The air before dawn was thin and strange, heavy with the taste of iron and rain. Liora and Corren stood at the edge of a ravine where the desert abruptly fell away into darkness. The sands behind them still shimmered faintly with the residual glow of the Circle of Echoes, but ahead, nothing gleamed—no stars, no wind, no sound.
A black mist veiled the drop, moving with the slow deliberation of breath.
"This is it," Liora murmured. "The Circle of Shadows."
Corren peered into the abyss, hand on his sword hilt. "Doesn't look like much of a circle. More like a grave."
"Maybe it's both," she said.
They descended the narrow path that spiraled into the depths. The air grew colder with each step, and the mist thickened until even the sound of their footsteps vanished. It wasn't silence—it was absence, a swallowing of sound and meaning alike.
By the time they reached the bottom, the world around them had changed.
The ravine opened into a vast cavern, its walls slick and mirrorlike, reflecting faint shapes that didn't belong to either of them. The ground shimmered faintly beneath a film of black glass. Liora realized with a chill that the reflections weren't theirs—they were moving on their own, detached, flickering through postures she hadn't taken.
"Be careful," she said softly. "The Shadows here are alive."
Corren tested the surface with his boot. It didn't break. "Alive how?"
"Alive like memory. They feed on what we refuse to face."
The cavern trembled. From the far end, a slow ripple spread across the mirrored ground. Darkness rose—not like smoke, but like liquid. From it, figures began to take shape: human, at first, then animal, then indistinct things that seemed to borrow features from both.
One stepped forward, and Liora's breath caught.
It was her.
Or rather, what she might have been if she'd let go of restraint entirely. The Shadow-Liora was radiant with dark light, eyes burning gold, her movements languid and predatory. When she spoke, her voice came from everywhere at once.
"You've bound three Circles," it said. "You're remaking the world, piece by piece. But tell me, Liora—why?"
Liora's pulse quickened. "To restore what was lost."
The Shadow smiled. "Or to control it?"
Corren stepped between them, blade drawn. "Back away."
The Shadow's eyes flicked toward him, amused. "And you. The loyal blade. Do you even know what you're guarding? Every Circle she seals draws the old power closer to waking. The Unformed was sealed for a reason."
Corren's grip tightened. "We've heard enough lies for one lifetime."
"But not the truth," the Shadow said, its voice softening. "Ask her, soldier. Ask her what she saw in the depths when the sea remembered."
Liora's throat closed. "Stop."
"Ask her," it insisted, advancing. "Ask her whose voice she heard—who she was before this mortal shell."
Corren looked back at Liora. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
Liora hesitated, and the Shadow's smile widened.
"Ah. So there is."
The darkness around them thickened, rising up like water. The mirrored ground dissolved into ripples. They were sinking. Corren cursed, trying to find footing, but there was none—only reflection upon reflection, each one showing versions of themselves twisted by doubt and desire.
Liora's Shadow moved through the black water effortlessly. "This is the Circle of Shadows," it whispered. "Here, you do not fight what you fear—you become it."
Liora drew a breath, then forced her eyes open as the darkness swallowed her.
She was falling—not through space, but through versions of herself.
She saw herself as a child, playing at the edge of the marsh, unaware of the power sleeping within her. She saw herself as a woman standing over a burning village, the Beast at her side. She saw herself wearing the armor of light from another age, standing before an army that bowed to her will.
And then she saw nothing at all.
A voice whispered in the void. "You sealed me once, remember?"
Liora turned. The darkness condensed, taking shape. Two eyes opened, vast and golden. The Beast loomed before her—but not as it had been before. It was larger, its form uncertain, its body shifting between animal and human, male and female, flame and frost.
It smiled—a terrible, knowing smile. "You cannot bind me again, Shaper. Not without binding yourself."
Liora clenched her fists. "Then so be it."
She raised her hands, summoning light from within her chest. The power of the Circles she had bound flared around her—breath, depth, echo—all intertwining into a radiant weave.
The Beast only laughed.
"Still trying to fix what you broke. Still refusing to admit that the Unformed wasn't your enemy—it was your creation."
