The world dissolved into a symphony of grinding crystal and silver mist. One moment, Lana was enjoying the delicious, simmering tension between Dante and that little fire-starter, Erica.
The next, she was alone, trapped in a hallway of shimmering, endless mirrors.
The others had screamed. She thought she heard Dante's name, probably from that pathetic redhead.
She just laughed. 'A private little party? How thoughtful of this forest.'
The labyrinth thought it could break her. It was adorable.
It started by showing her things from her past. The grey, suffocating walls of the orphanage.
The pinched, disapproving face of the headmistress, her voice echoing from a thousand reflections. "You are a troubled child, Lana. Full of darkness."
"And you're a boring old hag," Lana chirped, extending her Verdant Iron Staff with a flick of her wrist.
CRASH!
She smashed the reflection into a shower of glittering dust. "Next!"
The labyrinth tried again, creating a ghost of her sniveling, cheating ex-boyfriend.
He was on his knees, his face a mask of terror, begging for a forgiveness he didn't deserve. "Lana, please," he whimpered. "I made a mistake. I love you."
"I know," she sighed dramatically, resting her staff on her shoulder. "Loving me is a very common mistake." She swung the staff in a wide, gleeful arc, shattering his phantom form.
'It was even more satisfying the second time around.'
This wasn't a trial. It was a highlight reel. The labyrinth was trying to torment her with her demons, but it failed to understand a basic truth: she had already made her demons her pets.
They didn't scare her anymore. She fed them.
When the walls finally slid away and she saw the others again, she had to stifle a giggle. They looked like frightened little mice.
Erica was pale and trembling, her clothes scorched.
That quiet one, Talia, looked like she'd seen a ghost. Even Dante, her beautiful, unbreakable Dante, looked… weary. The labyrinth had tried to show them their deepest fears. It had only shown her a good time.
Then the floor glowed, and the crystal copies of them began to rise. Five of them. Perfect, silent, and utterly deadly. 'A new set of toys to break.'
"Oh, this is going to be fun," she whispered.
As if hearing her thought, a shimmering, invisible wall appeared between each of them, trapping them with their crystal twin.
She saw Erica light her fists, preparing to fight her copy, but she couldn't reach her. No one could interfere. It was a duel. Just her and… her.
Her crystal copy stood opposite her, its form a perfect, flawless copy. It held a staff of pure, clear crystal, and it mirrored her stance exactly.
But its eyes, those many-sided, empty things, held a cold, mocking intelligence.
"Finally," she purred, spinning her staff. "A worthy opponent."
She charged. Her copy charged.
CLANG!
Their staves met with a sound like a thousand shattering chandeliers. The force of the impact sent a shockwave up her arms, but her copy didn't even flinch.
It moved with her speed, her grace, her knowledge. It knew every fake-out, every block, every brutal strike she was capable of.
"You can't win," it said, its voice a perfect echo of her own, but with all the warmth stripped away, leaving only a cold, cutting cruelty. "You can't beat yourself."
"Watch me," she snarled, lashing out with a sweeping strike aimed at its legs. It leaped effortlessly over the attack, landing with a soft chime.
"Why are you even trying?" the crystal Lana asked, its head tilted in fake curiosity. "This isn't about strength. You know that. This is about him."
It gestured with its crystal staff toward the real Dante, who was locked in his own silent battle.
"You think he wants you?" her copy laughed, a sound like ice cracking. "Look at you. You're a broken little thing from a broken home. A storm of chaos and need."
"You're exciting, yes. A beautiful disaster. But a man like Dante doesn't want a disaster. He wants a tool."
"Shut up!" she screamed, her playful attitude cracking. She lunged, her staff a blur of motion. It blocked every strike with an infuriating ease.
"He sees you for exactly what you are," it continued, its voice never stopping. "A weapon. Powerful, unpredictable, and in the end, disposable."
"He keeps you close because you're useful. The moment your chaos is more trouble than you're worth, he will throw you away without a second thought."
"You're lying!" she parried a vicious thrust, the impact jarring her teeth.
"Am I?" The crystal Lana smiled, a terrible, knowing smile. "Look at the little fire-starter. Erica. She's pathetic, yes. A shy, obsessive little mouse."
"But her devotion is simple. It is pure. It is controllable. She is a loyal dog. You? You are a rabid wolf he keeps on a very short leash."
"Who do you think he truly values more? The loyal pet, or the beautiful monster he knows he'll have to put down eventually?"
Its words were poison. Each one was a carefully aimed dart hitting a place deep inside her she refused to admit existed.
The place that knew her obsession was a sickness. The place that knew Dante's affection was a leash, not a hug.
"He and I are the same!" she roared, pouring all her rage into a powerful overhead strike.
SCREEECH!
Their staves met again, the sound screaming through the room. This time, a crack appeared in her copy's crystal weapon. It had felt that.
Her rage, her true, pure madness, was a power it couldn't perfectly copy.
It saw the crack, and its smile widened. "The same? Oh, sweetie, no," it whispered, its voice dropping to a poisonous purr. "He is a king building an empire. You? You're just a broken girl who likes to burn things."
"You don't want to rule with him. You just want to be the only thing left in the ashes. You think that's love? He knows it's not."
"He knows you would burn him, too, if it meant you could have him all to yourself."
Her breath hitched. Her grip on her staff weakened for just a fraction of a second.
And in that instant, the crystal Lana moved. Its own staff, though cracked, was a blur. It wasn't aimed at her head or her chest. It was aimed at her knee.
CRUNCH.
It struck with a sickening, crystal-on-bone sound.
A bolt of pure, white-hot pain shot up her leg. She screamed, a real scream this time, a sound of pain and shock.
Her leg buckled, and she collapsed to the crystal floor. Her staff clattered from her numb fingers.
She looked up, panting, her vision swimming with tears of pain. Her copy stood over her, its face showing no emotion, its cracked crystal staff held ready.
"See?" it said, its voice a final, crushing whisper. "In the end, even you can break yourself."