Later;
The corridor beyond narrowed again, its walls no longer wood or stone but polished black marble veined with silver.
The floor reflected Luna's image faintly, stretching and warping her silhouette with every step. The torches here burned low, their flames steady but colorless, casting long, pale shadows that did not always align with her movements.
She slowed.
Her reflection blinked.
Luna stopped completely.
The reflected version of herself did not.
It took one more step before pausing, head tilting slightly as though curious. Its eyes lifted to meet hers, and for a heartbeat, Luna saw not herself but a version sharpened by something colder, something more decisive.
"Enough," she muttered, lifting her staff.
The reflection smiled.
