9

  Shadow Duel

  The crowd buzzed with anticipation, the air thick with excitement as the coliseum seemed to come alive under the dual suns. The red stone seats of the arena hummed faintly with the murmurs of thousands of spectators, each one leaning forward, eager for the first trial to begin. Alyc’s hands gripped the edge of her seat, her knuckles white against the sun-warmed stone. Beside her, Durk sat steady and calm, his sharp eyes scanning the arena below.

  In the center of the coliseum, the Seer stood alone, her silver eyes shimmering with an otherworldly light. She raised a single hand, and the noise of the crowd stilled instantly, silence washing over the arena like a wave. Her presence was commanding, her voice soft yet resonant as it carried effortlessly to every corner of the coliseum. “The first trial,” she began, her tone measured, “is The Shadow Duel.” A ripple of excitement spread through the crowd, and Alyc felt her heart race at the name. “This trial,” the Seer continued, “is not one of brute force. Your adversary will mirror your every move, anticipate your every thought. Their strength shall be your strength, their skill your skill. Victory lies not in overwhelming power, but in the depths of your soul. It is the subtle, the unexpected, and the unconventional that will lead you to triumph.” Alyc glanced at Durk, who nodded slightly, his gaze unwavering. “This will show what they’re made of,” he muttered under his breath. The Seer lowered her hand, her glowing eyes turning toward the Divine Council seated on their elevated platform. “Felrum, Stoneheart,” she called. The massive figure of Stoneheart stood, his presence a mountain of quiet strength. With a deliberate motion, he raised his hands, and the arena floor began to tremble. The sand shifted and rippled like water before smoothing into a polished stone surface. The air was heavy with expectation as the Seer’s gaze moved once more, this time to a figure cloaked in swirling black mist. “Nox” she said. The Shadow Keeper stepped forward, his movements fluid and silent. Shadows swirled around him, coiling like living things as he reached out with his hands. The air grew colder, and a dark, smoky haze began to gather in the center of the arena. The crowd held their breath as the shadows took shape, forming indistinct figures that flickered and shifted like reflections in rippling water.

  The Seer turned her attention to the competitors, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Bregund Forwart of Emberfall,” she announced.

  Alyc’s heart leapt as Bregund, the wiry and quick-footed competitor, stepped forward. His sharp features were set in a mask of determination, though she could see the tension in his shoulders as he made his way to the center of the arena. The other competitors stepped back, descending from the platform to stand at the edge of the arena floor. “Good luck, Bregund!” Durk’s voice rang out, clear and strong. The words were simple, but they carried the weight of years of training, of trust. Alyc saw Bregund’s head lift slightly at the encouragement, his posture straightening as he took his place. The Seer nodded toward him, her expression unreadable. “Your trial begins,” she said softly. The other competitors descended from the platform, their expressions a mix of relief and tension as they joined the rest of the group at the arena’s edge. All eyes remained on Bregund, now standing alone on the polished stone stage. Alyc felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest, her breath shallow as she watched him square his shoulders and adjust his grip on his sword. Nox stepped forward, his hands weaving through the air in a series of fluid motions. The shadows around him surged forward, condensing into a swirling mass before Bregund. Alyc watched in awe as the haze coalesced, its form sharpening into a perfect replica of the young Emberfall competitor. The shadow stood before him, identical in every way, down to the determined glint in its eyes and the tight grip it held on its sword. The shadow before Bregund stood perfectly still, its dark, smoke-like form an uncanny mirror of his every movement. It exuded an aura of silent menace, its obsidian blade glinting faintly in the sunlight. Bregund’s stance tightened, his gaze locking onto the shadow’s eyes his own eyes, reflected back at him with an eerie, unreadable intensity.

  For a moment, there was nothing but silence. The air was thick with tension, and even the crowd seemed to hold its breath. Then, as if spurred by an unspoken signal, Bregund lunged forward, his sword arcing through the air in a calculated strike. The shadow moved in perfect synchronicity, its blade meeting his with a deafening clang. Sparks erupted from the clash, and the sound echoed across the silent coliseum. The force of the impact sent vibrations up Bregund’s arm, but the shadow didn’t flinch. Instead, it pressed forward, driving Bregund back a step. Alyc’s heart pounded as she gripped the edge of her seat. “He’s fighting himself,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. Beside her, Durk nodded, his expression serious. “And that’s the hardest fight there is.”

