The echoes were gone, yet the hall still breathed with quiet tension. Ash drifted down like gray snow, and through the cracked stained glass, sunlight spilled in pale shards that painted the floor in fractured colors. The Keeper stood unmoving at the far end, her robes fluttering faintly in the ghost-cold air. She looked less like a woman and more like the last thought of this place made flesh.
"You handled the echoes," she said, her voice a slow ripple through the silence, "but the monastery does not open its heart to those who fight blindly."
Mira crossed her arms. "We just saved your hall from a bunch of walking shadows. That should earn us something better than riddles."
The Keeper's gaze shifted toward her, calm and cold. "Shadows are not enemies. They are mirrors. The true danger lies beneath these stones."
Kael's armor gave a low hum as Draga's lightning still threaded faintly through it. "Then tell us what's waiting down there."
The Keeper tilted her head slightly. "That is for the one who carries both the dawn and the dusk to decide."
Elira froze. The words landed like a whisper inside her chest. She could feel Lumeveil pulse faintly at her side.
Mira blinked. "Both dawn and dusk? What's that supposed to mean?"
But Elira already knew. She had known for months, since the first night Lumeveil's light had flickered and shown her the shadow hidden beneath. She stepped forward, quiet but steady, her silver hair catching both sunlight and the dark shimmer that gathered around her. "It means me," she said softly.
The Keeper's eyes gleamed. "Then show me."
The temperature in the hall dropped sharply. Lines of faint light crawled across the floor, forming a circle of symbols that pulsed between white and black. From its edges, darkness began to thicken — not the whispery echoes from before, but a heavy, living shadow, as if the monastery itself exhaled its buried sins.
Kael tightened his grip on his gauntlet. "We can handle this."
Elira shook her head. "No. We handle it — together."
Her fingers brushed the hilt at her waist. A slow breath steadied her pulse as she called out — not a chant of awakening, but the name that had always been hers to command.
"Lumeveil — form of truth."
Light burst from the blade's guard, chased immediately by a wave of soft darkness. The sword took shape in full — its edge a spiral of white and black steel, each color folding into the other like flowing silk. For the first time, its true form stood revealed: a perfect equilibrium of radiance and shadow, beautiful and terrifying all at once.
Mira stared, her breath catching. "Elira… your blade—"
"I know," Elira said. "You see it now."
The shadows surged, and the floor trembled.
Kael moved first. "Pulse Vault!"
Lightning cracked outward from his gauntlet, scattering the first wave of shadows before they reached the trio. Mira's voice followed immediately, sharp and clear. "Crimson Deluge!" Flame and steam roared into a wall of burning water, sweeping the flank and freezing into glittering shards as she shifted seamlessly into "Glacier Break!"
Elira moved between them, her sword flashing in alternating hues. When she swung, light blazed; when she turned, shadow followed. Each motion carried a precision she had never touched before — like she was no longer fighting the balance, but flowing with it. The sword's hum deepened, resonant with both her heartbeats.
"Sanctaria Light!" she cried, and a radiant arc swept through the center of the hall, dissolving three shadow forms at once. Before the flare could fade, she shifted stance, the brightness folding into ink-black motion. "Eclipsaria." She vanished into her own shadow, reappearing behind the next mass of darkness, cutting through it before it could reform.
"Left side!" Mira shouted.
"Got it." Elira pivoted, her blade whistling through the air. A flash of black light cleaved the dark mist apart. For a heartbeat, the opposing forces collided — light flaring, darkness curling inward — and then both burst outward in a wind that smelled faintly of ozone and old dust.
Kael slammed his gauntlet into the ground. "Iron Lockstep!" The floor cracked in a shockwave, binding the last cluster of shadows. Elira leapt, her body instinctively guided by the rhythm of her sword. She landed in the heart of the circle, the black-white edge of Lumeveil carving a cross of brilliance through the imprisoned mass.
A sound like a deep sigh filled the hall. The shadows unraveled, fading into motes of gray light that drifted upward and vanished through the beams of the shattered windows.
When the dust finally settled, Elira stood still, her blade lowered. The glow along its surface dimmed to a calm sheen, half silver, half deep gray. She breathed out slowly, the dual power inside her chest steady and quiet — not at war, but coexisting, breathing together.
Mira and Kael approached, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief.
Mira broke the silence first. "You… you had a dark attribute all this time?"
Elira nodded, her tone gentle but firm. "Yes. I didn't hide it out of fear. I just needed to understand it before I showed it to anyone."
Kael frowned slightly. "That's not something most people could control."
Elira looked down at Lumeveil. "Light isn't always safety, Kael. And darkness isn't always evil. Together, they make something whole."
Lumeveil's voice echoed softly within her thoughts — a whisper of warmth tinged with pride. "You've learned to walk where others would only choose."
The Keeper, who had been silent throughout the battle, finally stepped forward. Her steps were soundless, her eyes bright as moonlight. She studied Elira for a long moment, then inclined her head ever so slightly.
"You bear both illumination and concealment," she said. "And yet neither consumes you. That is… rare."
Elira sheathed Lumeveil, the last trace of light fading from the blade as it rested at her side. She didn't answer right away. The others waited — for an explanation, a reassurance, something. But she only looked at the cracked glass windows above them, where day and shadow mixed across the floor like the reflection of her own soul.
For a brief, perfect moment, she felt still. Balanced. Whole.
The Keeper's expression softened into something unreadable. "Rest," she said quietly. "You may stay within these walls tonight."
Mira exhaled, her tension finally breaking. "That's… a first."
Kael nodded once, scanning the now-quiet hall. "I'll take it."
Elira gave a faint smile and touched the pendant at her chest — the one that still pointed the way forward. The light from it blinked once, steady and small. Dust Ruin was still waiting beyond these walls.
As the firelight from their camp later flickered against the stone, Elira sat apart from the others, tracing the twin lines of black and white along Lumeveil's blade. In their reflection, she saw not opposition, but a path — two halves of the same promise.
Outside, the night deepened.
Inside, under broken glass and old prayers, the Keeper watched them in silence — as if the monastery itself was holding its breath, waiting for what would come next.