The chamber of the wellspring shifted, the swirling energies slowing as the shadows before them solidified into more distinct forms. Each figure was dark, but familiar—familiar because they were fragments of themselves, drawn from the deepest recesses of their minds. The silence was thick, broken only by the faint hum of the wellspring's energy as it watched and waited for the battle to begin.
Elara's shadow stepped forward first. It was an exact mirror of her, down to the smallest detail, but the look in its eyes was cold, devoid of the warmth she usually carried. It held a twisted version of her amulet in its hand, the pulsing light within it flickering like a dying flame. The shadow's lips curved into a cruel smile, mocking her.
"I know you," it said, its voice an echo of Elara's own, but hollow. "The doubts you hide, the mistakes you can't forget. You think you're strong, but you're only pretending. You don't belong here."