  The duel continued with relentless intensity. Bregund attacked with a series of swift, calculated strikes, each one aimed to test the shadow’s defenses. But no matter how fast or clever his movements, the shadow matched him, its blade moving with identical precision. It was as if the shadow could read his mind, predicting every move before he made it.

  Frustration began to creep into Bregund’s movements. His strikes became heavier, his footwork less fluid as exhaustion started to take its toll. The shadow mirrored his faltering rhythm, its unyielding presence a constant reminder of his limits. “I can’t... keep this up,” Bregund muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the clashing of blades. Sweat dripped down his brow, and his breaths came in short, ragged gasps.

  The crowd watched in tense silence, their collective focus on the grueling match unfolding before them. Alyc clenched her fists, willing Bregund to find a way through. Then, something shifted. Bregund’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of determination sparking amidst the fatigue. He took a step back, his stance loosening as if he were about to retreat. His heel caught on the smooth stone, and he stumbled slightly, his sword dipping lower. The shadow mimicked his stumble perfectly, its balance faltering for the briefest moment. It was all Bregund needed.

  Recovering with lightning speed, Bregund lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air in a decisive strike. The shadow raised its sword to block, but it was a split second too slow. Bregund’s blade connected with its chest, and the shadow froze, its form flickering and shuddering as if caught in a violent wind. With a sound like rushing air, the shadow exploded into a wisp of smoke, the dark tendrils dissipating into the sky. For a moment, there was silence. Then, the crowd erupted into cheers, their voices rising in a deafening wave that shook the arena. Bregund stood in the center of the stage, his chest heaving as he lowered his sword. Relief and exhaustion mingled on his face, but there was a spark in his eyes as he turned to face the Seer.

  The Seer stepped forward, her silver eyes gleaming. “Bregund Forwart of Emberfall,” she announced, her voice carrying effortlessly over the noise of the crowd. “You have completed your trial in forty-five minutes.” The cheers grew louder, and Bregund gave a small nod, his expression weary but victorious. He descended from the platform, his steps slow but steady. As he reached the edge of the arena, his fellow Emberfall supporters greeted him with applause and words of encouragement. “Not bad for his first trial,” Durk murmured with a hint of jest. Alyc nodded, her heart swelling with admiration. “He showed what Emberfall is made of.”

  The crowd quieted as the Seer raised her hand once more. Alyc’s gaze shifted back to the arena, her anticipation growing as the next challenger was called. The crowd quieted as The Seer stepped forward, her silver eyes glimmering as she raised her hand, commanding silence from the roaring crowd. With a voice both soothing and powerful, she spoke, “Morrow Coswo of Selenia, step forward.”

  Alyc leaned forward, her heart racing with anticipation. She had heard tales of Selenia’s warriors, but now she would see one in action. Morrow Coswo moved with a calm assurance, his wiry frame belied by the quiet intensity in his steady gray eyes. His every step was measured as he ascended the platform, exuding a composed confidence that spoke of strategy rather than brute force. Beside Alyc, Durk folded his arms and watched intently. “He’s sharp,” he muttered. “Watch his precision this is a warrior who uses his mind as much as his blade.”

  Morrow reached the center of the platform and took his stance, his slight frame almost swallowed by the vastness of the arena. The air seemed to grow heavier as Nox stepped forward once more, his dark cloak swirling as he raised his hands. Shadows coalesced into a swirling mass before Morrow, their movements fluid and hypnotic. Alyc held her breath as the shadows condensed, forming a perfect mirror of the Selenian warrior.

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  The shadow stood still for a moment, its form eerily matching Morrow’s lean silhouette. Its sharp gray eyes mirrored his focused gaze, and its stance was identical, poised and ready.

  The Seer’s voice rang out. “Your trial begins.”

  Morrow didn’t rush. He advanced with calculated steps, his sword drawn but held at a defensive angle. The shadow moved instantly, matching his every step and stance. Alyc watched as the duel began, her eyes glued to the fluid, deliberate movements of the Selenian warrior. Morrow’s strikes were precise, his sword darting forward with speed and accuracy. The shadow countered flawlessly, its blade meeting his with a metallic clash that echoed across the coliseum. Alyc’s fingers tightened on the edge of her seat as the battle unfolded, each strike and counter a display of precision and control.

