Fractured Echoes

Liam lunged.

Shadowfang cut through the mist, its edge a blur of silver and black, the hum rising in pitch, syncing with the pulse in his chest, the blade vibrating in his hands. His reflection met him in kind, the Hollow Mirror shifting, its movements too perfect, too smooth—an imitation sharpened to something beyond human, its distorted Shadowfang gleaming with an unnatural sheen. Their blades clashed in a burst of force, steel grinding against steel, sparks flaring between them, the sound ringing in his ears, a shockwave rippling through the mist, the air trembling.

Liam gritted his teeth, his arms trembling from the impact, his wrists aching, his breath ragged as he braced himself. It wasn't just a fight. It was a correction. The Hollow Mirror moved with an intent that dug under his skin, something instinctual and wrong, like it was not just defeating him, but undoing him, pulling apart the strands of his existence, a cold shiver running down his spine. The mist thickened around them, tendrils brushing his legs, the ground shifting beneath his boots.

[Sync Threshold: 38%]

[Structural Identity Compromised]

[Directive: Resist]

A cold buzz crawled down his spine, a warning buried in the pit of his stomach, his hands tightening on Shadowfang.

He wasn't supposed to win this fight. The realization hit like a hammer—this trial wasn't about overcoming an opponent. It was about erasure. The Hollow Mirror would consume him, replace him. Instinct screamed, a primal terror clawing at his gut, his breath catching—then he forced it down, a growl rumbling in his throat. "No," he snarled, his voice low, a spark of defiance flaring.

Liam twisted, forcing the lock to break, stepping back onto the unsteady obsidian, his boots skidding slightly as the path rippled beneath him, shifting like water struggling to decide if it should be solid, the cold biting through his soles. The mist twisted at the edges, spirals of darkness forming half-shapes—faces? Shadows? Echoes? Not yet real—the air crackling with static, the sound sharp in his ears.

His reflection didn't falter. It adjusted. A smooth tilt of the head. The barest flicker in those pale, empty eyes. Then it attacked again.

Liam barely had time to react before his own blade was coming for him. He ducked, rolling across the stone, the cold burning against his skin as Shadowfang's warped twin scraped past his shoulder, close enough that he felt the displaced air, a sting of heat against his cheek. The Hollow Mirror didn't hesitate—it never hesitated—pressing forward, relentless, its strikes coming faster, sharper, precise, its form blurring with each move, the mist parting around it, the ground trembling under its steps.

Liam blocked. Parried. Evaded. But he was slowing, his limbs growing heavier, his breath shorter, his muscles screaming with every swing, sweat dripping into his eyes, his vest soaked with the effort.

The sync was increasing.

And with it, something inside him was unraveling, a faint ache spreading through his chest, his vision flickering with static.

The Hollow Mirror suddenly stopped mid-motion. A perfect freeze-frame, head tilted, watching, its pale eyes narrowing. And then—it spoke.

"You are not enough."

The words weren't sound. They were a verdict. Cold. Absolute, sinking into his mind, a burning sensation prickling his thoughts, his hands faltering, a cold dread coiling in his gut.

Liam's breath hitched. The hesitation cost him.

The Hollow Mirror broke the lock, moving faster than thought. A fist slammed into Liam's chest, sending him flying back, his body crashing against the obsidian steps, pain lancing through his ribs, a sharp gasp escaping his lips, his back scraping the stone. Shadowfang slipped from his grip, skidding across the path, his fingers numb, the cold biting deeper into his palms, the mist pressing closer, whispering his name, the air thick with its presence.

The Hollow Mirror approached, slow, deliberate. Unrushed. Unbothered, its distorted Shadowfang dangling loosely, its pale eyes unblinking, the mist swirling around its feet, the ground trembling faintly.

Liam forced himself onto his knees, coughing, the taste of iron sharp on his tongue, blood flecking his lips, his vision blurred, static crawling at the edges. The mist whispered, pressing in, the figures flickering back—faint outlines of Mara, Varik—dissolving as quickly as they appeared, the air heavy with their silent judgment. His own voice echoed back at him, twisted, a mocking tone. "You walk a path not meant for you."

