The figure before her wore her face but none of her fear. It smiled with cruel certainty.
"You think you're a savior?" it hissed. "You're just a pawn with delusions of grandeur."
Elara drew her blade, but the reflection did the same.
They clashed—steel to steel in the Hollow, where emotions became weapons. Each strike released a wave of memory: Aldric's lips on her collarbone. Her father's hand slipping from hers in the hospital. Nathan, whispering, I believe in you.
Each memory stung.
But her resolve burned hotter.
"You are not me," she growled. "You are who I refuse to become."
She unleashed the second glyph—channeling what she'd learned from the forbidden book. Light and shadow burst from her chest, severing the reflection in a scream of smoke.
The prison shattered.
Nathan fell into her arms, gasping.
"Elara…?"
She held him tightly. "I'm here. I'm here."
The Hollow trembled.
She summoned the return sigil and leapt through the portal as the realm collapsed behind her.
Back in the Tower, Aldric caught them both.
"You went too far," he whispered.
"I went far enough," she said. "I got him back."
Nathan blinked up at her.
But in the corner of the room, the shadow of her reflection lingered—watching.