I quicken my pace, breathing ragged as shards of broken crystal crunch under my boots. The chill in the air cuts at my throat, and every step rattles the emptiness of these warped spires. My corrupted arm thrums in warning—shadows swirl beneath the ward, pressing against its fraying lines. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm, to sense my surroundings.

  Then I see it. Reflections dance along the mirrored surfaces around me, revealing a serpentine silhouette flickering in and out of focus. A Mirrorwyrm. Its long body melds seamlessly with the twisted glass, each jagged plate reflecting slivers of the eerie green sky. I should have sensed it sooner.

  Before I can form a plan, it lunges from a nearby pillar, maw splitting wide in a whirl of rotating glass teeth. I twist away at the last second, but its tail snaps across my side, slicing through my robes and drawing hot blood. My wound stings, a cold burn that spreads through the torn fabric—poisoned glass.

  Pain lances across my ribs, but there’s no time to tend it. The Silver Eye Pendant flares, casting an icy pulse against my chest. A flash of insight washes over me: Kael’s hounds, prowling miles behind, closing in with lethal intent. They’re coming, and they won’t hesitate this time.

  I press a trembling hand against the wound, trying to keep the corruption contained, but the Mirrorwyrm circles, each motion nearly invisible against the reflective spires. Lyra’s voice whispers in my ear, so faint I have to strain to hear:

  “The Mirrorwyrm is fragile, but it regenerates once destroyed.”

  Her warning sears itself into my thoughts. That means I need the Void Glass Dagger to truly end it. Yet the mere idea sets off a hunger in my corrupted arm—a savage longing to shatter the ward and release the dagger’s power. No, I tell myself. I won’t feed it. Not yet.

  I steady my breathing, muscles coiled, staff clenched tight. Casting a direct spell is risky if the wyrm moves too fast. So I wait, reading the faint tremors in the glass beneath my feet. My shoulder throbs where the creature struck me, each heartbeat sending a spike of pain through my side.

  The Mirrorwyrm slithers closer, silent except for the distant scrape of its glass scales.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Now.

  I swing the staff like a club, channeling what remains of my raw power into its core. Violet arcs of magic crackle along the staff’s thorny ridges, digging into my palm as I pour every ounce of will I have left into the strike.

  A deafening crack erupts when staff meets skull. Violet flames blossom from the point of impact, dancing like living spirits around the wyrm’s shimmering body. It lets out a shriek that reverberates through the spires, then explodes into countless shards of glass, each fragment screaming as it disintegrates. The force of the blast throws me backward into a column, but the staff’s protective aura spares me from the worst of the flying debris.

  The backlash slams into my corrupted arm, nearly shattering the sigil that holds the darkness at bay. A piercing wave of numbness creeps from my wrist up to my elbow, the black veins quivering with malevolent glee. The Void Glass Dagger hums at my belt, eager for release, but I grit my teeth and keep it sheathed.

  I won’t succumb… not yet.

  Amid the smoking wreckage, the Mirrorwyrm’s core—a pulsating orb of twisted glass—rolls to my feet. A dull, urgent pain throbs in my arm as I spot flickers of motion along the horizon. Kael’s hounds, their howls a metallic crescendo in the distance, tearing across the Wastes. If they reach me, I might not have the strength to fend them off in this state.

  I take a faltering step closer to the wyrm’s core, heart pounding. Already, the scattered glass shards tremble, drawn back toward it like iron filings to a magnet. Fragments begin fusing into shape once more. If I destroy the core with my dagger, I’ll have to let the corruption in further. But the thought of feeding that darkness again sends a cold tremor through my veins.

  No. Let the wyrm have its second life—and let it clash with Kael’s beasts instead.

  I spin on my heel, ignoring the fresh wave of pain that ripples through my side. My feet pound over broken crystal as I break into a desperate sprint. Behind me, glass shards lift and coalesce in a whirling storm as the Mirrorwyrm reforms, screeching its rebirth. Just then, three of Kael’s lupine monstrosities bound into the valley—jaws lined with Void Glass fangs, molten metal dripping from their fur.

  A shrill cry rings out as the Mirrorwyrm lunges, colliding with the first hound in a splintering cascade of teeth and claws. Sparks dance in the air. The snarls and shrieks thunder around the spires, letting me slip deeper into the Glass Wastes—away from them all.

  I clench the staff in my good hand, each step sending a jolt of agony through my wounded side. The pendant’s chill steadies me, reminding me of Lyra’s presence. If the wyrm and hounds devour each other, maybe I’ll gain the lead I need.

  Just a few more steps, I tell myself. Just a little farther.

  And so I run, pressing on through the labyrinth of shattered reflections, hoping that I can reach the Blind Citadel before Kael does—and before my own corruption destroys me from within.