His pulse pounded. His fingers curled into fists, the stone cold against his knuckles. No.

His own voice again, softer now, almost… tired. "Why do you keep fighting?"

Liam clenched his jaw, his breaths hard and fast, his body trembling, the ache in his ribs flaring, his legs weak under him, his hands shaking as he reached for Shadowfang. But then—he laughed.

It was rough, raw, cut through with exhaustion, a sound that echoed off the spires, breaking the silence, a dark chuckle that steadied his resolve. "Because I don't break," he muttered, wiping the blood from his mouth, his voice low, defiant, a smirk tugging at his lips, his eyes narrowing.

And when he looked up, something shifted.

The Hollow Mirror hesitated, its form flickering, its pale eyes narrowing, the delayed sync throwing it off, the mist swirling violently around it, the air crackling with energy.

Liam pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders, flexing his fingers, the pain a dull roar in his chest, his breath steadying, his vest torn at the shoulder from the fall. His heart still pounded, his body still ached—but the fear? Gone. Shadowfang snapped back into his grip, the hum surging, his hands steady, the blade's edge gleaming with renewed vigor.

And this time—Liam attacked first.

The clash rang out, steel on steel, the void trembling, the mist recoiling, a pulse from the vortex lingering in his chest, pulling him deeper, the path ahead stretching into the unknown. The Hollow Mirror met his strike, its blade locking with his, the impact sending a jolt through his arms, his muscles straining, the ground shifting beneath him, the mist thickening at the edges.

The mist stirred, then pulsed, the air growing heavy, the hum intensifying. Another figure stepped out behind the Hollow Mirror, then another, their forms flickering, their pale eyes locking onto him, the ground trembling as they multiplied, a dozen Hollow Mirrors forming a semicircle, their silence screaming accusation, their movements synced with his, a mirror army closing in. The vortex loomed ahead, its light swelling, a shadow with his silhouette twitching in the dark, reacting to his every move, the air warping with the strain.

Liam's breath caught, his hands tightening on Shadowfang, his legs trembling, the exhaustion weighing him down, his chest heaving. He froze, doubt clawing at his mind—could he outrun them?—then instinct kicked in, a primal urge to survive surging through him, his heart racing, his eyes wide. [Warning: Dimensional Stability at Risk] [Directive Updated: Survive] A cold shiver ran down his spine, the buzz sharp in his skull, his vision flickering with static, his stats stabilizing at 25%.

He turned and ran.

The mist lashed at his heels, pulling at him, dragging backward, resisting his escape, the echoes of himself closing in, their footfalls perfectly synced with his, their breaths an unnatural chorus, the sound echoing off the spires. The steps ahead of him fractured, reforming mid-motion, never fully stable, each landing uncertain, the cold biting his skin, his boots slipping on the slick stone. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed—but he couldn't stop, his heart pounding, his hands clutching Shadowfang, the hum a lifeline.

Something was wrong.

This wasn't a fight. It wasn't a battle.

This was a devouring, the mist pulling harder, the Hollow Mirrors gaining, their pale eyes glowing brighter, their forms blurring into the void, the air thick with their intent, a primal terror clawing at his gut before he forced it down, his jaw set.

The vortex loomed ahead, the only path forward, its swirling light and shadow tearing at the fabric of the void, the hum from his chest syncing with its rhythm, a pulse pulling him toward it. He didn't know what lay beyond. He didn't know if he could even survive it, the air heavy with the weight of the unseen, the mist clawing at his legs, slowing his stride.

But he had no choice.

He glanced back—Hollow Mirrors lunging, their faces distorting, something worse taking shape, a grotesque twist of features—then committed. A single heartbeat of stillness, time slowing, the world holding its breath—then the drop. Chaos erupted as Liam jumped, the Hollow Mirrors following, their laughter a warped echo of his own, a hum lingering in the air, pulling him deeper into the unknown.