Chapter 14: The Mirror Below
The gates opened at dawn.
Twelve competitors stood at the edge of the Stonewrought Depths, cloaks fluttering in the wind. A chasm yawned before them, carved deep into the continent's crust—black rock slick with old blood and faintly glowing veins of mana.
The trial master spoke only once:
"Only five will leave. No killing. No allies. Survive… or be broken."
Then the ground shifted—and they fell.
Each champion was dropped into a different corridor of the labyrinth, separated by the shifting stone. The walls hummed with enchantments. Nothing stayed the same. Gravity bent. Sounds echoed out of sync.
Andrew landed silently, blade drawn.
Ashren pulsed faintly—uneasy.
The labyrinth recognized him.
Not as Andrew.
But as the Endblade.
At first, it was simple—traps of stone and fire, mana-mirages, illusions of enemies long dead. But Andrew cut through them without hesitation.
Until he reached the central chamber.
And the air grew cold.
There, standing in front of him, was… himself.
Not the Andrew he knew.
But the Endblade.
Draped in dark armor, his face shadowed, a crown of scorched iron on his brow. His eyes glowed like dying stars.
The apparition spoke, voice like thunder pressed through silk.
"You wear my name. You carry my sword. But you do not carry my will."
Andrew stepped forward, blade ready. "I'm not here to become you."
The Endblade tilted his head. "Then why do you keep reaching for me in the dark?"
With a motion like smoke, he attacked.
They fought in silence.
Shadow against shadow. Sword against sword.
Andrew moved with speed and clarity—but the Endblade was relentless. Every strike forced Andrew to draw deeper into the power he feared. Every parry echoed with the truth:
"You are not strong because you're different from me. You're strong because you are me."
But Andrew didn't break.
He didn't give in.
He remembered.
The faces of the champions who fought beside him. The civilians he shielded. The voice of Kaelira. Mihai. Nysera.
The man he chose to be.
And with that, he stepped into Eclipsed Stance—not with fear, but with conviction.
Their final clash shattered the illusion.
And the Endblade vanished with a smile.
"Good. Then I'll see you at the end."
When the chamber cleared, Andrew stood alone.
In his hand, Ashren hummed with new power.
A second form had awakened—Shadowbrand, a technique that marks an enemy's weakness with shadowlight… but only when wielded by one who knows who they are.
Elsewhere in the Depths, champions fell to fear, illusion, or exhaustion.
But Andrew walked forward—no longer burdened by his past.
Just defined by it.