Date: February 12, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Moving through the Pyramid of Reflections was like wandering inside an infinite crystal. The walls of the corridors, made of perfectly fitted mirrored slabs, not only reflected light—they seemed to absorb the very essence of the living beings' presence. Elwin led his group, and each of his steps echoed with a dry, short echo that instantly multiplied in millions of mirrored facets.
Brand, Ulf, and Mark followed him, staying an arm's length away. Over the past hours, they had learned not to look around: the Pyramid continued to throw false images at them, trying to confuse their minds. But Elwin was unshakeable. His Spirit of "Tenacious Memory" worked in cartographer mode. The young man didn't just walk; he built a three-dimensional model of the labyrinth in his mind, fixing every turn and every microscopic crack at the seams of the slabs.
"The air is becoming... sterile," Brand said quietly, adjusting the strap of his heavy sword. "It smells of ozone and cold steel."
"We're approaching something," Elwin replied. His gaze was fixed on the barely perceptible vibration emanating from the floor. "The Temple is divided into sectors, and we're now crossing the boundary of the outer ring."
Their path was blocked by a huge mirrored wall that at first glance seemed a dead end. But Elwin, analyzing the fall of light from a distant crystal, found a point of distortion. He pressed his palm to the cold surface, and his inner energy passed through the obsidian in a soft impulse. The wall didn't part—it simply became transparent, opening a passage into a grandiose hall.
The knights entered, and their boots touched a surface resembling a frozen lake of mercury. The hall was so enormous that the ceiling was lost in a grey haze, and the walls consisted of colossal concave mirrors that distorted space, making it seem infinitely deep.
In the very center of the hall, on an elevation that resembled the faceted peak of an iceberg, stood a guardian.
At first glance, it could be mistaken for a statue, but the power of the Pillar rank emanating from it pressed on the Order's knights with physical force. This was a Mirror Centurion. Its body, over three meters tall, was woven from hundreds of flat crystalline plates that were not rigidly connected. They floated a millimeter apart, held together by an invisible bond, and constantly made micro-movements, adjusting to the hall's lighting.
The Centurion had no face in the usual sense. Instead, it had a smooth, slightly convex disc of black obsidian, in which Elwin saw his entire reflection: from his pale face to every rivet on his armor. In its right hand, the guardian clutched a long, thin blade, its edge transparent as ice, but within it pulsed a deathly white spark.
"To battle..." Elwin whispered, feeling his Vessel involuntarily tense, trying to build a defense against this pressure.
The Centurion slowly, with a crystalline screech, stepped down from its pedestal. Its movements lacked fluidity; they were discrete—one second it stood motionless, the next its figure was a meter closer, as if the space between the points had simply been cut out.
A thin, piercing ring rolled through the hall. The guardian raised its transparent sword, and thousands of answering lights flared in the mirrored walls around the knights. Each mirror now broadcast the Centurion's readiness to attack, creating the illusion that an entire army was arrayed against them.
Elwin felt cold sweat run down his spine. His Spirit of "Tenacious Memory" tried to fix all the reflections, but there were too many. Information flooded his mind, causing a sharp pain in his temples.
The guardian halted ten paces from them, blocking the only exit on the opposite side of the hall. Its black, faceless "face" was pointed directly at Elwin. In the silence of the Temple of True Equilibrium, this moment seemed an eternity—an instant before the first blood would stain the flawless mirrored floor.
"Stand close together!" Elwin shouted, drawing his short blade. "Don't let it break our formation!"
But the Centurion had already made its first lunge. The air in the hall groaned as the transparent blade, saturated with the Pillar's power, traced an invisible line through space. The battle, in which the Warriors had no right to make a mistake, began under the silent vaults of the Pyramid of Reflections.