I watched the last of the mirrors shatter under Laina's bow. The fragments fell, revealing a narrow passage beyond. The reflections that had held Joran captive were gone, though something in his eyes told me their effect lingered.
"That's all of them," Laina said, lowering her weapon. Strands of black hair had escaped her braid during our work, framing her face in wild disarray. Her violet eyes darted between the newly revealed passage and Joran, who stood motionless amid the broken glass.
"Let's move," I said, sheathing Heartseeker. "We've spent too much time here already."
Joran nodded, but his movements seemed mechanical as he followed us toward the passage. I hung back, letting him go ahead. When he'd passed, I caught Laina's arm.
"Watch him," I murmured, keeping my voice low. "Something happened to him in here."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I noticed. The crown?"
"Among other things."
I didn't mention the smile I'd seen on his reflection's face – that knowing, almost predatory expression that had nothing of Joran in it. Some things were better left unsaid until I understood them better.
The passage led us back to the central chamber. As we emerged, I noticed the doorway we'd just exited had changed – where before it had been dark, now a pale blue light glowed around its frame.
"Four down," Laina observed. "Two to go."
Two more trials before we faced the Winter King himself. I rotated slowly, studying the remaining dark doorways. Both looked identical – simple stone arches leading to shadowed chambers beyond.
"Which one?" Joran asked.
I approached the doorway directly across from where we'd entered the Temple. Unlike the others, this one had no distinctive features – no heat, no cold, no shimmering air to warn of what lay within. Just darkness.
"This one," I decided, drawing Heartseeker again. The blade's warm glow pushed back the shadows, but only barely. "Stay close."
Laina moved to my side, her hand resting on her knife hilt. Joran followed a step behind, his earlier distraction seemingly replaced by his usual watchfulness.
We crossed the threshold together.
At first, I thought we'd entered an empty room. The chamber appeared barren – a simple square space with smooth stone walls and no visible exits. No fire, no ice, no mirrors. Just silence.
Then I heard it – a whisper so faint I almost missed it.
"You'll fail them just like you failed your father."
I froze, my grip tightening on Heartseeker. The voice had come from nowhere and everywhere, speaking directly into my mind.
"Did you hear that?" I asked, turning to Laina.
Her face had gone pale, her eyes widening as she stared at something I couldn't see. "Make it stop," she whispered.
"You're nothing but a slum rat playing at being a hero," the voice continued in my head. "When it matters most, you'll break. You always do."
I forced myself to breathe evenly. The whispers weren't telling me anything I hadn't told myself countless times before. My own doubts, my own fears, thrown back at me with perfect accuracy. Uncomfortable, but not devastating.
Laina wasn't faring as well. She'd pressed her hands against her ears, though it clearly did nothing to block the voices only she could hear. Her breathing had quickened, her eyes darting around the chamber as if tracking invisible assailants.
"Laina," I called, reaching for her arm. "It's not real."
She jerked away from my touch, stumbling backward. "No!" she cried, her voice raw with emotion. "I did everything I could!"
Joran stood a few paces away, his face a mask of concentration. Whatever voices he heard, he was fighting them silently, his jaw clenched tight enough to strain the tendons in his neck.
"Your mother will die choking on core dust because you weren't strong enough to save her," the whisper hissed in my ear. "Miri will end up selling herself in the Depths because her big brother's grand plan failed."
I gritted my teeth against the assault. "It's the Chamber," I said loudly, focusing on Laina who seemed most affected. "It's using our own fears against us."
Laina had backed herself against the wall, sliding down until she sat huddled on the floor. Tears streaked her face, her composure completely shattered. I'd never seen her like this – the fierce, confident archer reduced to a trembling shell.
"You left them to die," the whisper continued in her ear, loud enough now that I could hear it too. "You ran while they burned."
"No," she moaned, rocking slightly. "I couldn't get to them."
I moved toward her carefully, ignoring the increasingly vicious whispers in my own mind. Kneeling before her, I deliberately blocked her view of the rest of the chamber.
"Laina," I said firmly. "Look at me."
Her eyes struggled to focus on my face.
"Whatever you're hearing, it's not true," I continued, keeping my voice steady. "It's the trial. It's designed to break us."
"You could have saved them if you'd been braver," the whisper told her. "Your father called your name as he burned."
A sob tore from her throat, her fingers digging into her scalp as if she could claw the voices out. "I was just a child," she whispered brokenly. "I couldn't... I didn't know..."
I reached out slowly and took her hands in mine, gently pulling them away from her head. Her fingers were ice-cold despite the moderate temperature of the chamber.
"Listen to me," I said. "Not them. Me." I squeezed her hands, trying to ground her in the present. "You're Laina, daughter of a Knight of the Eternal Flame. You're the best archer in what's left of Frostfall. You're stubborn and brave and a complete pain in my ass sometimes."
A flicker of recognition crossed her face at that last part, the faintest suggestion of her usual defiant spirit.
"The whispers are using your past against you," I continued. "Things you couldn't control. Things no one could have controlled."
"You've failed everyone who ever counted on you," my own whispers continued. "You'll fail these people too."
"Shut up," I muttered, then focused back on Laina. "Whatever happened back then, it wasn't your fault. You were a child."
"I should have been stronger," she whispered, but her eyes were clearer now, more present.
