Chapter 30: Trial of Shadows (Part 1)

  The transition is instantaneous and violently disorienting.

  One moment I’m stepping through the archway, and the next, the world simply changes. Not gradually, not with warning, just a sudden, nauseating shift that makes my stomach lurch and my vision swim.

  I stumble, nearly falling, my claws scraping against stone that feels different from what we'd been walking on. The air tastes wrong, cleaner somehow, without the marsh's perpetual rot. And the light…

  Ohh, this is too bright.

  I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision. I’m no longer in the ruins' entrance but standing in what appears to be an enormous hall. The architecture is pristine, unmarred by time or water damage. Marble floors stretch in all directions, polished to a mirror shine that reflects everything with this uncomfortable clarity.

  I search for the others, but there is no one in sight. Were they transported elsewhere? We went through the arc almost simultaneously.

  And where is the portal? It is as if I was just teleported here from nowhere

  All around the hall there are lampposts with crystalline lanterns hanging, their light shifting through colors I don't have names for. The effect is beautiful and deeply unsettling, like watching reality itself flicker.

  But then I notice the sun.

  Through massive windows that shouldn't exist, I can see a pale sun hanging in a sky of impossible blue. And outside, the city spreads before me. Not in the ruins that I’ve seen before, but a thriving metropolis of impossible architecture.

  Those same sunk towers now rise in geometric patterns that hurt to look at directly. Bridges span distances that would make Earth's greatest engineers weep. And everywhere, movement. Figures too distant to identify clearly, but definitely present, going about their business in a city that shouldn't exist.

  "An illusion," I whisper. "This has to be an illusion."

  But even as I say it, I know it's more than that. This isn't simple trickery. This is something far more profound, perhaps a memory, preserved in magic and stone.

  A memory of the city before it sank.

  A noise echoes through the hall, impossibly loud in the unnatural silence. And with it, something else changes. The pale sun outside begins to set behind the main building with impossible speed.

  Darkness rushes in like a living thing.

  The crystalline lanterns flicker once, twice, then die.

  And I’m plunged into absolute blackness.

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  In the instant between light and dark, I see my own reflection in the polished floor. My scales, my claws, my face staring back at me with wide eyes.

  Then the darkness hits, and everything fractures.

  Panic claws at my throat, as all around me amorphous shadowy creatures manifest from thin air, like silhouettes made of violence and threat.

  These shadows begin to move with increasing agitation. I try to say something but there is no sound coming out. In fact, even my movements don't seem to produce any noise.

  In an instant, one of the shadows lunges at another. A third scrambles away. And then, violence suddenly erupts.

  One these shadowy creatures charges directly at me.

  Instinct takes over. I dodge to the side, my claws coming up defensively. The shadow's attack whistles past where my head had been, and I counter-strike on pure reflex, raking across what I hope is armor and not flesh.

  The shadow recoils, and I can't tell if I hurt it or barely scratched it. No blood appears. No wound shows. Just darkness moving, retreating, then coming at me again.

  Then it happens.

  My attacker produces two blades, curved daggers that catch no light because there is no light to catch. They're just darker silhouettes in the shadow's hands.

  With its twin daggers, the shadow moves with trained precision, intent on killing me.

  That's all I need to know for now.

  All around me, the hall has become a battleground in the dark. Shadows clash with shadows and still there is no sound to be heard.

  I dodge another strike, even my fighter reflexes screaming warnings I can barely process. The shadow's blades pass so close I feel the air displacement, and I counter with a desperate slash that connects with something solid.

  The shadow staggers but doesn't fall.

  In this shadowed nightmare, we circle each other, my opponent just a moving void.

  The shadow then darts forward with shocking speed, both blades seeking my throat in a coordinated strike that would have killed me if I hadn't thrown myself backward.

  I manage to hit the ground hard, rolling, coming up just in time to see the shadow pressing its advantage.

  One dagger scores across my shoulder, parting scales and drawing blood. The cut burns, not from heat but from something else. Toxin. The blade is poisoned.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Just what I need, a shadowy monster that also uses poison.

  Fortunately, my enhanced resistance kicks in almost immediately. The burning fades to a manageable ache, and I can feel my body already working to neutralize whatever venom coated that blade.

  Small mercies in this world of darkness.

  I counter-attack, using my claws to catch it once more across what should be its face. But there's no blood, no wound, no way to know if I'm actually hurting it or just scratching at nothing.

  The fight becomes a desperate dance. The shadow is faster, more skilled, but my regeneration and toxin resistance keeps me in the game. Every cut it lands starts healing within moments and every toxin it introduces gets neutralized before it can take hold.

  But I'm being worn down. The psychological toll of fighting a menacing figure that doesn't even bleed is crushing.

  I need to end this fast.

  Backing away from my attacker, I barely stumble over something on the floor. Looking down, I see one of those crystalline lanterns, fallen from its mount during the chaos. It's dark now, cold, dead.

  But it gives me an idea.

  As the shadow comes at me again, I grab the lantern and swing it like a flail. The crystal connects with the shadow's head, and the impact sends vibrations up my arm. Solid. Real. I hit something.

  The shadow reels back, and in that moment of reprieve, the previous dead crystal now flows with new light.

  Faint, ghostly, barely there, but unmistakable. The crystalline lantern is glowing again, its pale light pushing back just a few feet of the darkness.

