The golden light seized her, and in the blink of an eye the crystalline chamber was gone.
Rina staggered, blinking into the sudden glare of torches, the scent of smoke and ale thick in the air. She was standing in a great hall of revelry — music pounding, laughter ringing, tables piled high with food and gold.
And all of it was hers.
The crowd erupted into cheers at her arrival, voices clamoring her name. "Rina! Rina the Bold! Rina the Untouchable!" Coins were tossed into the air like confetti, jewels glittered from the rafters, and the bards sang songs of her exploits — songs she hadn't yet lived.
She froze. Her hand drifted to her dagger, but the weight at her hip was different. Sleeker. Ornate. She looked down and saw not the worn hilt of her old blade but twin daggers wrought of crystal and flame, humming with power.
Her breath caught.
"You like them?"
The voice slid into her ear, warm and smooth. She turned. Leaning casually against the nearest table was a version of herself, but older, sharper, draped in silks, jewels glittering at her throat. This Rina smirked, tossing a gold coin between her fingers.
"That's me?" she muttered.
"That's you," the doppelgänger confirmed, bowing with mocking flourish. "The Rina who chose freedom over chains, self over sacrifice. The Rina who never slowed down for anyone. Look at them." She gestured at the crowd, the mountains of treasure. "They worship us. And not because we saved them, not because we bled for them — but because we outwitted them, because we took what was ours."
Rina's pulse quickened. The music surged, the crowd cheering her name louder still. She grinned despite herself.
The Temptation of Freedom
The older Rina poured a drink, sliding it across the table. "Tell me you're not tired of it. Carrying their burdens. Marching into battles that aren't yours. Listening to speeches about duty, sacrifice, destiny." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "We're thieves, love. Not martyrs. Not heroes."
Rina lifted the goblet. The wine was sweet, intoxicating, and for a moment she laughed. The sound was genuine, free of the grim weight she'd carried for so long.
"Imagine it," her double whispered. "No more promises. No more chains. Just you, your blades, your wits — and the world ripe for the taking. Wealth. Glory. Songs that will outlive kingdoms. All yours."
Rina's smile faltered. She remembered the Keeper's spear, the way it had nearly pierced Carlos's heart. She remembered Thalor shielding them until his arm nearly broke, Maren's face pale with exhaustion as she forced her magic beyond its limits, Lys's steady arrows keeping the dark at bay.
"They need me," she muttered.
The older Rina scoffed. "Do they? Or do they just use you? You've seen it — they lean on your skills when it suits them. A lock to pick, a trap to disarm, a throat to cut. But when it comes to glory, to leadership, do they look at you? No. You're the shadow, the afterthought. Without them, you'd shine brighter than the Spire itself."
The crowd cheered again, drowning her doubts in waves of adoration.
The Chains Beneath the Gold
But then, in the farthest corner of the hall, she noticed something strange.
A figure sat slumped in the shadows, wrapped in chains. At first, she thought it was a prisoner — until she saw its face.
Her face.
Another Rina, gaunt and hollow-eyed, wrists bound, daggers broken at her feet.
Rina's breath caught. "What—?"
The jeweled version of herself stepped into her path, smirking. "Ignore her. That's what happens if you keep going the way you're going. Shackled by duty, broken by promises you never should've made. That's the other future. This—" She swept her hand over the glittering hall, the mountains of treasure. "—is the one you deserve."
The chained Rina lifted her head weakly, eyes meeting hers. "Don't… leave them." Her voice was cracked, desperate.
The jewel-draped Rina snarled, grabbing her double by the hair and forcing her head down. "She's weakness. You don't need them, and you don't need her. Choose freedom."
The Knife's Edge
The crowd surged forward, pressing gifts into her hands: rings, necklaces, crowns. She felt their weight dragging her down, heavier and heavier. Her daggers pulsed with light, urging her to take what was offered.
The older Rina leaned close, voice a hiss. "Choose me. Choose yourself. Let them march into the maw alone. Why risk your life for others when you could rule your own world?"
The chained Rina whispered again, faint but steady: "They'll fall without you."
Rina's heart hammered. She had lived her whole life chasing freedom, spitting in the face of chains. And yet… every coin, every crown, every cheer felt less like freedom and more like shackles of another kind.
She thought of Carlos's haunted eyes as he dropped the scepter, refusing a crown that could have been his. She thought of Thalor, standing unbroken beneath impossible weight.
She thought of what it meant to choose together, not alone.
Her hand tightened on the jeweled goblet. She flung it into the crowd. The cheering faltered.
"I've tasted freedom," she said, voice rising over the stunned silence. "And it isn't bought with gold or crowns. It's earned in fire, with people who bleed beside you. I'll take chains if they're the kind I choose — and I choose them."
The jeweled Rina screamed, her jewels cracking, her silks turning to ash. The hall warped and crumbled, the crowd dissolving into dust. The chained Rina smiled faintly before fading into light.
The daggers in Rina's hands dulled, their false glow extinguished. She let them fall, unashamed.
Return to the Heart
She staggered back into the Heart-Spire's chamber, chest heaving. The crystalline walls pulsed, acknowledging her choice.
Her companions turned. Carlos's face was pale, but his eyes shone with relief. Thalor gave a curt nod, respect glinting beneath his sternness.
Rina smirked weakly. "Well. That was unpleasant."
Lys studied her carefully. "What did you see?"
"Gold. Glory. Everything I thought I wanted." She shrugged, though her hands still trembled. "But it wasn't freedom. Not really."
Maren's voice was soft, almost reverent. "You chose us instead."
Rina snorted. "Don't make it sound noble. I just didn't like the look of myself dripping in silk."
But her smirk didn't hide the truth in her eyes: she had faced her temptation and turned away.
The golden light shifted again, peeling from her form and settling now over Lys. The huntress stiffened, bow at the ready, but the glow bound her all the same, drawing her forward.
"Your turn," Rina muttered, watching as Lys vanished into the Spire's will.