Chapitre 28: Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Whispering Darkness
Elyra stood motionless in the vast void, her eyes scanning the empty expanse. The whispering voice grew louder, more insistent, sending chills down her spine. It was as though the darkness itself was alive, tugging at her mind, trying to break through her defenses.
"Who's there?" Elyra called out, gripping her sword tighter. Her voice echoed through the emptiness, swallowed up by the void. The ground beneath her feet felt unstable, shifting as if it could crumble at any moment.
For a moment, there was silence, then the whispers returned, this time forming words that she could almost understand. They were fragmented, like pieces of a broken puzzle, but the intent was clear: **Turn back. You are not ready.**
Elyra clenched her jaw. "I won't turn back. I've come too far."
The darkness rippled, and before her, a shadowy figure began to take shape. It was tall, cloaked in a flowing, tattered robe that seemed to absorb the light around it. The figure's face was obscured by a hood, but Elyra could feel its gaze piercing through her.
"You are brave," the figure said, its voice deep and resonant, like the echo of a distant storm. "But bravery alone will not save you. This place tests the soul, not the sword."
Elyra didn't lower her weapon. "Who are you? What do you want?"
The figure remained still, its presence almost suffocating. "I am the Keeper of Shadows," it intoned, "the guardian of the path you seek. To proceed, you must prove your worth. You must confront the darkness within."
Elyra swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew this would not be an ordinary battle. The prophecy had warned of trials that would test not just her strength, but her very spirit. But the stakes were too high for hesitation.
"What do I need to do?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
The Keeper's head tilted slightly, as if contemplating her question. "You must face your greatest fear, Elyra," it said slowly. "The fear that lies hidden deep within your heart. Only then will the path be revealed."
Elyra felt a cold sweat break out on her skin. What was her greatest fear? She had faced death many times, had battled monsters and armies. But as the darkness around her thickened, she realized it was not the fear of death that haunted her. It was something far more personal, far more painful.
The void began to shift again, the ground beneath her feet solidifying into a familiar landscape. Elyra blinked in surprise as the shadows receded, revealing the fortress—*her* fortress. It was exactly as she remembered it, from the towering walls to the banners fluttering in the wind. But something was wrong. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, and the sky above was a sickly shade of gray.
As she moved forward, her heart sank. The fortress was deserted. No soldiers patrolled the walls, no familiar faces greeted her. It was as if the entire place had been abandoned, left to rot in the creeping darkness.
Suddenly, she heard a sound—a soft, choking gasp. Elyra's blood ran cold as she recognized the voice. She broke into a run, her boots pounding against the stone floors as she followed the sound down the corridors she knew so well.
She burst into the great hall, and there she saw them—*Garret, Thorne, Lyra, and Eamon*. They were lying on the ground, motionless, their bodies cold and lifeless. Elyra's heart twisted in her chest as she rushed to Garret's side, shaking him frantically.
"No, no, no!" she cried, her voice breaking. "This isn't real! You can't be—"
But as she touched him, his body crumbled into dust, disintegrating before her eyes. Elyra stumbled back, horror gripping her. She turned to the others, but it was the same—one by one, they all turned to ash, their faces frozen in expressions of pain and betrayal.
"You failed them," a voice hissed from the shadows. "You led them to their deaths."
Elyra spun around, and there, standing in the doorway, was *herself*. But this version of Elyra was twisted, her eyes hollow and filled with a deep, consuming darkness. Her armor was tarnished, and her sword dripped with blood.
"Look at what you've done," the dark Elyra whispered, stepping forward. "You couldn't save them. You couldn't protect them. You're nothing but a failure, a coward hiding behind a mask of strength."
Elyra backed away, shaking her head in denial. "No… this isn't real. This is a trick!"
The dark figure laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Oh, it's very real, Elyra. This is your true fear, isn't it? Not the battle, not the enemy—but the fear of losing those you love. The fear that, in the end, you are powerless."
Tears welled in Elyra's eyes as she tried to fight the overwhelming tide of despair. The image of her friends, her brother, all lying dead because of her failures, was more than she could bear.
The dark Elyra continued to advance, her voice softening but remaining cutting. "You think you can save the kingdom, but you can't even save yourself. You will lead them all to their doom."
Elyra's knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, her sword slipping from her grasp. The weight of her guilt, her fear, pressed down on her like a crushing wave. She felt herself drowning in it, the darkness closing in, swallowing her whole.
But then, from deep within, she heard another voice—a faint, but steady whisper. It was her own, but different, filled with a quiet strength that she had forgotten. *"Remember why you fight, Elyra. Remember who you are."*
She closed her eyes, clinging to that voice, forcing herself to breathe, to focus. This was her trial, her test. The darkness wasn't real—it was a manifestation of her deepest fears, her self-doubt. And it could only destroy her if she let it.
Elyra's hands curled into fists as she pushed herself up from the ground, her legs trembling but resolute. She opened her eyes, meeting the gaze of her dark reflection.
"You're right," Elyra said, her voice firm. "I am afraid. I'm terrified of losing the people I care about. But that fear is what drives me to fight, to protect them. I won't let it control me."
The dark Elyra sneered. "Brave words, but words won't save them."
"No," Elyra agreed, a fierce determination blazing in her eyes. "But my actions will."
With that, she reached out, and her sword flew back into her hand, its blade glowing with a bright, unwavering light. The dark figure recoiled, hissing as the light grew brighter, dispelling the shadows around them.
Elyra stepped forward, and the fortress began to fade, the illusion crumbling away as the truth of her resolve shattered the dark spell. The dark Elyra screamed, her form dissolving into black smoke, which the light quickly consumed.
The void was gone, replaced by the solid ground of the chamber, the familiar carvings on the walls now glowing with a soft, welcoming light. The Shard of the Path still rested on the pedestal, its glow steady and strong.
Elyra stood there, breathing heavily, but with a newfound sense of clarity. She had faced her darkest fear and emerged stronger. This trial had tested her spirit, but it had also reminded her of why she fought—not just out of duty, but out of love, for those she held dear.
As she reached out and took the Shard into her hand, its light infused her with warmth, and she felt the path ahead clear. The darkness had tested her, but she had not been found wanting.
The chamber door opened, revealing Lyra, Garret, Thorne, and Eamon, their faces etched with concern. They rushed to her side, relief washing over them.
"Elyra!" Lyra exclaimed, "Are you alright?"
Elyra nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. "I'm fine. We're ready to move forward."
Together, they left the chamber, the Shard guiding their way through the labyrinth of tunnels, leading them ever closer to the heart of the temple, where the final battle awaited.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone