Date: February 12, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Consciousness returned to Elwin slowly, as if he were surfacing from a thick, sticky jelly. The first thing he felt was a sound—a thin, barely perceptible ringing, like the clash of thousands of ice needles. The young man opened his eyes and immediately squeezed them shut from the unbearable glare.
He lay on a surface so smooth and cold that at first he took it for a frozen lake. Getting to his feet, Elwin froze, blinded by the kaleidoscope of lights. He was in a hall where every decimeter of space—floor, walls, ceiling—consisted of perfectly polished mirrored panels. The light from rare crystals embedded in the seams of the slabs multiplied in millions of reflections, creating the illusion of an endless, empty city. Elwin saw thousands of his own copies receding beyond the horizon, and each breath sent a wave of movement through this silent army of doppelgangers.
Beside him, three other knights of the Seventh Detachment were rising: the stern veteran Brand, the silent Ulf, and young Mark. All looked disoriented. Brand instinctively reached for his sword but immediately recoiled—his own reflection did the same with such frightening synchronicity that a chill ran down the hardened fighter's spine.
"Don't move suddenly," Elwin whispered. His inner energy pulsed anxiously, reacting to the strange background of this place. "This isn't just a hall. It's the Pyramid of Reflections. The Temple isn't just showing us, it's... multiplying our presence until we lose ourselves."
Elwin activated his Spirit of "Tenacious Memory." His pupils dilated, filling with a soft blue glow. He tried to match the current geometry of the hall with what he had captured a split second before falling into the portal, but memory failed him. The endless recursion of mirrors created a logical loop. Space here was so curved that north could become south with a single turn of the head.
"It smells like ozone and... old ink here," Mark noted, looking around nervously. "As if someone just finished writing a huge book here and closed it right before we arrived."
"We need to find a way to the central axis," Elwin tried to inject confidence into his voice. "Otherwise, our own eyes will drive us mad before our energy reserves run out."
They moved along the mirrored gallery, trying to stay shoulder to shoulder. But the Pyramid of Reflections wasn't going to let them off so easily. After a hundred paces, the mirrors began to change their nature. The reflections no longer exactly mirrored the knights' movements.
Mark cried out when, in one of the panels, he saw himself with a face deeply etched with wrinkles, in armor covered in centuries-old rust. Brand froze before a huge pane in which he saw not his present self, but a scene from his past—a moment of shameful retreat he had tried to forget all these years.
Elwin felt cold drops of sweat run down his spine. His own Warrior-level inner power tried to hold his mind together, but this place attacked not the body, but identity.
"Close your eyes! Use only your sense of presence!" Elwin commanded, understanding that vision had become their main enemy.
But at that moment, the hall's silence was broken by that very thin ringing Elwin had heard upon waking. Directly from the mirrored walls, figures began to emerge. These were "Shards"—ghostly copies of the knights themselves, woven from a dim, vibrating haze. They had no faces, only smooth mirrored surfaces where their heads should be, but they clutched exact copies of the Order's swords in their hands.
"To battle!" Brand roared, instantly drawing his blade.
Brand's Shard mirrored his movement, but with terrifying ease, ignoring the inertia and weight of the metal. In this space, where energy was subject to the laws of visual deception, the enemy knew every move the defenders would make before it even formed in their muscles.
Elwin felt his Spirit of "Tenacious Memory" begin to choke on the incoming information stream. He saw thousands of versions of his own death in the reflections, and each Shard moved to make one of those versions a reality.
"Don't let them surround us!" Elwin drew his short sword, feeling his energy concentrate in his limbs for a decisive burst. "They're not human! Just echoes of the Temple!"
The first Shard lunged to attack. Its sword traced a cold, silvery arc in the air, aiming precisely for Mark's unprotected throat. The battle in the Pyramid of Reflections had begun, and Elwin understood: to survive here, they would have to fight not only shadows, but also the truth each of them had hidden so long within their Vessel.
The halls of the Temple of True Equilibrium filled with the clang of steel, echoing into the infinite mirrored distances, heralding a long and bloody night.