The Hollowborn Leech laughed through Calla's face.
Not a scream. Not a roar. A low, mocking giggle—smeared through static, stretched by something that didn't know how to be human.
Calla froze.
The flame in her hand flickered. Faded.
She couldn't look away from the mimic—her own burning face, crying, scorched and helpless.
The beast surged.
"Calla, MOVE!" Rei shouted.
He leapt between her and the oncoming strike, taking the brunt of it. The Hollowborn's claw cracked his ribs—he stumbled, coughing blood, but stayed upright.
Nova dashed in from the side, slashing deep. Her blades tore a path across the mimicry's warped face. It shrieked—but didn't fall.
Selene raised her hand. Light pulsed—too weak to blind, just enough to stall.
Talon, still on one knee, finished his latest sigil—a crude mirror in chalk on stone.
"NOW, Kieran!" he gasped.
Kieran didn't hesitate. He stepped in front of Calla, shadow burning around him.
He faced the Hollowborn directly.
It tried to shift again—into him this time. His own voice, his own doubt.
But Revelation pulsed within.
He saw the false frame. The rotten mimic. The lie.
"You're done," he said, low.
Behind him, Calla's fists clenched.
Flame sparked again.
Not wild. Not unstable.
Steady.
Controlled.
She inhaled—slow, focused, deliberate.
The mimic still wore her face.
Still wept.
But this time, she didn't flinch.
"I'm not afraid of her anymore," Calla said quietly. "She died in that fire. I didn't."
The flame surged.
It didn't burst outward.
It flowed.
Like a river of gold wrapping her arms, circling her wrists, dancing in her hair. Her eyes glowed orange as the fire licked up her spine—not devouring, but belonging.
Kieran stepped aside.
Calla stepped forward.
The Hollowborn tried to retreat. Its mimicry cracked. It shrieked and twisted—
But it was too late.
Calla struck with both hands, flame coiled into a spear. She drove it straight through the mimic's chest—into the pulsing amber light beneath its ribs.
Fire met false memory.
The scream was deafening.
The spiral chamber ignited not with heat, but light. A cleansing flash that burned shadows, not skin.
The Hollowborn disintegrated mid-screech, its mimicry breaking apart like glass in wind.
Then silence.
Ash drifted down like snow.
Calla stood, breathing hard, surrounded by smoke and glowing embers.
The others slowly rose wounded, exhausted, alive.
Kieran met her gaze. "You good?"
She nodded once. "I'm in control now."
The chamber groaned.
And then, with a sigh that sounded almost like release.
The spiral shattered.
The monolith cracked.
And from the dust, something small and warm pulsed on the stone floor.
A new feather.
Not gold. Not silver.
Crimson.