"You survived," I countered. "That takes strength too."
Across the chamber, Joran had sunk to his knees, his hands pressed flat against the stone floor as if anchoring himself. His lips moved in silent argument with whatever voices tormented him.
"We need to find the way out," I told Laina, helping her to her feet. Her legs trembled, but she stood. "Like the mirrors, there must be a way to pass this trial."
"You're going to die here, and no one back home will ever know what happened to you," the whisper promised. "Your mother will think you abandoned her, just like your father did."
I pushed the voice aside, focusing on the chamber around us. The walls appeared solid, with no hidden passages or doors that I could see. Unlike the previous trials, there seemed to be nothing to overcome or destroy.
"What's the purpose of this chamber?" I wondered aloud. "The others all tested something specific – courage, acceptance of mortality, perception. What's this one testing?"
Laina wiped her tears with the back of her hand, visibly struggling to regain her composure. "Facing our guilt," she said hoarsely. "Our regrets."
It made sense. The whispers targeted our deepest shames, the moments that defined us through failure rather than success. My father's death. Laina's inability to save her family. Whatever haunted Joran.
"Then maybe that's how we pass," I suggested. "Not by fighting the whispers, but by accepting them. By acknowledging our failures without letting them destroy us."
Laina's eyes met mine, understanding dawning in their violet depths. "Acceptance."
I nodded, then crossed to where Joran knelt. He flinched when I touched his shoulder, his eyes wild when they met mine.
"Joran," I said. "We need to accept what the voices are saying. Not fight them."
He stared at me as if I'd suggested setting ourselves on fire. "Accept? These lies?"
"Not lies," I clarified. "Our fears. Our regrets. The parts of ourselves we're most ashamed of."
"You're nothing but a thief and a liar," the whisper hissed. "Everything you've ever accomplished came from deceiving others."
I took a deep breath. "Yes," I said aloud. "I've lied. I've stolen. I've hurt people to protect myself and my family. I'm not proud of it, but I accept that it's part of who I am."
The whispers targeting me faltered momentarily, then returned with renewed venom. "You'll never be worthy of the power you seek. You're broken inside, Isaiah Angelo. Damaged beyond repair."
"Maybe," I agreed, my voice steady. "But broken things can still be useful. Damaged things can still have purpose."
Laina had straightened, her tears still damp on her cheeks but her expression hardening with resolve. "I was a child when my family died," she said to the empty air. "I couldn't save them. That guilt has shaped me, but it doesn't define me."
Joran remained silent, his internal struggle visible in the tightness of his jaw and the tremor in his hands. Whatever his whispers told him, he wasn't ready to acknowledge them aloud.
"It's okay," I told him. "Take your time."
"Even if you survive this trial, you'll never make it home," my whisper insisted, though its voice seemed weaker now. "This world will claim you, just like it claims everyone."
"Maybe it will," I conceded. "But I'll fight until the end. Not because I'm special or chosen, but because it's all I know how to do."
As I spoke these words, a subtle change rippled through the chamber. The air seemed to lighten, the oppressive weight of the whispers diminishing by degrees. A faint outline appeared on the far wall – the suggestion of a doorway where none had been before.
"There," I pointed. "It's working."
Laina nodded, her shoulders straightening as she visibly reclaimed her strength. "I accept my past failures," she said more confidently. "But I refuse to let them determine my future."
The doorway solidified further, edged now in pale light that pushed back the shadows. Only Joran remained locked in his private battle, still kneeling on the stone floor.
I crouched beside him. "Joran. Whatever they're telling you, you need to face it."
His eyes, gray-green and haunted, met mine. "I can't," he whispered.
"You can," I insisted. "The only way out is through."
He shook his head fractionally. "If I accept what they're saying... what I saw in the mirror..." He swallowed hard. "I'm afraid of what it means."
I understood then. The crowned reflection. The hunger in his eyes. Whatever ambition lurked in Joran's heart, he feared acknowledging it would make it real.
"Sometimes," I said quietly, "accepting a truth doesn't mean embracing it. It just means recognizing it exists."
He held my gaze for a long moment, then gave a single, sharp nod. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he faced the empty chamber.
"I hear you," he said, his voice barely audible. "I know what I want. What I've always wanted." He paused, his shoulders rising with a deep breath. "But wanting power doesn't mean I'll take it. Not at any cost."
The doorway brightened, now fully formed and open. Beyond it, I could see the central chamber waiting for us.
"This isn't over," my whisper promised as we moved toward the exit. "We'll be waiting when your guard drops."
"I know," I murmured. "You always are."
We stepped through the doorway together, leaving the Chamber of Whispers behind. As we emerged, I saw Laina wipe away the last traces of tears from her face, her composure mostly restored though her eyes remained haunted.
"Are you okay?" I asked her quietly.
She nodded stiffly. "I will be."
We turned to find the fifth doorway now illuminated, its frame glowing the same pale blue as the others. One more trial remained before we faced the Winter King himself.
But first, I needed to understand what had happened to my companions in these chambers – particularly Joran, whose reflection had smiled at me with someone else's intent.
As if reading my thoughts, Joran moved to the center of the chamber, staring up at the column of swirling blue light that extended infinitely upward.
"One more," he said, his voice steady once more. "Then we face him."
"Then we face him," I echoed, watching the way the light played across his features.