Silvermist stood in the middle of the Cauldron. She could feel her breathing and she kept wincing as it hurts. She could feel the flames started heating up and it exhausts her even more.
She didn't know how it ended. Not really. Her memories blurred together in a chaotic mess of spinning lights, phantom voices, and the sickening sound of steel meeting flesh. She didn't know how she was able to pull that up.
Instincts? Probably. That would be the only thing that would explain all of what had happened and somehow, somewhere in that storm of fear and rage purely of instincts, she had struck the final blow.
The spear she had conjured—a dazzling crystal one forged from pure essence—had pierced the chest of her doppelgänger. She remembered the exact moment the spear sank into the other her's chest.
She remembered how it didn't resist. How it felt like stabbing into a void. No bones cracking. No blood gushing. Just silence… and then a grin.
That grin. Gods, it still haunted her.
