Chapter 308
The path to the Temple of the Moon Ascendant was like nothing Elyra had ever imagined. The dense forest had gradually given way to rocky cliffs and twisted stone pathways, the air growing heavier with each step. The wind howled around them, carrying with it a sense of foreboding that made Elyra’s skin prickle with unease. They had reached the outskirts of the temple grounds, and yet, something about the place felt wrong, as though it were alive, watching them.
“Do you feel that?” Elyra whispered to Dain, her voice tense.
Dain didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed ahead, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I do. It’s as if the very stone is… alive,” he muttered, his voice filled with suspicion.
They moved cautiously, step by careful step, as they neared the entrance of the ancient temple. The stone pillars that flanked the pathway were adorned with symbols Elyra couldn’t quite decipher, but she knew, deep in her bones, that they were not welcoming them—they were warning them.
As they crossed the threshold, the air seemed to shimmer, rippling like water disturbed by an unseen force. Elyra paused, narrowing her eyes. There was something strange happening around them, something she couldn’t quite grasp.
And then, it began.
A low rumble echoed through the temple’s vast hall, and the ground beneath their feet trembled. Elyra felt a shift in the atmosphere—an oppressive weight that seemed to settle on her chest, pushing the air out of her lungs.
“Stay alert,” Dain whispered, his voice tight with tension.
Suddenly, the air around them shimmered once more, and the world seemed to twist. Elyra’s surroundings blurred, melting into a swirling vortex of light and shadow. She stumbled, reaching out to Dain, but he was already disappearing into the mist.
A cold laugh echoed in the distance, and Elyra felt a chill crawl up her spine. The sound of her own footsteps grew louder, as though she were walking alone, trapped in a nightmare.
“What’s happening?” Elyra gasped, trying to steady herself. The world around her was distorting, the walls of the temple warping into grotesque, twisted shapes. She could feel a darkness rising, an ancient presence awakening in the depths of the temple.
And then, she saw it—her reflection, but not as she was.
In the center of the room, a mirror appeared out of thin air, its surface rippling like water. Elyra stepped closer, drawn by a force she couldn’t explain. The reflection staring back at her was not the Elyra she knew. Instead, it was a vision of herself—darker, more sinister.
She was standing in the midst of a vast throne room, bathed in red light. The air was thick with tension, and at her feet knelt a group of people, their faces twisted with fear and reverence. Elyra—this tyrant version of herself—stood tall, a crown of obsidian on her head, her eyes cold and devoid of mercy. Power surged through her, intoxicating and absolute.
But as she looked down at the trembling figures at her feet, a sense of emptiness washed over her. The power was hollow, a poison that had corrupted her from within. She could feel herself slipping into this darkness, losing her humanity, becoming something she was never meant to be.
“No… this isn’t me,” Elyra gasped, stepping back, her heart pounding in her chest.
But the image in the mirror didn’t fade. Instead, it grew more vivid, the tyrant version of her smiling cruelly. “This is your destiny, Elyra,” the reflection whispered. “Power is all that matters. Embrace it, and you’ll never be alone again.”
Elyra closed her eyes, shaking her head furiously. “No. I won’t become that.”
As she stumbled away from the mirror, the world around her twisted again, and she heard Dain’s voice calling out to her, faint and distant. Her heart surged with relief, but the nightmare wasn’t over.
She turned toward the sound of his voice, and there he was, standing before another mirror, his face pale, his expression haunted. He didn’t notice her at first, his eyes locked on the reflection in front of him.
This reflection was different. It was Dain, yes—but not the Dain Elyra knew. This Dain was broken, defeated. He stood in a crumbling kingdom, the ruins of a city smoldering around him. His once-strong frame was hunched with weariness, his eyes dull with despair. His hands were empty, no sword, no power to protect anyone. The people who had once followed him now turned their backs, abandoning him in his moment of weakness. The image of Elyra appeared briefly, standing beside him—but she was gone just as quickly, a fleeting specter in his broken world.
“Dain, no,” Elyra whispered, reaching out to him, but he couldn’t hear her.
He stared at the broken reflection of himself. “I’ve lost everything,” the image of Dain said, his voice hollow. “There’s nothing left.”
Elyra’s heart clenched with pain. She wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that none of this was real, that he was still the strong, determined man she knew. But the reflection of Dain spoke again, and his words chilled her to the bone.
“You’ll leave me too, Elyra,” the image of Dain whispered. “You’ll abandon me just like everyone else. You always will.”
Elyra recoiled, but she couldn’t escape the illusion. The fear of losing him—of being alone—was too real. It was as if the temple was feeding off her doubts, using them to tear her apart from the inside out.
“No, I won’t leave you,” she said desperately, her voice breaking.
But as she reached for Dain, the reflection of him flickered and faded, leaving behind only the echo of his tortured words.
A sudden, booming voice shattered the silence, a deep resonance that seemed to shake the very foundation of the temple.
“Choose wisely, or fall together.”
The words rang in the air, carrying a weight that pressed down on Elyra’s chest. She spun, but there was no one there, just the endless stretch of the temple, its shadows closing in on them. The air was thick with a menacing energy, the walls seeming to lean in, pressing in on her and Dain from all sides.
She had no choice but to face the truth. The temple was testing them. Pitting their darkest fears against them, to see if they were strong enough to endure. Elyra could feel it in her bones—the power of the temple was trying to break them, to separate them, to force them into making an impossible decision.
Her heart raced. The stakes had never been higher.
And then, she turned to Dain, her eyes filled with desperation. “What do we do?”
-: A booming voice commands, “Choose wisely, or fall together.”
~
