The plains stretched endlessly beneath a bruised sky. The light had turned strange here—thick, untrustworthy, as if the air itself was made of glass dust reflecting someone else's sun.
Erevan's boots crunched over the salt-cracked soil. Each step sent small shards of light scattering, little ghosts of what once was. His ribs still ached from the earlier pulse—an electric throb that refused to fade.
Kaelith moved ahead, silent, every motion deliberate. Her cloak fluttered against the windless air, too fluid for something as still as this world. Vega glided beside them, their translucent form flickering between human outline and data-static, the faint hum of their presence the only sound that wasn't natural.
Even Sir Quacksalot was quiet. Which was, frankly, terrifying.
"Y'know," Erevan murmured after a long stretch of silence, "for a cursed wasteland that used to be alive, it's doing a stellar job making me wish I'd stayed somewhere with plumbing."
Kaelith didn't slow. "You wouldn't have survived there either."
"Ah, yes. The comfort of consistency."
Vega's voice glitched through the air—half melodic, half distortion. "The air particles here are refracting frequencies. The Citadel's distortion field begins beyond this ridge."
Erevan squinted at the horizon. A shimmer hovered there—a mirage that didn't move with the heat, a wall of fractured glass rising like a frozen storm. The Glass Citadel.
It looked less like a city and more like a wound that refused to close. Towers jutted skyward in impossible geometries, reflecting clouds that didn't exist. Each surface rippled faintly, alive with echoes.
A pulse rippled through Erevan's shard, subtle at first, then insistent. The relic beneath his ribs hummed in answer, a low vibration that seemed to sync with his heartbeat.
(System Notice: Resonance Detected – Unstable Signal Matching: [Citadel Core])
He flinched. "Okay, that's… new. Anyone else's bones humming?"
Vega turned slightly, expression unreadable. "The Citadel is responding to you. Or to what you've become."
"Great. Love that for me."
Kaelith slowed, eyes narrowing as she studied the city's glow. "This place wasn't supposed to exist anymore. The Order erased it from every map."
"Maybe it didn't like being forgotten," Erevan said. "Can't blame it. I get moody when people ignore me too."
Kaelith's look could have frozen lava. "Focus."
They crested the final ridge, and the Citadel unfurled before them in full.
The ground gave way to mirrored plains—every step now reflected their forms, warped and shifting, like memories that didn't fit right. The air grew cold enough to sting, each breath crystallizing faintly.
Erevan's reflection didn't move in sync.
He stopped. "Uh, fun fact—my reflection's having a better day than I am."
Kaelith followed his gaze. Her reflection didn't look back at her either. It faced Erevan.
Vega's distortion grew stronger. "Cognitive mirroring anomaly. The Citadel is alive. Every surface is a sensory node."
"Alive?" Erevan repeated, incredulous. "What, does it have a mortgage too?"
No one answered.
They descended the final slope in silence. The closer they got, the quieter the world became. Even the wind avoided this place. Erevan's heart pounded—not just from fear, but from something else. The shard inside him vibrated like a trapped heartbeat trying to sync with a much older rhythm.
Kaelith glanced sideways at him, her tone softer now. "If you lose control inside, the guardians will sense it instantly. Do you understand?"
He tried to smile, but it came out brittle. "Sure. No pressure. Just walk into an ancient cursed fortress with a bomb in my chest and hope it doesn't sneeze."
The shard pulsed again.
(Warning: Corruption Level – 38%)
(Stability Remaining – 7%)
Vega turned sharply. "Erevan."
"I know," he said through his teeth. "It's fine. It's just… loud."
Kaelith stopped walking. The reflection of her in the mirrored ground didn't. It kept walking—right through Erevan's shadow—and vanished.
His stomach dropped.
Vega's form flickered violently, as though interference tore through their core. "The outer veil recognizes us. The Citadel is choosing what to let in."
Sir Quacksalot quacked once, sharp and final. Then the air in front of them shimmered—space bending like light through water.
A gate materialized from the distortion. It wasn't metal or glass—it was something between. Translucent veins of memory pulsed through its surface. The symbols etched into it glowed faintly with that same blue-white shimmer he'd seen when the relic first bonded to him.
Erevan exhaled, low and steady. "Well, looks friendly enough. Should we knock, or do we just… walk into certain death uninvited?"
Kaelith's gaze was unwavering. "It already knows you're here."
He looked at Vega. "And you're sure this won't—"
Vega interrupted, voice layered with distortion. "Probability of survival: sixty-two percent."
"Sixty-two? Not terrible."
"Minus twenty for overconfidence."
He groaned. "Right. Forty-two. Classic."
Kaelith's bow shimmered briefly as she disengaged its charge. "If it turns hostile, we run."
"And if it closes behind us?"
Her eyes flicked toward him. "Then we don't."
The relic in his chest gave one final, eager pulse. The gate shuddered open—not swinging or sliding, but unfolding, like a thought deciding to reveal itself.
Erevan felt the air shift. The smell of ozone and dust filled his lungs. For a heartbeat, the Citadel breathed.
Then they stepped through.
Inside, the world transformed.
The air thickened—denser than outside, saturated with the shimmer of something alive. The Citadel's interior wasn't solid; it shifted like liquid glass under a low hum. Structures bent subtly as if aware of their presence. Light refracted through the walls in cascading spectrums, washing their faces in ghost-blue and pale gold.