  “He’s studying it,” Durk observed quietly, his eyes narrowing. “Every movement, every reaction he’s learning its rhythm.” The crowd watched in hushed anticipation as Morrow continued his duel, each exchange a careful dance of steel. His movements were methodical, his breathing steady even as the heat of the arena bore down on him. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, but his focus never wavered. “He’s patient,” Durk said. “He knows this isn’t about brute strength it’s about finding the flaw.” Alyc nodded, her admiration growing as she observed Morrow’s calm, strategic approach. Unlike other competitors who relied on raw power, he relied on his ability to outthink and outmaneuver his opponent. The shadow, relentless in its mirroring, showed no signs of fatigue. Its perfection was its strength but also its vulnerability. As the duel stretched on, Morrow began incorporating subtle feints, testing its responses. Alyc leaned forward, her heart pounding as she realized what he was doing.

  “He’s found it,” she whispered. “There’s a delay a tiny hesitation.” Morrow adjusted his stance, his sword shifting slightly in his grip. He circled his shadow, his movements slow and deliberate. With a sudden burst of speed, he feinted left, drawing the shadow’s blade to block. Then, in a fluid motion, he pivoted, his real strike cutting low and to the right. The shadow faltered, its blade moving to counter too late. Morrow’s strike sliced through its core, and the shadow froze, its form flickering and shuddering before it dissolved into a wisp of smoke.

  The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, their cheers echoing across the coliseum. Morrow straightened, his breathing heavy but controlled, and lowered his sword with the same calm precision he had shown throughout the trial. The Seer stepped forward, her voice carrying effortlessly over the noise. “Morrow Coswo of Selenia, you have completed your trial in thirty-two minutes.”

  The cheers grew louder, and Alyc found herself clapping along, her admiration for the Selenian warrior growing with each passing moment. Morrow descended from the platform with quiet grace, rejoining his teammates who greeted him with nods of respect. “He’s remarkable,” Alyc said, turning to her father. Durk nodded, a hint of approval in his voice. “That’s what precision and strategy look like. He didn’t waste a single movement.”

  Alyc’s gaze followed Morrow as he stood among the other competitors, his calm resolve a stark contrast to the intensity of the battle he had just fought. Despite the heat and the relentless mirroring of his shadow, Morrow had emerged victorious, proving why he had been chosen to represent Selenia. As the cheers subsided, Alyc’s gaze returned to the arena. Two competitors had faced their shadows, but the day’s challenges were far from over.

  “Bex Trylon of Selenia,” the Seer declared. Alyc leaned forward, her eyes widening as the veteran warrior stepped onto the platform. Bex’s silver hair gleamed under the sunlight, a stark contrast to the determined set of her weathered features. She carried herself with a calm confidence that spoke of years of experience, her movements deliberate as she took her place.

  The Shadow Keeper moved again, his dark form weaving shadows into existence. Before long, a perfect replica of Bex stood before her, its blade raised in challenge. Bex wasted no time. As soon as the Seer gave the signal, she advanced with measured strikes, her blade moving with precision. Her shadow met each attack with equal skill, their blades clashing in a flurry of sparks. Unlike Bregund, Bex’s movements were steady, almost methodical. She wasn’t rushing; she was analyzing, watching for patterns and weaknesses. The heat of the arena and the intensity of the duel tested her endurance. Beads of sweat formed on her brow, but she didn’t falter. Her years of battle experience showed in the way she adjusted her approach, shifting tactics as the fight wore on. Finally, Bex feinted to the right, drawing her shadow off balance. The copy moved to counter, but Bex pivoted smoothly, her blade arcing upward in a powerful strike. The shadow froze, flickered, and then shattered into smoke, dissipating into the air.

  The crowd roared with approval as Bex lowered her sword, her calm resolve unshaken. The Seer stepped forward. “Bex Trylon of Selenia,” she announced. “You have completed your trial in thirty-eight minutes.”

