The next morning, Ethan stood on the eastern watchtower, the cold wind biting at his face.
Daniel was laughing below, sharing stories with villagers, his charm easy and natural, too natural. Even Lyra was beginning to waver. Ethan watched it all unfold with a growing weight in his chest.
The vision wouldn't leave his mind: Ashen burning, Daniel standing amidst the flames with Chloe at his feet. Not dead but trapped, pale and hollow-eyed. A prisoner in a twisted future. He clenched his fists. He needed to know the truth.
Ethan waited until dusk to confront him. Daniel was in the guest quarters, seated by the fire, flipping through a book on Avalonian history, pretending like he belonged.
"Tell me again," Ethan said from the doorway, voice low, "how you got here."
Daniel looked up, smiling. "Same way you did. Except I had help."
"Who?"
Daniel shrugged. "Didn't catch the name. Hooded guy. Gave me the coin, said it'd take me to you."
Ethan stepped closer. "Do you even have a sister?"
Daniel blinked. "What?"
"You said her name was Chloe. My sister's name. You said she was looking for me."
Ethan's voice sharpened. "But she's never met you. She didn't even know our dad remarried."
Daniel's smile faded. He stood slowly, but Ethan already had his blade drawn. The Seed pulsed at his chest.
"Drop the act," Ethan said. "Who are you?"
Daniel's features twitched. Not with fear but with irritation.
"You were always the clever one," the man said, and his voice changed. It rippled with static, a dozen tones laced together like a broken radio. "Vaelen said you'd be a challenge. I hoped he was wrong."
His skin peeled back slowly, like a mask melting.
Where Daniel once stood was a tall figure cloaked in shadow, eyes glowing with orange light, the veins of his face cracked like dried obsidian. Not a shifter—aShade.
"A soul mimic," Ethan whispered. "You copied his body from the memory I gave the Tree."
The Shade grinned. "And it made you hesitate. That's all we needed."
In an instant, the Shade lunged. Ethan dodged, channeling time, everything slowed. He stepped into the future by half a second, repositioned behind the creature, and slashed. The blade passed through smoke.
The Shade reformed across the room. "You still don't understand," it hissed. "This is not a war of blades, Ethan. This is a war of belief. And yours will break."
Suddenly, the torches dimmed. And behind Ethan, the door slammed shut. He turned but the room was gone. In its place stood a field of mirrors, infinite and spiraling, each one reflecting a version of him wounded, dying, betraying Lyra, destroying Ashen.
"You see?" the Shade whispered. "Every path ends in ruin."
Ethan staggered, heart pounding. "No…"
"Yes," the Shade hissed. "You cannot save both worlds. One must fall."
But then he heard her voice. Faint. Steady. Lyra.
He couldn't hear the words—but her voice, like a thread in the dark, pulled him from the spiral. He clenched his fists. The Seed in his chest glowed brighter.
He reached inward—not just to the Seed, but past it. To the people who trusted him. Mira. Tavren. Lyra. The villagers. Chloe. He refused to let fear dictate fate.
"I choose both," he growled.
With a cry, he shattered the mirror world with a pulse of golden energy.
He snapped back to the guest quarters. The Shade staggered, wounded by the rupture in time. "Impossible…"
But Ethan didn't hesitate.
He drove his blade into its chest. The creature screamed, disintegrating into ash and shadow, vanishing into the floor. Ethan stumbled out into the courtyard.
Lyra rushed to him. "What happened?"
He collapsed into her arms, exhausted. "He wasn't my brother. He was a Shade. A memory twisted into a weapon."
Mira and Tavren joined them, expressions grim.
"So the war's already begun," Mira said.
"No," Ethan said, standing slowly.
"It's already been waged. Now… it's our turn."