Lorian climbed the steep ridge, the icy wind cutting through his skin like a blade. Every step he took caused small rocks to crumble beneath his feet. The path to the peak of Tzaras Mountain was becoming increasingly treacherous, testing both his physical endurance and mental fortitude. His previous trial—the encounter with the entity within the wind—had only been the beginning. He knew that much.
The sky above darkened unnaturally, heavy clouds swirling like a storm was brewing. Though the sun had not yet set, the world around him felt dim, as if light itself was being drained away. The path ahead narrowed, forcing him closer to the edge of a sheer cliff. A single misstep would send him plummeting into the abyss below.
Then, a strange sensation crawled over his skin—he was being watched.
A shadow flickered along the mountainside.
His heartbeat quickened. Was it an enemy? An illusion?
Suddenly, the shadow coalesced into a figure standing in his path.
A Face in the Darkness
Lorian narrowed his eyes. The figure resembled a man, yet its face was obscured by a thick veil of mist. It was neither entirely human nor fully a creature. When it spoke, its voice did not travel through the air but echoed inside Lorian's mind.
"You have come this far, but you still carry the weight of your past. If you wish to reach the summit, you must face yourself."
Lorian frowned. "Face myself?" he muttered.
The figure stepped forward, and the mist thinned.
For a split second, Lorian saw its face—and his breath caught in his throat.
It was him.
But different. Its eyes burned with rage, and it wore the same clothes as Lorian, yet they were cloaked in a dark, malevolent aura. The realization hit him like a hammer: he was staring at the embodiment of his own doubts, fears, and darkness.
"I am the shadow you cast. The embodiment of your fears, your regrets, and your failures."
Battle with the Shadow
Lorian drew his sword.
His shadow did the same.
For a moment, they stood motionless, mirroring each other perfectly.
Then, as if guided by the same force, they lunged at each other simultaneously.
Steel clashed against steel, the ringing sound echoing through the mountain pass. Lorian struck with all his might, but his shadow anticipated every move, matching his techniques blow for blow.
Fighting himself was like battling a mirror—every attack countered, every strike met with equal force. But the worst part was that the shadow wasn't just physically strong; it was attacking his mind as well.
"Do you truly believe you can reach the summit?" the shadow whispered, pushing him back.
"You couldn't save them."
Memories crashed into Lorian's mind—lost comrades, failures, moments when he had been powerless.
For a brief moment, his sword felt heavy in his hands.
And in that instant, his shadow struck.
A sharp pain exploded in his arm as the blade cut through his skin. He staggered back, gritting his teeth.
"You crave power, but can you truly bear its weight?"
Lorian closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Then, he opened them, his hesitation gone.
"Yes, I have made mistakes." He exhaled. "Yes, my past is filled with darkness. But I am still standing."
He tightened his grip on his sword and stepped forward.
This time, he wasn't afraid.
Blades clashed once more, but now Lorian's strikes were sharper, more decisive. The whispers of his shadow no longer fazed him. He found an opening and, with one final thrust, drove his blade through the shadow's chest.
The shadow staggered backward, its form unraveling into wisps of darkness. Its final words echoed in the wind:
"Do not reject your darkness… Embrace it. Only then can you be free."
Lorian fell to one knee, breathing heavily. But something inside him felt lighter.