Vencian's knees pressed against the shifting ground. His breath came fast. Before him stood the two figures—the one he wished he wasn't and the one he never wanted to meet.

Both stared down at him.

The fog turned, thickening into movement. The burning corridors fell away. Cold air rushed in.

When the world settled again, the battlefield was gone. The Laauar plains stretched beneath a gray sky, frost biting the air. The same place where he had killed a man for the first time.

He looked down at his hands. They still looked clean. I killed someone here. The thought crawled up through his throat. I did it myself. If I were still that Luke, I wouldn't have been able to. He closed his eyes. That's why I changed. But for what? Every path brings me back here—to the same person I've been trying to erase.

When he opened his eyes, the two figures towered over him. He wasn't sure if they had grown or if he had sunk lower, but they looked immense. Luke's dull eyes met his first.

"You were never loved, and you never will be," Luke said. "A new world, a higher rank—it won't change what you are underneath. A loser."

The words landed flat and hard. Vencian clenched his jaw.

The other version of him—the real Vencian—spoke next. "You don't deserve my family. You don't deserve what was mine. Give it back."

Luke gave a short laugh. "Saying it over and over won't make it true."

"Even your memories aren't yours," the other said. "You took them from me. You hold on to them like they're all you've got left."

Luke tilted his head. "You erased who I could've been."

"You stole everything from me," the other spat.

Luke's eyes flicked toward Vencian. "And you really think this world will treat you better than the last one did?"

The other Vencian took a step closer. "You're just rotting slower than I am."

Vencian lowered his gaze. The snow cracked under his knees. They're both right.

Luke spoke again. "Everything you try to protect falls apart right in front of you."

The other Vencian followed. "Even your victories reek of guilt."

Their voices echoed in turns, overlapping until he couldn't tell who spoke first. The plains darkened at the edges, the frost turning black like ink spreading outward.

Luke's tone shifted, softer. Almost kind. "Stop before you make it worse again," he said.

"Let's go back to what we were. Failures. Empty. But at least it was easier than this—easier than what's coming for you. Let's just be us again. The way we were meant to be."

The real Vencian's hand moved. A blade appeared, its edge dull and dark. He threw it at Vencian's feet. "You have two choices," he said. "Give back what you stole—or end it."

Vencian stared at the sword. His throat tightened. The cold dug through his skin. He couldn't tell if the air was freezing or if it was guilt crawling from the inside out.

Vencian's hand moved before he thought. His fingers wrapped around the sword's hilt. The metal was cold, heavier than it looked. He used it to push himself up, his knees shaking. His head stayed low.

"Kill myself…" His voice dropped, rough and flat. The chill in it felt colder than the plains around them.

He raised the sword. The sound of the sheath hitting the ground cut through the still air. One motion followed—the blade cut across Luke's neck. The head fell without resistance.

"There," Vencian said. "I did it."

The other Vencian stood silent. His face showed no surprise. "So you want to do it your way, eh."

Vencian met his gaze. "If repeating a lie doesn't make it true, then I'll say it until it is."

The other drew his own weapon. The fog thickened, closing around them. They circled each other at the edge of the Laauar plains, where the snow met the deep drop below.

Their blades clashed. Sparks scattered. The sound rang out against the empty air.

Vencian swung again, forcing distance between them. "You asked why I'm still wearing this face," he said. His breath came short. "Even though I know I don't deserve it?"

The other's grip tightened. "Why?"

"Because I want it." Vencian's sword cut through the mist. The edge met resistance, then air. "A life worth living for. That's why."

The other Vencian advanced, faster this time. Each strike came close. The ground cracked under their feet. Vencian blocked one, two, then ducked the third.

"I'm almost starting to feel good living here," Vencian said between blows. "So shut up and leave me alone. To hell with what I deserve or not."

I don't care what I was or become anymore.

The fight turned fierce. Their swords met in quick bursts, the sound sharp and metallic. Vencian ducked under a horizontal swing and drove his shoulder into the other's chest, forcing him back a step. The next clash sent shock through his arm.

He parried high, twisted, and tried to sweep the legs, but the other jumped clear and countered with a downward strike that scraped his sleeve.

Snow kicked up around them. The air burned in his lungs. He lunged again, forcing the other backward until both stood near the edge. The other's blade came down in a diagonal cut.

Vencian caught it mid-swing, their faces inches apart. The strain in his wrists sent pain through his forearms.

They broke apart. Vencian rolled aside from another thrust, grabbed a fistful of frozen soil, and flung it up. The momentary distraction gave him a narrow opening, and he slashed across the other's side.

Blood streaked the snow, steaming in the cold air. The other roared, drove a knee into his gut, and slammed him down.

The plain's edge came into view again. The wind carried faint echoes of the battle years ago—the same cold, the same stillness after death.

Vencian slipped. His back hit the ground near the cliff. The other pressed a boot against his chest, sword raised.

"You can't kill me," the other said. "You're the same as me."

Vencian's lip twitched into a smirk. "Maybe I can't," he said. "But I know what can."

Before the other could move, a blade drove through his abdomen from behind. His eyes widened. Blood soaked his tunic as he turned his head.

The one holding the sword wore Lucian's face. Calm. Certain.

He kicked the dying figure from the edge. The body fell into the fog below.

The world around Vencian started to shift again. The plains blurred. The cold gave way to gray. The illusion broke apart, leaving only the faint echo of steel and his own pulse in his ears.

— — —

When the vision broke, the world snapped back in silence. Vencian was still there, the cold floor beneath him, his hand gripping Roselys'.

Reine lay nearby. Her breathing was slow and even. She looked asleep.

Roselys was upright but motionless. Her eyes were open, her body stiff as if frozen mid-thought. The faint tremor in her arm was the only sign she was still alive.

Vencian's throat tightened. She's trapped. Same as I was. He tightened his grip and pulled.

Her body didn't move. He tried again, harder, careful to keep her wrist from twisting. The lock held her fast. He braced his feet against the ground and pulled with all his strength.

There was a jolt. Her body lurched forward. The release came so sudden that she fell against him. The impact knocked them both off balance. They hit the floor together, her weight against his chest.

Vencian caught her before her head struck the ground. The air left his lungs with the fall, but he stayed still. Roselys' hand was cold in his grasp.

Her eyes fluttered open. For a second they looked empty. Then the tears came, silent and constant. She wasn't sobbing, only breathing unevenly as the wet streaks kept running down her face.

Vencian sat up and shook her shoulder. "Roselys. Can you hear me?"

She didn't respond. He shook her again, gentler this time. "Roselys."

Her eyes moved toward him at last. Focus returned slowly, like someone waking from a long sleep.

He helped her sit up. "What happened?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"

She blinked once, twice, then looked away. Her hand rose quickly to wipe her face. She slipped free from his hold and pushed herself upright.

Her breath steadied. "I'm fine," she said, voice quiet and raw.

Vencian watched her for a moment. He didn't believe it, but pressed no further. "You're sure?"

Roselys nodded faintly. "Yes. No harm."

He let out a breath and turned his head. Reine stirred then, a soft sound leaving her as she shifted on the ground.

Vencian glanced between them, the room still heavy with what had happened. Reine's eyes opened, hazy but calm.

None of them spoke. The silence stretched thin.

Then the temple shook.

The floor lurched beneath them. Dust rained from the ceiling. A deep, grinding roar echoed through the walls—something massive had struck the structure from outside. The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing across the stone.

Vencian's hand went to his sword. "What was that?"

The shaking didn't stop.

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