The Infinite Well

Chapter 14: The Mirrorblade



I – The Ashes of Return

The smoke rose long before David reached the village.

Black coils in a gray sky. A pillar of sorrow rising from a place that once welcomed him in silence.

Jallin had burned.

He stood at the crest of the ridge where stone gave way to scattered pine. Below, the village had become little more than broken timber and ash, the rooftops of ironwood cracked inward, shattered by heat that had not come from flame alone.

Lightning had struck—but it was wrong.

Not the clean force of sky-born storm.

It twisted. Warped.

It devoured rather than lit.

And etched in soot upon the charred remnants of the tavern was a single shape:

A hollow circle.

The sign of the Mirrorblade.

David's grip on his iron blade tightened.

The Well within him did not pulse—it listened.

Waiting.

As he stepped down into the remains of Jallin, the scent of scorched stone and mana-scorched blood filled the air. No cries. No survivors.

But no corpses either.

David's eyes scanned the ruins. Every soul had been taken, not left. It wasn't an execution—it was a harvest.

The Hollow was escalating.

And whoever had done this… had done it in his name.

He stopped at the center of town, where the fountain once stood. Now it was cracked open, a fracture running down the statue of an old swordsman in prayer.

A glint caught his eye—something placed intentionally at the base.

A mirror shard.

Perfectly polished.

And in its reflection, he saw not himself—

But himself, broken.

A David wrapped in chains of mana, eyes sunken with sorrow, blade reversed in his own chest.

He dropped the mirror instantly.

But the message had been received.

The Hollow had made a weapon in his image.

A Mirrorblade.

II – A Duel Not Yet Fought

He left the ruins without rest, following the mana trail only he could sense—one pulled to his core by the Infinite Well.

Through canyons.

Across rivers.

Up through rain-streaked slopes where the lightning never ceased.

The trail led to a ruin untouched by time—a forgotten citadel on a mountain plateau.

There, beneath a moon choked in clouds, he saw her.

The Mirrorblade.

She wore a cloak of silver threads that shimmered with distortion. Her face was covered by a veil of glass. Her sword—identical to David's own iron blade—rested calmly in her hand.

But more than all that—it was her aura.

It mirrored his own perfectly.

Down to the rhythm of breath.

Down to the memory of pain.

She did not speak.

Only raised her blade.

David approached slowly.

And then stopped.

"I don't want to kill you."

She tilted her head—almost curious.

"But I will," he continued, "if that's what it takes to protect what I've learned."

The wind stilled.

The duel began.

III – The Edge of Reflection

Their blades met like twin echoes.

No sparks. No cries. Only the reverberation of two wills clashing, each forged from the same path but bent in different directions.

David struck low—she countered with an echo of his Ashguard step.

He rose with a Flashfire sweep—she met it with Living Torch twisted into devouring flame.

She knew his style.

But it was more than mimicry.

It was intuition.

Each of her moves wasn't copied from him—they were predicted. Understood. Felt.

He realized, with a deepening ache, that she had been trained by the Hollow not to kill him.

But to replace him.

For every attack, she offered the perfected version of what he had once attempted.

His weaknesses from past battles—used against him now.

His lessons—turned inside out.

She was the shadow that sharpened itself on his light.

And still, he fought.

Not harder.

But truer.

Their fight spanned the length of the citadel, up cracked stairwells and across crumbling parapets. Mana surged, echoing against the bones of the old fortress. The Well within David began to fracture—not with damage, but with division.

Half of it still pulsed in harmony.

The other half...

Reflected her.

As if she had stolen a piece of his core.

At the highest spire, they stood breathless.

Swords locked.

Foreheads nearly touching.

David whispered, "Who are you?"

And for the first time, she spoke.

"I'm the version of you… that gave up."

He froze.

She continued, voice calm. Empty.

"I saw the cost. I saw the weight. I saw the lie in 'endless growth.' So I stopped climbing. I let the Hollow offer me something else—peace. Without choice. Without memory."

She pressed forward, blade grinding against his.

"I accepted what you never could."

David looked into her mirrored eyes.

"I'm sorry."

And then he let go of the lock.

IV – Breaking the Reflection

He did not strike again.

Instead, he closed his eyes.

And breathed.

He centered the Infinite Well—not to expand it, not to burn or convert.

But to remember.

Every lesson.

Every failure.

Every face.

The monks of Ember.

The child in the sandstorm.

Korran.

Leira.

His mother.

And with that memory, he reached for a technique he had never used—not because he couldn't.

But because it required more than strength.

It required forgiveness.

He stepped into her guard.

She moved to kill.

He did not defend.

He embraced her.

The blade pierced his side.

But the Well did not resist.

Instead, it flowed into her.

Through the blade.

Through the wound.

Through the tether that had made them mirrors.

And for the first time—she wept.

Tears fell, hissing against his cloak.

"I didn't want to be this…"

He whispered, "Then don't."

The blade fell.

She crumpled.

Not defeated.

Freed.

V – What Remains After the Battle

David lay on the citadel floor, blood pooling slowly. The stars above seemed clearer now.

She sat beside him, veil gone, face familiar.

Not his.

But born from him.

He didn't ask for her name.

She didn't offer one.

They simply watched the sky.

And slowly, the Well began to heal him.

Not instantly.

But faithfully.

She spoke first.

"They'll send another."

"I know."

"They'll send stronger."

"I'll grow wiser."

She looked down. "Why keep going?"

David stared at the stars.

"Because someone has to remember the path."

As dawn broke, she left, walking away from the Hollow's call.

And David, weak but whole, rose with the sun at his back.

The Mirrorblade was gone.

But the mirror had not broken.

It had changed.

And that would be enough—for now.


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