  And the moment I bask in the light's radius, everything changes.

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  I can still see myself, but now in the marble floor's reflection. A shadow. My shadow. Cast by the pale light, distorted but undeniably mine.

  And in that shadow, I see my true form. Not darkness, but details. Scales, claws, the specific pattern of my features. The light is revealing me in what should have been my shadow.

  I can feel movement coming from behind me, and I spin to see my attacker also in the light's edge.

  The figure solidifies in the light's glow, not a monster made of shadows, but the Gnoll Stalker. His twin daggers are still raised, and three parallel claw marks run down the left side of his face, dripping something onto his leather armor.

  We freeze, staring at each other. His eyes meet mine with the same staggering recognition I feel. We were trying to kill each other and we nearly succeeded.

  For a long moment, neither of us moves. The hostility is still there, crackling between us like static, but understanding as well. We weren't fighting monsters. We were fighting each other, turned into shadows and set against ourselves.

  He lowers his daggers slowly, never taking his eyes off me. I lower my claws in return, though every instinct screams not to trust him. The wound on my shoulder throbs with poison from his blade and likely so the cuts on his face.

  No words pass between us. Even if it was possible, we don't share a language and what would we say? Sorry for trying to murder you in the dark?

  Instead, he jerks his head toward the chaos beyond our small circle of light. More shadows fighting. More of the group, lost in the darkness, killing each other.

  We don't have time for careful planning.

  Together, we run, taking the glowing crystal toward where we can see the most intense fighting. The light moves with us, creating a bubble of visibility in the shadow-reflections.

  As we approach, shadows scatter like roaches from illumination. Some flee entirely, disappearing into the depths of the hall. Others hover at the edge, uncertain.

  I run while shaking the lit crystal, displaying it for all to see and to come into the light.

  Firstly, a small shadow rushes toward us, and for a moment I tense, ready to drop the lantern and fight. But as it enters the light's radius, I see its reflection clearly. One of the Bog Goblins, terrified and bleeding from multiple wounds.

  Another creature then huddles near us, and slowly, others begin to approach. A dashing shadow resolves into Kor'ik, the Frogman's webbed hands trembling as he sees his own reflection in the light.

  "Kor'ik!" I call out, though I'm sure he can't hear me in this muted nightmare.

  The Frogman's bulbous eyes are wide with terror, his whole body shaking. His reflection shows no visible wounds, but his hands won't stop trembling as he touches his own face, his chest, checking himself over and over as if unable to believe he is himself again.

  More shadows gather. The Silent Frogman, his shackles somehow still intact even in this nightmare. Two Gnoll warriors, something is dripping from their reflected weapons and I don′t want to think whose blood is this.

  But there are still many missing, including Gorvash and Hynnal. And the fight rages on in the darkness beyond our little island of light.

  We need more light sources. I point to other dormant crystals signaling others to also grab one.

  One by one, we start gathering the fallen lanterns. With each new light source we activate, our safe zone grows.

  And with each expansion, we find more survivors.

  A Gnoll hunter, bleeding from wounds across his chest. Another Warrior, this one clutching an arm that bends at an unnatural angle. And finally, Hynnal himself, the scarred leader emerging from the darkness like a nightmare given form.

  Even in shadow, his presence is commanding. His reflected saber is a scene of gore. He pauses to survey the gathered survivors and I can see him counting, assessing losses.

  Then he signals orders in some sort of gestural communication, and suddenly the Gnolls are moving with purpose. They drag other survivors into the light, some willing, others fighting every step.

  The last one we get is Gorvash. Through the swirling darkness, I can see his robust shadow still engaged with another, their forms locked in savage combat. His claws rake again and again at his opponent, and even in silhouette, I can see the brutal strength of his movements.

  "Gorvash!" I shout, waving the crystal lantern frantically but of course no sound comes out.

  I run closer, pushing to the very edge of our light's radius, and thrust the lantern toward the fighting shadows. The glow catches his reflection in the marble floor, revealing his scaled form, the distinctive ridge along his spine.

  And his opponent's reflection, another Gnoll warrior, one of Hynnal's veterans.

  "LOOK!" I try to scream, pointing desperately at the floor, at the reflections. "LOOK AT YOUR SHADOW!"

  My strange actions or perhaps the sudden splash of light, breaks through his fury. Gorvash's head snaps down toward the floor, toward his own reflection and he goes utterly still.

  The Gnoll warrior, similarly illuminated, freezes as well. They're both breathing hard, weapons and claws raised, standing over each other in a deadly embrace that is moments away from ending in death.

  Slowly, painfully, they separate. Gorvash backs toward me, his movements jerky and uncertain. His toughened scales managed to guard him from any serious injury, with just some smaller wounds across his arms and chest, but his eyes hold a feral quality I've never seen before.

  Finally, the growing illumination reveals the true horror of what's happened.

  Bodies. Not many, but enough, another one of the Bog Goblins and two of the Gnolls. There is even a completely bisected one, most likely an unfortunate victim of Hynnal.

  Shadows that don't move anymore, lying in pools of something dark that I know is blood even though I can't see its color properly.

  This is the trial. Not a test of strength or courage, but something far more insidious. A test of what we become when fear and darkness strip away everything but instinct.

  And we've failed spectacularly.