The glass-laden path stretched endlessly ahead, leading to the towering Eternal Mirror Spire. Its jagged, crystalline structure pierced the storm-ridden sky, radiating a malevolence that made the air hum with tension. Each step toward it felt like walking into a storm that might swallow them whole.

Riven adjusted his grip on his sword, the weight of it grounding him in the face of his growing dread. Beside him, Lyra moved with quiet purpose, though her translucent form flickered like a dying ember. Her gaze was fixed on the Spire, a mixture of defiance and fear etched into her face.

“Do you feel it?” Lyra whispered, her voice almost lost in the oppressive silence.

“Yeah.” The air thrummed, a low vibration just on the edge of hearing. It wasn’t natural; it was alive, a warning from the Spire itself. “We’re being watched.”

The glass beneath their feet rippled. Riven stopped, his senses sharpening. Around them, the mirrored shards embedded in the ground began to tremble, lifting into the air as though drawn by an unseen force. They spiraled upward, gathering into humanoid forms—glimmering constructs of jagged glass and light.

Five figures emerged, their crystalline bodies radiating an eerie glow. Their eyes were empty, yet they burned with a cold, unrelenting purpose.

System Notification:

[Shardborn Conclave Encountered. Threat Level: High.]

[Void Corruption – 15%. Combat Mode Activated.]

Lyra stepped back, her spectral energy flickering erratically. “Shardborn,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “They’re fragments of the Eternal Mirror itself. It’s using them to protect its heart.”

The lead Shardborn stepped forward, its voice grinding like the sound of glass shards scraping against one another. “Custodian, you tread where you do not belong. The Spire will not allow your meddling. Return to the Archive, or be shattered.”

Riven opened his mouth to reply, but a familiar, taunting voice spoke first.

“Maybe they’re right,” said his reflection, materializing in the mirrored shards around them. Its smirk was sharp and cruel, its eyes gleaming with mockery. “You really think you can save this place? You couldn’t even save yourself. What makes you think you’re worthy of this power?”

Riven’s grip tightened on his sword. The reflection’s words sank into him like hooks, dragging up memories he’d buried—faces he couldn’t save, choices he regretted. For a moment, his resolve wavered, doubt creeping into his mind like poison.

“Riven, don’t listen!” Lyra’s voice cut through the fog in his mind. “It’s trying to weaken you. Stay focused!”

The Shardborn didn’t wait for an answer. They moved as one, their crystalline limbs slicing through the air with precision and deadly speed. Riven barely parried the first strike, his blade sparking against the jagged glass. Another Shardborn lunged at Lyra, who twisted away, her spectral form flickering as she countered with a burst of ghostly energy.

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The fight was chaos. The Shardborn were unlike any enemy Riven had faced before. They moved with eerie coordination, anticipating his strikes and forcing him to retreat. His reflection appeared in every mirrored surface around him, its laughter cutting through the clash of battle.

“You’re too weak, Custodian,” it sneered. “You can’t even protect her.”

A sudden cry snapped Riven’s attention to Lyra. One of the Shardborn had struck her, and though she dodged most of the blow, her form flickered violently. She staggered back, clutching her side as if in pain.

“Riven!” she shouted, her voice urgent. “We can’t fight them head-on! Their cores—aim for their cores!”

Riven’s eyes darted to the faintly glowing centers of the Shardborn’s chests. The cores pulsed with light, the source of their power. But getting close enough to strike them would be near impossible with how fiercely they attacked.

“Got it,” he muttered, dodging another swipe from the nearest Shardborn.

He needed a plan. The boy’s voice echoed faintly in his mind: "The Archive isn’t just your burden—it’s your weapon. You are its Custodian. Use it."

Riven clenched his jaw. He had avoided tapping into the Archive’s power ever since the battle in the marketplace, afraid of what it might cost him. But now, he had no choice.

“Lyra, keep them distracted!” he shouted.

Lyra hesitated, her flickering form showing her exhaustion. But she nodded, launching herself at the Shardborn with renewed vigor. Her attacks were desperate, wild, but they kept the constructs focused on her.

Riven took a deep breath, centering himself. He reached out, not with his hands, but with his mind, toward the Shattered Archive. It was always there, hovering at the edge of his consciousness—a vast, infinite void filled with fragments of broken worlds. He felt its pull, its raw, chaotic power, and for the first time, he didn’t resist.

The glass beneath his feet trembled, then surged outward in a wave. The shards responded to his will, bending and reshaping themselves. The nearest Shardborn paused, its glowing eyes narrowing as it recognized the shift in the battlefield.

Riven moved. The ground beneath him erupted, jagged spikes of glass lancing toward the Shardborn. The constructs dodged, but Riven anticipated their movements. He directed the shards with precision, driving them toward the cores. One by one, the Shardborn fell, their cores shattering in bursts of light and sound.

The last Shardborn let out a distorted scream before collapsing into lifeless shards. Silence fell, broken only by Riven’s labored breathing. He dropped to one knee, his hands trembling as dark veins spread across them. System Notification:

[Void Corruption – 30%.]

Lyra approached cautiously, her expression a mix of awe and concern. “You… you used the Archive’s power,” she said. “Do you know what that means?”

Riven looked down at his hands. The dark veins pulsed faintly, a reminder of the cost. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” Lyra said softly, her voice tinged with sadness.

Riven pushed himself to his feet, his gaze fixed on the Spire. It loomed closer now, its malevolence more oppressive than ever. The Shardborn were only the beginning. Whatever waited for them inside would be far worse.

“We don’t have time for regrets,” Riven said, his voice hard. “Let’s finish this.”

Lyra hesitated, then nodded. Together, they moved toward the Spire, the weight of the battle still heavy on their shoulders. The Eternal Mirror awaited, and with it, a test of Riven’s strength—and his soul.