Erevan stared upward. The ceilings curved impossibly high, mirrored surfaces layering the sky into infinity. "You know," he murmured, "I take back what I said outside. This place is definitely haunted."
Kaelith glanced at him without humor. "Don't draw attention."
"Right, because the glowing relic in my chest screaming at the architecture is being subtle."
The shard pulsed again—so loud this time he almost staggered. The hum from the walls deepened in response, a low note vibrating through bone. Vega steadied him, their translucent hand flickering between solid and static.
"The Citadel recognizes your resonance," Vega whispered. "You are triggering its primary defense—The Trial of Reflection."
Erevan blinked. "That sounds very judgmental for a building."
"Not judgment," Vega said softly. "Truth."
(System Notice: Trial of Reflection Initiated)
Objective: Confront the Echo
Failure: Dissolution of Identity
The floor rippled. Reflections detached from reality like smoke peeling off a flame. Each shadowed double stepped forward—distorted, gleaming, their eyes pure white.
Erevan's throat tightened. His reflection stood before him—same armor, same scars—but calmer. Still. Too still.
It spoke with his voice.
"Running jokes and broken promises. That's all that's left of you."
He forced a smirk. "Wow, even my hallucinations are critics."
The reflection tilted its head. "You call it humor. I call it denial."
Kaelith's bow was raised but useless; her own reflection mirrored every move, arrow nocked, eyes unreadable. Vega's image shimmered as code and flesh split apart, two versions glitching against each other like out-of-sync programs.
The air filled with static tension. Light fractured into razor-edged ribbons.
Erevan's pulse raced. He didn't know if it was fear or the shard, but both burned in equal measure. "Okay," he muttered, "so we punch the philosophical mirror copies or—"
Vega cut in. "You cannot attack them. They are you. The Citadel doesn't destroy intruders. It makes them see."
His reflection stepped closer. "You used to believe in redemption. Now you fight because you're afraid to stop."
He clenched his fists. "You don't get to talk like you know me."
"I am you," it said. "Just the version you keep buried."
The words hit harder than the relic's pulse. His hands shook—not from rage, but from recognition.
Behind him, Kaelith was struggling too. Her double whispered something inaudible, her face tightening in pain. Vega stood perfectly still, eyes flickering with overlapping data as their reflection fragmented like a broken screen.
Erevan swallowed. The reflection reached out—same hands, same tremor.
He hesitated… then let it touch him.
The moment their palms met, the world folded inward.
Light shattered into endless fragments—memories, faces, failures. The Market burning. Kaelith bleeding in the dark. The Whisperer's voice echoing through his skull. And beneath it all, the relentless question: Why keep fighting?
He wanted to answer. He didn't know how.
The shard inside his chest pulsed wildly, feeding on his turmoil, amplifying it. His reflection's form began to distort, melting into dark veins of corruption.
Vega shouted something—distant, mechanical—but Erevan could barely hear it. His reflection's face twisted into something wrong: his features hollowed, eyes black, mouth stretched into a too-wide grin.
"See?" it whispered. "You're already mine."
The relic burned. Erevan's body convulsed.
(System Warning: Stability – 3%)
(Host Integrity Failing)
Kaelith broke free from her mirrored double with a roar—not physical, but through sheer will. Her reflection cracked apart like glass under heat. Vega's echo followed, their voice weaving code into a barrier around Erevan.
The reflection lunged. Erevan reacted without thinking—he grabbed the shard's pulse and pushed.
Light exploded. The echo screamed, shattering into shards that dissolved midair. The sound died all at once.
Silence fell. The Citadel walls dimmed, the glow receding like the tide.
(Trial Completed: Reflection Accepted)
(Reward: Stability +10%)
Erevan dropped to his knees, panting, hand pressed over his heart. The relic's hum quieted. For the first time in days, it felt almost… still.
Kaelith knelt beside him, fingers brushing his shoulder. "You okay?"
He laughed weakly. "Define okay. I just trauma-bonded with a mirror."
"Then you passed," Vega murmured, faint smile flickering through static. "The Citadel doesn't test strength. It tests truth."
He tilted his head up. The hall before them had changed. The mirrored floors now reflected real sky—blue, endless, a memory of what once was. The Citadel had accepted them.
Kaelith rose first, steady but wary. "It won't stay dormant for long. The resonance—it'll attract others."
Erevan's humor dimmed. "Others like what?"
A tremor rippled through the floor. The light around them fractured again—no longer soft. Violent.
Vega's eyes widened. "Like that."
The air split open behind them. A distortion poured out like smoke swallowing light. The temperature dropped instantly, their breath fogging.
The Whisperer stepped through the veil.
It was different this time—larger, clearer, as if the Trial had sharpened it too. Its voice rolled through the Citadel like thunder underwater.
You think reflection frees you. It only makes you visible.
Kaelith drew her bow; the string hummed with kinetic fire. Vega's form flickered into a combat configuration, spectral energy arcing between their palms.
Erevan stood slowly, exhausted, trembling—but his eyes were clear. "You're late," he said. "We already did the self-loathing part."
The Whisperer's shape rippled—edges splitting into tendrils of pure void.
Then let me finish it for you.
The relic pulsed once—bright and warning. The shard's hum matched it perfectly.
Erevan exhaled, setting his stance. "Kaelith, Vega… you know the drill. We survive first. Philosophy later."
Kaelith's grin was thin and dangerous. "Finally, something simple."
The Whisperer moved.
Light shattered, wind howled, and the Citadel—once a monument of silence—screamed with the sound of war reborn.