Night had barely lifted its shroud over the ruined valley before the screaming started.
It wasn't a normal scream—no. This was something primal. A tearing, soul-wrenching howl that echoed through stone and sky. It tore through trees, startled the birds into flight, and sent every living thing scattering into the dark.
Liora sat up instantly, her body still sore from the soul backlash. Beside her, Iskar was already drawing his blade, face grim. The other survivors stirred in panic, weapons in hand, but it was already too late.
The forest exploded.
Branches snapped like brittle bones as something hurtled through the underbrush at terrifying speed. Then—there she was.
Her.
But not.
The doppelgänger Liora.
She moved like a phantom on fire. Her eyes glowed a sickly silver, her skin pale as moonstone, marked with jagged black sigils. Veil energy shimmered around her like a violent storm made flesh.
And she was smiling.
"Hello, me," she whispered.
Liora didn't hesitate.
"Scatter!" she shouted to the others, already hurling a wall of flame between them and the camp. "She's mine."
The copy launched forward—faster than lightning. They clashed in mid-air, veil and void crashing together in an explosion that cracked the earth. The air screamed between them.
Liora snarled, pushing against her copy's grip, their hands locked in a battle of wills.
"You're nothing but a twisted echo," Liora hissed.
"I'm the future," the doppelgänger grinned. "You're just the cocoon."
Then she headbutted her.
Liora staggered back, blood in her mouth.
The doppelgänger vanished and reappeared behind her, blade drawn—her blade. A perfect mimic of the soul-forged weapon Alric once left behind.
How did she—?
Pain lanced through Liora's side as the weapon grazed her ribs, slicing flesh.
Liora dropped to one knee, growling. The shard in her chest pulsed—calling, begging to be unleashed. But something in her hesitated.
No… she needed control. Not chaos. Not this thing's madness.
"You're holding back," the echo taunted. "Still trying to be noble? Still clinging to rules? That's why you'll die."
The next strike was aimed for her throat.
But it never landed.
Iskar's blade intercepted it mid-swing, knocking the doppelgänger back just enough for Liora to get her footing. Blood dripped from his temple, but his eyes were clear.
"Two of you," he muttered. "Of course."
Liora rose, shoulder to shoulder with him.
"I'll handle her," she said. "You protect the others."
Iskar hesitated. "You sure?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't afford to not be.
With a snarl, she summoned her soul-fused shard in full. The magic wrapped around her like armor now—no longer just energy, but identity. It pulsed with the echoes of the lives she'd touched, the ones she'd lost, and the one she refused to become.
"I made you," she said to the doppelgänger. "But I'll be the one to end you."
They collided again—and this time, the forest burned.
Meanwhile, several leagues away, in the depths of an underground citadel hidden beneath the Obsidian Hills, the White Circle's inner chamber came alive.
Flames danced in ritual braziers as eight robed figures stood in a circle, chanting in a language older than kingdoms. Above them, the astral map shimmered—tracking Liora's energy signature, tracing every move she made.
"She's accelerating," said a voice, sharp and cold. "The trial must begin."
A woman stepped forward, revealing a skeletal mask over half her face. She was the Warden of Bone, a high-ranking zealot of the Circle's ruling caste.
"She must be broken before the ascension," she hissed. "The doppelgänger was only the first blow. We still have one card left."
Behind her, a steel door hissed open.
From the shadows, a figure emerged—cloaked in black, with silver runes etched across bare skin. He was chained at the wrists and neck, but even bound, his presence filled the room with dread.
The Ash-Eater.
A former Veil-tier mage who had consumed entire cities in a past era and vanished.
He bowed, chains rattling.
"Shall I be let off the leash?"
The Warden smiled.
"Yes. Show her what becoming a god really costs."
Back in the ruined forest, the battle reached its peak.
Liora and her copy circled each other like twin storms. Veil surged against void. Blade met blade.
But something was shifting.
With each strike, the doppelgänger learned. Adapted. It began mimicking her feints, countering her steps. It wasn't just echoing her movements—it was evolving.
Then it said something that chilled her to her core.
"You remember Alric's lullaby?" it whispered, lips brushing her ear mid-clash. "I do. I remember the way he died, too."
Liora froze. Just for a breath.
The copy drove its blade straight through her thigh.
White-hot pain.
Liora screamed and dropped, blood pooling.
The doppelgänger loomed above, victorious.
Until—
A spear tore through its chest from behind.
Kirin. The blind seer. Standing tall, eyes still white and unreadable.
He whispered something in a forgotten tongue.
The copy shrieked—not from pain, but from something deeper. Recognition. Her body began to tremble, destabilize. The runes across her skin cracked, leaked violet light.
"No… no!" she howled. "I'm not done yet!"
She exploded in a burst of corrupted veil energy—knocking Liora and Kirin backward into a heap of ash and silence.
When Liora opened her eyes, the copy was gone. But so was Kirin.
Just a pile of fine white dust in the shape of a kneeling man.
Liora tried to scream, but no sound came. She just wept silently, holding the ashes, as the wind began to howl again.