The staircase cracked underfoot as the shadows advanced.
They were Kaelen—same height, same frame, same fire—but their flames burned black, swallowing light instead of giving it. Their faces were voids, as though the watchers had erased his soul and left only the husk.
The first shadow lunged, its hand blazing with corrupt fire. Kaelen met it head-on. When their flames collided, the air detonated with a shockwave, the gold of his light clashing violently against the black of its counterfeit.
It was like fighting a mirror that anticipated every strike.
The force drove Kaelen back a step. His jaw tightened. "So that's how it is."
Another shadow slid in low, its movements smooth and predatory. Lyra struck before it could reach him, her sword cleaving across its chest. Black sparks erupted, sizzling like acid as they hit the stair. The shadow staggered but did not fall.
Her voice was ragged but sharp. "They bleed. That means they can be killed."
Kaelen swung fire in an arc, driving back three more shadows. They countered in perfect synchrony, their black flames wrapping around his blaze like chains. His arms trembled with the effort—it felt like fighting the worst version of himself, amplified a hundredfold.
The candle-bearer stumbled as one shadow lunged toward them. Their tiny flame flared desperately. To Kaelen's shock, the shadow reeled back, its black fire sputtering where the light touched it.
The candle-bearer gasped. "It… it hurts them!"
Kaelen seized the moment. "Then burn harder!"
The stairwell became war. Shadows swarmed like a tide, black fire raining down in waves. Lyra's blade sang with defiance, cutting through the dark even as blood stained her side. The candle-bearer's flame, small but fierce, stabbed into the advancing mass like a star refusing to die.
Still, the shadows did not thin. For every one they cut down, another clawed its way out of the cracks.
Kaelen's chest heaved, sweat mingling with ash. His fire raged, but doubt pressed in. The watchers' voice slithered through the roar of battle:
"Endless, fire-bearer. You fight forever. For every victory, a new shadow. How long before your blaze is nothing but smoke?"
Kaelen's teeth ground together. His flame flared higher, brighter, like a sun breaking through storm.
"Long enough," he snarled, eyes blazing, "to turn your darkness to ash."
Lyra staggered to his side, bloodied but unbowed. She raised her sword in grim solidarity. "Then we burn together."
For an instant, their flames—gold and steel—merged, flaring so fiercely the shadows hissed and shrank back. The stair itself trembled under the surge, light carving cracks into the darkness.
The shadows faltered. For the first time, they weren't pressing forward.
Kaelen narrowed his eyes. "They fear it… not just fire, not just steel. They fear unity."
The watchers went silent.
The shadows froze at the edges of the stair, their black fire guttering.
Kaelen stood taller, hand gripping the relic, Lyra steady at his side, and the candle-bearer's flame flickering bright. For the first time since the battle began, the tide had shifted.
But Kaelen knew it was only the beginning. If unity could weaken the shadows, then the next test would strike at the one thing the board craved to break apart—their bond itself.