The air inside the ruined fortress felt heavier with every step.
Stone walls leaned inward as though strangled by the thick mist that coiled through the halls. The torches they carried hissed against the damp, their flames sputtering small in the clinging cold. The silence was not empty—it was listening.
Elira's grip tightened on her sword hilt, knuckles white. Her silver braid brushed her back as she glanced to Mira and Keal. Both were silent, but their postures sharp, alert.
"Something's wrong," Mira murmured. Frost already gathered on her palm, faint sparks of light weaving into it. Her voice carried a quiet authority. "This isn't natural fog. The mana… it's twisted."
Keal stepped forward, boots crunching on shattered stone. His dark eyes narrowed as his hand traced the surface of the wall, where faint cracks glowed with eerie residue. "Phantom element," he said grimly. "This place is infested."
Elira's stomach turned. Phantom. She had heard the whispers—creatures that wore the faces of the dead.
Before she could speak, the mist stirred.
Shapes began to crawl from the haze, vague outlines that sharpened into detail. Footsteps echoed—soft, deliberate, too familiar.
The first phantom took form before Keal.
A tall man, his broad frame cloaked in memory more than flesh. His face was stern, the same eyes that Keal bore, but colder, heavier. His father. Long dead, yet here he was, standing with a blade in hand.
"You've learned nothing," the man's voice cut through the fog, every syllable like stone breaking. "Still chasing strength you'll never have. Still weak."
Keal froze, teeth clenched. For a heartbeat he looked like a boy again, not the warrior Elira had fought beside. Then his hand tightened around his sword.
"You're dead," he growled. "And I'll never be your shadow again!"
His blade cleaved downward, earth shuddering at the strike. Lightning burst along the ground, scattering the phantom into smoke.
The fog recoiled—only to reform before Mira.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. Before her stood a woman draped in simple robes, smile gentle, hands outstretched. "Mira," the figure whispered, her tone full of warmth. "Come home, my child."
Mira's breath caught, her composure cracking for the first time. Elira saw the tension in her jaw, the faint tremor in her hand. Then, with a sharp inhale, Mira's gaze hardened.
"You're not her."
She thrust both arms forward. Fire and water surged together, whirling into a blazing torrent. The air screamed as the fusion erupted, swallowing the phantom in crimson flame and boiling steam. The figure's voice twisted into a wail before shattering into nothing.
The mist recoiled again. This time, it turned toward Elira.
Her breath hitched as a silhouette walked out of the fog. Each step was calm, precise, carrying weight. A familiar presence pressed against her chest until she could hardly breathe.
Black hair. Sharp eyes of steel. A glaive strapped across her back.
Selene.
Elira's sword nearly slipped from her hands. "No… no, this can't…"
The phantom's voice was the same cold steadiness she had known. "You're weak, Elira. You always were. Without me. Without him. You are nothing."
Her chest constricted. Her legs felt rooted in place. Memories of the training yard surged back—Selene's voice, her commands, the harsh lessons that had driven Elira until her muscles tore.
"Stop it," Elira whispered. "You're not—"
"Not what?" The phantom tilted her head, black hair sliding across her cheek. "Not real? Look closer. I was stronger than you then, and I am stronger now. Put down that blade. You can't fight me."
Her vision blurred. Tears burned at the edge of her eyes. She shook her head desperately. "How… how could you be here? How could you be dead?!"
The phantom's expression didn't change. "Because the world doesn't need us anymore. It never needed me. And it doesn't need you."
The words struck like blades, carving through her will. She staggered back, heart pounding. "This isn't real… it can't be real…!"
The phantom raised her glaive, shadows and frost curling along the blade. The weight of killing intent pressed down, suffocating.
"Elira!" Mira's voice broke through the fog, muffled and distant. "Fight it!"
Keal's voice followed, raw with urgency. "It's not her—it's the monster! Don't give in!"
But they couldn't reach her. The phantom's barrier locked her in.
Elira's knees threatened to buckle. Her grip faltered. She felt the hopelessness drag at her, a current she couldn't escape.
Then the pendant at her chest seared hot, like fire against her skin.
She gasped, clutching it. A memory not of words but of presence flooded her—a weight, a promise, a hand guiding her forward.
Her tears fell, but her eyes sharpened. She raised her sword with both hands.
"No. You're not Selene. You're just a shadow. A lie."
Wind surged, light bursting through the cracks of despair. Power answered her call. She swung with everything she had.
"Aerial Radiance!"
The blade sang as wind and light entwined, a radiant crescent tearing through the phantom's form.
The figure screamed—not in Selene's voice, but in something twisted and monstrous—as the fog shattered. The body dissolved into smoke and fragments of mana, shrieking until silence swallowed it whole.
The mist across the fortress collapsed, streaming upward like smoke vanishing into the night. The air grew lighter. The crushing pressure lifted.
Elira dropped to one knee, chest heaving, sword trembling in her grip.
Footsteps rushed to her side. Mira knelt, hand steady on her shoulder. "You did it." Her voice was firm but softer than usual. "You cut it down."
Keal stood close, his own breathing heavy. His dark eyes lingered on the empty air where the phantom had stood. "Fantomy can only become the dead. That means…" His voice dropped lower. "…Selene is truly gone."
Elira's hand tightened on her sword until her knuckles ached. Her throat burned. "How… how could she…" Her voice cracked, then steadied into a whisper. "No matter what… I'll keep moving forward."
The pendant against her chest pulsed once, faint but certain.
She rose slowly, wiping her eyes, gaze sharp once more.
"Let's finish this place. Then… whatever comes next, I'll be ready."
The fortress stood silent now, its shadows banished, but in Elira's heart the echo of Selene's voice lingered—cut, but not forgotten.