He lowered his sword.
The echo raised its blade high, ready to strike. But when it saw Carlos drop his guard, it hesitated. Its cruel grin faltered. The mirrored Blade flickered, its white fire sputtering.
Carlos took a deep breath. Instead of fighting, he stepped forward and pressed his hand to the reflection's chest.
The phantom froze. Then it dissolved into blue light, vanishing with a sound like breaking glass.
"Stop fighting!" Carlos shouted. "They're not enemies—they're us! Accept them, and they break!"
One by one, the others hesitated. Lys let her echo's arrow strike harmlessly against her armor without loosing her own. The reflection flickered and vanished. Rina dropped her daggers and stood firm as her double slashed at her throat; the blade passed through harmlessly before the phantom disintegrated.
Thalor lowered his shield. Maren dropped her staff. The echoes dissolved into blue mist until only Carlos remained in the chamber, the Blade glowing brighter in his hand.
Silence returned.
The obelisk pulsed once, its runes flaring, then cracked open. A fragment of crystal floated upward, hovering in the air like a captured star. It drifted toward Carlos until it rested above his palm.
You have transcended the first trial of the Citadel, the Helm's voice intoned. The Path of Reflection is open.
The crystal melted into his skin, searing like fire, then fading into a cold weight inside his chest. Power thrummed through him—alien, heavy, but his.
Carlos staggered back, panting. He looked at the others, their faces pale but alive.
Rina was the first to speak. "If that's the first trial… what in all hells comes next?"
No one answered.
Above them, the staircase continued, vanishing into shadows that seemed to whisper promises of deeper truths.
The Citadel was far from finished with them.