The chamber erupted into chaos.
Kaelen's firestorm ripped through the air, a tide of searing light crashing into his shadow. The dark twin absorbed the blaze, black veins glowing as it twisted the flames back at him. Kaelen staggered, teeth gritted—fighting himself felt like burning his own soul.
Lyra's molten blade clashed against her double's fractured sword. Sparks flew as metal screamed. Every swing of her weapon met with a mirror of her own skill, but crueler, hungrier. Blow after blow, she realized she was not just fighting a reflection—she was fighting her doubts.
"You are nothing without him," the shadow hissed as their blades locked.
Lyra's arms trembled. For an instant, she believed it.
The candle-bearer cried out, their flickering flame barely holding back the swarm of smoke-like shadows clawing at them. "I can't—I can't hold it—"
Kaelen saw them falter. Rage exploded in his chest—not at the candle-bearer, but at the manipulations that had cornered them. His fire lashed out in a blazing arc, scattering the lesser shadows.
"You're stronger than this!" he shouted over the roar. "That flame isn't small—it's hope. Our hope."
For a moment, the candle's light flared.
Lyra drove her shadow back with a furious strike, molten sparks spilling across the floor. But her reflection only smiled, whispering:
"You're fighting yourself. Every cut you land, you bleed."
And she realized it was true—the more she fought, the weaker she felt.
Kaelen too felt the same—every strike against his double drained him, as though each blow tore at his own fire. The watchers' trap was perfect: no victory in combat, only exhaustion.
Lyra's grip faltered, but then Kaelen's voice cut through the haze.
"They win if we believe them. Don't fight what they are. Fight what they mean."
She froze—then her eyes widened with understanding.
Her double lunged, blade raised for a killing strike. Instead of parrying, Lyra let her sword drop low, leaving her chest bare. The shadow's eyes flashed in triumph as it struck—only for the blade to pass through her, dissolving into smoke.
Because she did not believe in it anymore.
Kaelen roared, turning to face his own reflection.
"You are not me. You are what I left behind."
His fire ignited, brighter than ever, pure and unyielding. His double shrieked, body unraveling in flames that no shadow could contain.
The candle-bearer looked into the eyes of their dying reflection and whispered, "I am not small. I am the flame that keeps them walking." Their tiny light surged into a blaze, and the shadow vanished with a wail.
The chamber shook violently. The orbs above burst one by one, spilling streams of starlight into the void. Shadows disintegrated, their whispers silenced.
For the first time since entering the stair, there was quiet.
Kaelen fell to one knee, breath ragged, but his fire burned steady. Lyra stood beside him, her sword gleaming molten gold. The candle-bearer's light glowed brighter than ever, not large, but certain.
Together, they had done what the watchers hadn't expected.
They hadn't just survived.
They had refused despair.
And the stair trembled, as if unsettled by their defiance.