Chapter 70: Confronting Shadows

As the darkness enveloped them, the ground beneath Lysandra's feet seemed to vanish. She felt as if she was falling, tumbling through an endless void. Panic surged within her, and she struggled to reach out for something—anything—to steady herself. Then, abruptly, the sensation stopped, and she found herself standing in a familiar place.

She was back in the royal gardens, where sunlight streamed through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the stone pathways. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, and the gentle murmur of the fountain nearby was calming. But something was wrong. The air felt heavy, and a dark, oppressive presence lingered just out of sight.

Lysandra took a hesitant step forward, her heart pounding in her chest. This was the place where she used to play as a child, the place where she and Zephyrion would sneak away from their duties to find moments of peace. But as she walked deeper into the garden, the colors began to bleed away, and the vibrant flowers wilted, turning to ash.

In the center of the garden stood a figure cloaked in shadow, its back turned to her. Lysandra's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the outline. It was herself—dressed in the royal garb she had worn before everything fell apart. The shadowy version of her turned slowly, its eyes gleaming with a cold light.

"You cannot run from me, Lysandra," the figure said, its voice a dark mirror of her own. "You know the truth. You always have."

Lysandra's stomach twisted as she met the gaze of her doppelgänger. It was like staring into a twisted reflection, one where every doubt, every fear, and every moment of weakness was magnified a hundredfold. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice trembling despite her attempts to remain composed.

The shadowy figure's smile was slow and cruel. "I want you to admit it. Admit that you're nothing without him. That you've been running all this time, pretending to be strong, when all you've ever done is hide behind his shadow."

"That's not true!" Lysandra retorted, her voice rising. "I fought. I bled. I—"

"You relied on Zephyrion," the figure interrupted, stepping closer. "You've always needed him to protect you, to make the hard decisions. Even now, you cling to his presence like a lifeline. But what will you do when he's gone? What will you become when there is no one left to shield you?"

Lysandra's hands clenched into fists at her sides. The words stung because, deep down, she feared they might be true. Ever since her world had turned upside down, she had fought alongside Zephyrion, never truly facing the darkness on her own. But she had changed. She had grown stronger, hadn't she?

"I am not the same girl I was," Lysandra said, her voice firm. "I have faced my fears. I have sacrificed—"

"You have avoided the truth," the shadow sneered. "You are afraid. Afraid of losing him. Afraid of being powerless."

The ground beneath Lysandra seemed to tremble, and the garden around them darkened further, the shadows growing deeper and more oppressive. The doppelgänger's eyes gleamed with a malicious light, and it stepped closer, reaching out a hand toward her.

"Embrace the darkness, Lysandra," it whispered. "It is the only way to survive."

For a moment, Lysandra hesitated, the weight of her fear pressing down on her chest. But then, she remembered Zephyrion's voice, his unwavering determination to protect and fight for those he cared about. She remembered Althara's courage and the sacrifices they had all made to get this far. She had come too far to be consumed by doubt now.

"No," she said, her voice steady and resolute. "I will not be swallowed by the darkness. I am more than my fears."

With those words, she drew her sword, and the blade glowed with a faint light, pushing back the shadows. The doppelgänger hissed, recoiling from the brilliance that pierced through the gloom.

Lysandra took a step forward, determination burning in her heart. "I will face whatever comes. I will not let my fears define me."

The shadowy figure seemed to waver, its form dissolving into the darkness that surrounded them. As it faded, the oppressive weight lifted, and Lysandra found herself back in the heart of the Abyss, her sword still glowing with the light of her resolve.

Zephyrion and Althara stood beside her, their expressions filled with concern and relief. The trial had only just begun, but Lysandra knew she was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

To be continued…