  Alyc couldn’t help but feel a mix of admiration and awe as Bex left the platform. The veteran had proven why she was chosen, her skill and composure unmatched. As the cheers subsided, Alyc’s gaze returned to the arena. Two competitors had faced their shadows, but the day’s challenges were far from over. The Seer stepped forward, her silver eyes glimmering as she raised her hand, commanding silence from the roaring crowd. With a voice both soothing and powerful, she spoke, “Bex Trylon of Selenia, step forward.” Alyc leaned forward, her heart racing with anticipation. She had heard tales of Selenia’s warriors, but now she would see one in action. Bex Trylon moved with a calm assurance, her silver hair catching the sunlight as she ascended the platform. She exuded an aura of quiet strength, her posture unshaken by the weight of hundreds of eyes fixed upon her. Beside Alyc, Durk folded his arms and watched intently. “She’s seasoned,” he muttered. “Every step is deliberate. Watch and learn.”

  Bex reached the center of the platform and took her stance, her weathered face calm but focused. The air seemed to grow heavier as Nox stepped forward once more, his dark cloak swirling as he raised his hands. Shadows coalesced into a swirling mass before Bex, their movements fluid and hypnotic. Alyc held her breath as the shadows condensed, forming a perfect mirror of the Selenian warrior. The shadow stood still for a moment, its silver hair shimmering like its origin’s. It matched Bex’s stance precisely, the two figures a striking reflection of one another.

  The Seer’s voice rang out. “Your trial begins.” Bex didn’t hesitate. She advanced with steady, measured steps, her sword arcing toward the shadow in a calculated strike. The shadow moved instantly, its blade meeting hers with a resounding clang that echoed across the coliseum.

  Alyc gripped the edge of her seat as the duel unfolded. Bex’s movements were not rushed or aggressive; instead, each strike and counter was precise, almost surgical. It was clear that every move she made was deliberate, a result of years of training and battle experience. “She’s testing it,” Durk said quietly, his eyes narrowed. “She’s feeling out the patterns.” The crowd watched in hushed anticipation as Bex continued to exchange blows with her shadow. Each attack was met with an equal counter, their blades dancing in a flurry of sparks. The heat of the arena intensified, the sun beating down mercilessly on the platform. Alyc could see beads of sweat forming on Bex’s brow, but the warrior’s expression remained calm, her breathing controlled.

  The shadow, however, showed no signs of fatigue. Its relentless mirroring was a cruel reminder of the trial’s difficulty. As the duel wore on, the heat and intensity began to take their toll on Bex. Her strikes slowed slightly, her movements becoming heavier. “She’s pacing herself,” Durk said. “She knows endurance is key.” Bex adjusted her stance, her sword shifting subtly in her grip. She began incorporating feints and misdirections, testing the shadow’s reactions. It mirrored her perfectly, but there was a slight hesitation, a fraction of a second where its movements lagged behind hers.

  Alyc leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the battle. “She’s found a weakness,” she whispered. Bex circled her shadow, her movements deliberate as she prepared her next move. With a sudden burst of energy, she lunged forward, her sword feinting to the left. The shadow moved to block, its blade rising to meet hers only for Bex to pivot smoothly, her true strike aimed low and to the right. The shadow hesitated, its blade faltering as it tried to adjust. Bex’s sword struck true, slicing through the shadow’s core. The shadow froze, its form flickering and shuddering before it exploded into a wisp of smoke that dissipated into the air.

  The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices a thunderous wave of admiration and respect. Bex lowered her sword and straightened, her breathing heavy but controlled. Her calm demeanor never wavered, even in victory. The Seer stepped forward, her voice carrying effortlessly over the noise. “Bex Trylon of Selenia, you have completed your trial in thirty-eight minutes.”

  The cheers grew louder, and Alyc found herself clapping along, her admiration for the veteran warrior growing with each passing moment. Bex descended from the platform with the same composed grace she had shown throughout the trial. As she rejoined the competitors, her teammates offered her quiet nods of respect. “She’s remarkable,” Alyc said, turning to her father. Durk nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. “That’s what experience looks like. She didn’t waste a single movement.” Alyc’s gaze followed Bex as she stood among the other competitors, her calm resolve a stark contrast to the intensity of the battle she had just fought. Despite the heat and the relentless mirroring of her shadow, Bex had emerged victorious, proving why she had been chosen to represent Selenia.

  As the cheers subsided, Alyc’s focus shifted back to the arena. The first two duels had been a testament to the competitors’ skill and determination, but the day’s challenges were far from over. With each passing moment, the stakes grew higher, and the weight of the trials pressed down on everyone watching. As the crowd settled after Bex Trylon’s performance, the Seer stepped forward once more, her presen