The mirrored fragments of the Ring shimmered and pulsed, reflecting not just Cled's image, but the myriad possibilities of his existence. Each reflection moved independently, yet each carried the unmistakable weight of his own essence. They were sharper, older, weaker, crueler, wiser—all at once. And they all bore the same eyes—eyes that had stared into the dark and refused to blink.
Cled's stance remained calm, deliberate. Every inch of him radiated controlled power. He did not fear the reflections, for he knew that none of them were truly him. They were echoes, fragments, and possibilities—but not the sum of his being.
"Which one will strike first?" the Guide whispered, her voice trembling as the air itself seemed alive with tension.
"They all will," Cled replied simply. "All at once or one at a time, it does not matter. The principle is the same: I will face them without losing myself."
The first reflection lunged. It was a version of Cled with hair darker, almost black, and eyes rimmed with shadows, carrying an aura of fury. His fists moved faster than the eye could follow, yet Cled anticipated each strike with effortless grace. He sidestepped, allowing the blows to pass, his own hand tracing a calm arc as he redirected the force into the mirrored fragments.
Crash!
The strike shattered a portion of the mirror. The reflection reeled back but reformed instantly, like a shadow pulling itself together.
"You are too… soft," it hissed. "Too forgiving!"
Cled shook his head slightly. "Softness is not weakness. Awareness is not restraint. You are blind because you judge without understanding."
The second reflection stepped forward. It was older, hunched slightly, scars marring its otherwise perfect form. It moved with the lethargy of age yet struck with precision that suggested experience honed over countless lifetimes. The attack was a trap, slow but inevitable if unheeded.
Cled met it with the Crimson Echo, drawing the energy around his palm, letting it ripple outward like water resisting a stone. The reflection stumbled but did not fall. Cled's aura flared brighter, and the reflection recoiled into a defensive stance, eyes flickering with uncertainty.
The Guide gasped. "No one has ever stood so firmly… not even the King's own champions."
Cled's gaze softened—not for the reflections, but for the lesson within them. "Every fragment carries a truth," he murmured. "But truth without understanding is a cage."
The third reflection moved differently. It was a younger version, innocent and untested, trembling as if burdened with potential it could not yet comprehend. Its strikes were clumsy, tentative, yet they carried the energy of raw ambition, of unrefined power aching to grow.
Cled caught its wrist midair. The energy coiled between them, not in hostility but in guidance. "Do not fear who you were," he said. "Fear only comes from forgetting yourself."
The reflection dissolved, returning to the mirrored fragments. One by one, they advanced, each embodying a lesson, a mistake, a strength, or a weakness. Cled did not falter. He did not speak unnecessary words. He let his body, mind, and the Echo guide him through a dance of mirrored steel, energy, and intent.
Hours—or perhaps moments—passed. Time in the Outer Rings did not obey mortal measurement. Each reflection pressed harder, faster, smarter, but Cled met every challenge with a combination of intuition and force tempered by understanding. He did not seek to destroy them. He sought only to confront the reflection and assert his own reality over illusion.
Eventually, the fragments began to crack—not with violence, but with acknowledgment. The echoes of what he might have been—the fears, the anger, the regrets—folded back into the mirrors, unable to withstand the certainty of Cled's self-awareness.
Cled's cloak billowed, the Crimson Echo flaring like a second sun. Light and shadow danced across the Ring, reflecting a brilliance so intense that the Guide had to shield her eyes.
"Enough," Cled said, his voice calm, resonating with a vibration that seemed to settle the world itself. The mirrors trembled and began to dissolve. One by one, the fragments returned to their place in the Ring, forming a seamless, perfect circle.
The Guide's eyes shone with awe. "You… you faced all of them… and survived."
Cled turned slightly, his gaze sweeping the Ring. "Not all were meant to be faced with force. Many were lessons, not enemies. The Ring tests more than strength—it tests understanding, awareness, and mastery over oneself."
The reflections that remained in the mirrors shimmered faintly before fading entirely. The Ring itself seemed to exhale, a soft vibration running through the ground and echoing through the Guide's robe.
"You have passed the Ring of Reflections," the Guide said, voice quivering with reverence. "Few ever leave it intact… fewer still with their self unshaken."
Cled's eyes narrowed, focused on the next horizon. "And the next Ring?"
"The third," she replied. "The Ring of Shadows. It is the Ring of memory, intent, and unspoken fears. Here, the Outer Rings will confront you with what you most wish to avoid. They will try to manipulate your perception, to trap your soul in illusions drawn from your deepest regrets and desires. Few return unchanged."
Cled tilted his head slightly. "Then we proceed. I do not avoid my shadow, nor do I fear it."
The Guide led him onward. The path shifted beneath them, a series of floating stones forming a bridge into the darkness. Around them, whispers began to echo—soft at first, almost imperceptible, then gradually growing in clarity. They were voices from the past—voices of allies, enemies, strangers, and forgotten memories. Each carried emotion: regret, guilt, desire, fear, hope.
Cled's aura flared, and the Crimson Echo wrapped around him like a protective cocoon. "I will not be swayed," he said firmly. "Nothing here can dictate my path. I am Cled—sky, echo, and master of my own direction."
A shadow detached itself from the darkness ahead. It was humanoid in shape, yet its form shifted constantly, appearing sometimes young, sometimes aged, sometimes grotesque. Its voice was a chorus of whispers.
"You fear your own strength."
"You cannot protect those you love."
"You will fail where the King would not."
Cled's expression did not change. He advanced slowly, deliberately, letting the shadow speak, letting it manifest. Every syllable it hissed, every illusion it wove, only strengthened his resolve.
"You are wrong," he said. "I do not fear. I understand. I do not fail. I adapt. And I choose my path, not illusion, not regret, not desire."
The shadow lunged.
Energy collided. Echoes of light and dark shattered the bridge beneath them. The Guide stumbled, nearly falling into the abyss, but Cled caught her wrist without looking back.
"I've got you," he said quietly. "Do not falter now. Keep your focus."
The shadow split, multiplied, and reformed—each clone stronger, faster, more convincing than the last. But Cled moved with calm precision, guiding his own power into the fractures of the illusions, dissolving them one by one.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the shadow paused. Its form flickered and collapsed entirely, leaving only a faint whisper that echoed in the wind:
"You… are… yourself…"
Cled exhaled slowly, letting the Crimson Echo settle. The Ring itself seemed to stabilize, light returning to the floating stones.
The Guide lowered her hands, eyes wide with awe. "You… passed it again. The Ring acknowledges you."
Cled looked up at the spiral ahead, where the fourth Ring awaited. "Then let us continue," he said. "The Outer Rings are many, but none will define me. I define myself."
As they advanced toward the fourth Ring, the air around them thickened with an unfamiliar energy. The Outer Rings were vast, each more perilous than the last, yet Cled's aura radiated certainty and calm.
Above, the sky of the Outer Rings shimmered like fractured glass, reflecting his resolve. Below, the abyss pulsed with the heartbeat of worlds waiting to challenge him. And within, the Crimson Echo sang—a melody of power, control, and destiny.
Cled walked forward. No Ring, no shadow, no echo could stop him.
The fourth Ring awaited. And Cled would meet it—not as a survivor, but as the master of his own destiny.