The words struck her like a physical blow. "No," she said, voice shaking. "The Unformed was chaos. It wanted to unmake everything."
"And who gave it that will?" the Beast whispered. "Who whispered the first word into its ear?"
She staggered back. "You're lying."
"Am I? You made the world with your voice. The Unformed was the echo of that creation—the part that refused to obey. You made it alive."
The darkness pulsed with every word. The ground beneath her feet rippled like liquid glass.
"You are not the healer you pretend to be," the Beast said. "You are the origin of all things broken."
Something inside her snapped.
She screamed—not in fear, but in fury—and light burst from her body, shattering the shadows. The Beast roared, dissolving into shards of golden flame that scattered across the void.
Liora fell to her knees, gasping. The echoes of her scream lingered, vibrating through the dark until they became words.
"I made you," the echoes whispered back. "And I will unmake you."
When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the cavern.
Corren knelt beside her, shaking her shoulder. "Liora! You were gone—I couldn't reach you!"
The mirrored ground was solid again, though cracks now ran across it like spiderwebs. From those cracks, faint threads of silver light seeped upward, weaving into patterns that pulsed with rhythm.
Liora pushed herself to her feet. "It's done. The Circle has tested me."
Corren studied her warily. "You're bleeding."
She touched her cheek and found a thin line of blood there—bright gold, not red. It shimmered briefly before fading. "It's not from this world."
"What did it show you?"
Liora met his eyes. "The truth. That the Unformed isn't my enemy. It's my reflection—the part of creation that never agreed to be shaped."
He frowned. "And the Beast?"
She looked toward the far end of the cavern, where a faint heartbeat echoed beneath the surface. "The Beast guards the path to it. It's not chaos—it's a reminder. The Circle of Shadows holds both halves: the maker and the made."
As she spoke, the mirrored ground began to split open, revealing a single column of black crystal rising from the depths. At its core burned a steady flame of violet light.
Liora approached it, extending her hand. "The heart of the Circle," she whispered.
The crystal trembled beneath her touch, and her reflection within it smiled back—not a mimicry this time, but something conscious, knowing.
"Do you accept your Shadow?" it asked.
She hesitated only a moment. "Yes."
The crystal shattered into smoke, and the violet flame shot into her chest. For a heartbeat, everything went white.
When the light faded, Liora stood taller. The golden glow that had surrounded her before was now edged with shadow, dark and soft, as though she carried dusk within her veins.
Corren took a step back. "You're changing."
She nodded. "Every Circle I bind brings me closer to what I was. Or what I'm supposed to become."
He studied her. "And what's that?"
She turned to face him, her eyes now faintly luminous in the darkness. "Balance."
A sound broke through the silence—the faintest whisper, echoing through the cavern.
"Four Circles bound. Three remain. The Unformed stirs in its dreaming shell."
The floor beneath them shifted. A staircase of light appeared, spiraling upward toward a hole in the cavern roof where dawn was breaking.
Liora exhaled slowly. "The next Circle lies beneath the sky. The Circle of Flame."
Corren's jaw tightened. "Flame, huh? Somehow I doubt that'll be easier than this one."
She smiled faintly. "Nothing worth saving ever is."
As they began to climb, the shadows below rippled once more. From the reflection on the mirrored ground, a figure watched them ascend—her reflection, but smiling in a way she hadn't.
It turned away from the light and sank back into the dark.
When they reached the surface, dawn burned across the dunes in streaks of red and gold. The desert wind carried warmth again—not comforting, but alive, hungry.
Liora stood at the crest of the hill, her cloak whipping in the wind.
"The Circle of Flame," she whispered, eyes narrowing. "The heart of rebirth."
Behind her, the first rays of sun hit the sand, and for an instant, the horizon blazed with impossible fire.
Corren shielded his eyes. "Is it just me, or is the sun closer than before?"
"It's not the sun," she said softly. "It's the Circle calling."
And as she spoke, the wind turned searing, the dunes flickering like coals, and somewhere beyond sight, something ancient laughed—a low, burning sound that seemed to come from the world's heart itself.
"Come, Shaper," it whispered through the heat. "Let's see if you can survive your own fire."