The wind of Olkaira didn't blow—it whispered, curling around the travelers like unseen fingers brushing secrets against their skin. Above them, stars bled slowly across the sky, and beneath their feet, glowing rivers of memory pulsed with heartbeats not their own.
Light stood at the edge of a floating cliff, the sigil in his palm still burning from the battle with Caedros. The lines had changed—grown more intricate, almost alive. As he stared at it, he felt something inside him fracture… and awaken.
"Sila," he said without looking. "What am I becoming?"
She stood beside him, hands clasped. "Not something… someone. The world is pulling the truth from you."
Behind them, Mira, Barak, Kyle, and Ilyra gathered around a tree whose bark shimmered like moonlight caught in tears. Flowers bloomed along its branches—petals like mirrors, each whispering soft sounds in a language no one taught them, yet everyone understood.
"Echo-flowers," Ilyra murmured. "They only grow where reality fractures."
Mira brushed one gently. The flower whispered her name… and a memory she never lived. A version of her life where she betrayed Light. Where she joined Morrigan willingly.
She shivered and stepped back. "This place—it's not just showing us who we are. It's showing us who we could have been."
Kyle frowned. "Then we should move fast. Before one of us likes what we see."
---
The Mirrorborn
The ground trembled.
A crack split beneath the echo-tree. A mirror-lake, perfectly still, surfaced from the depths of nothing. From it rose a figure—not one, but many. Shifting forms, faces stolen from their own fears.
The Mirrorborn.
Its voice was a hundred regrets, a thousand screams choked before they could be spoken.
"Who are you without your past?" it asked.
Light stepped forward… and the Mirrorborn took his shape. Not his current self, but another version—one where he stood beside Morrigan, cloaked in fire, a tyrant born from wrath.
"You feared the gods. You feared death. You feared being forgotten," the Mirrorborn hissed. "So you became what they feared most."
The others faced their own shadows:
Kyle saw himself walk away from Light during the First Fall.
Barak saw himself letting his family die in the siege of Teyrah.
Mira saw herself wielding forbidden magic, her hands bloodstained with betrayal.
Ilyra saw herself erasing entire timelines to preserve one truth—hers.
Sila did not fight.
Instead, she began to sing.
A lullaby.
A forgotten song from a world before war, before gods.
Her voice cut through illusion. The Mirrorborn screamed—not in rage, but sorrow.
Light stepped forward, not with fire… but with forgiveness.
"I don't fear who I could've been," he said. "Because I chose who I am."
He touched his other self.
The Mirrorborn dissolved into stardust.
---
The Prophet of Eidra
From the lake's retreating edge, a cloaked figure rose—face hidden, crown cracked, robes stitched with constellations.
"I am the last Herald of Eidra," he said, his voice like parchment burned at the edges.
Light narrowed his eyes. "Eidra…?"
The Prophet nodded. "The realm beneath realms. The last breath of gods. The truth they buried when they feared what they created."
He raised a hand and the stars above bent—forming a symbol like Light's sigil, only inverted.
"You are not chosen, Flameborn. You are made. A weapon crafted in Morrigan's final breath. Her vengeance shaped you. Her will pulses in your veins."
Silence followed.
Mira's eyes widened. Kyle took a step back.
Barak clenched his fists.
But Light… simply stood still.
"Then I'll forge a new will," he said quietly. "If my flame began in hate, then I'll burn it into something pure."
The Prophet studied him.
And smiled.
"Then you are ready."
He lifted his hand—and Light's sigil flared again, changing.
The shape bloomed, fractured, then reformed.
A new path opened behind the Prophet—a starlit bridge that pulsed with violet energy.
"This is not the end," the Prophet said. "This is the prologue. The gate to Eidra is open."
---
Closing Scene
As the group stood on the threshold of this new path, the world behind them shimmered—Olkaira shifting like a memory fading into legend.
Sila walked beside Light, her chain-blades softly glowing.
Mira looked at him, her voice low. "Even if you were born of her wrath… I believe in what you chose."
Light looked forward, not back.
"I choose fire."
He stepped onto the bridge.
One by one, they followed.
Behind them, the Prophet of Eidra faded into mist.
---
Post-Credit Scene
A blackened throne deep within the void.
Morrigan sat alone, her hands dipped in ichor and ink.
"Eidra awakens," she whispered.
Behind her, chained gods screamed without voices.
She smiled.
"Let them chase light. I'll teach them what darkness remembers."
She looked upward—toward a child she once touched with her dying breath.
"And my son… will choose me. In the end."
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