The staircase thrummed like a living vein of stone, every step alive with the watchers' hunger.
Kaelen held Lyra close, her blood dripping through his fingers. She had refused to give up her name, and for that refusal, the board had punished her mercilessly.
Now the weight of judgment shifted to him.
The relic in his hand pulsed erratically, each beat syncing with his racing heart. Then the voice of the watchers coiled into his mind, suffocating and inescapable:
"Fire-bearer. Sacrifice your flame."
Kaelen froze. His flame wasn't just power—it was survival, identity, rebellion. Without it, he was nothing.
He clenched his teeth, veins burning with defiance. "No."
The air crushed around him instantly. His fire stuttered in his veins, flickering as though invisible hands were strangling it out of existence. His body trembled, knees nearly buckling. The relic screamed inside him, its light fighting to stay alive.
Lyra's hand gripped his wrist, eyes blazing through her pain. "Don't let them! That fire is yours, Kaelen. They can't have it!"
The candle-bearer, pale with terror, staggered closer. "You don't understand! If you refuse, they'll double the cost. The board always collects its debt!"
The watchers laughed—an echo that felt like endless thunder, shaking the stair beneath them.
"Choose. Yield your flame and live hollow. Or keep it—and we take flesh instead. Either way, you are less than whole."
Kaelen's breath hitched. He saw flashes—his fire gone, himself broken, Lyra standing alone. Rage burned hotter than fear. His lips curled into a snarl.
"You don't get to choose what I keep."
The relic exploded with light, a white-hot blaze that burst from his palm in a column reaching into the infinite dark. The fire roared so loud it drowned the watchers' laughter.
For a heartbeat, the staircase itself seemed to recoil.
Then the cracks came. Black fissures tore open in the steps, bleeding shadow. From the gaps, forms began to climb—tall, lean, and eerily familiar.
Kaelen's blood ran cold.
They were him.
Copies of Kaelen, sculpted from shadow, each one carrying a flame that burned wrong—black fire, hungry and hollow.
Lyra staggered back, sword raised, horror in her eyes. "Kaelen… they've made you fight yourself."
The candle-bearer's flame trembled. "The board has birthed your shadow pieces. Every move you make… they'll mirror it until you break."
The nearest shadow raised its hand, black fire licking its palm. Its faceless head tilted, like a predator mocking its prey.
Kaelen's flame surged in answer. His voice was low, dangerous.
"Then let's see which of us burns brighter."
The shadows lunged.
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