Eclipse Online: The Final Descent

The storm drew closer.

It wasn't louder, and it didn't really change shape—but its weight was different. Before, it had stretched endlessly across the Fork, without a clear beginning or end.

Now, it seemed to fold inward, pulling everything toward one hidden point, like a whirlpool in the air itself.

Kaito felt it in his skin, as though unseen hands pressed against him and Nyra, forcing them to keep walking.

He staggered under the weight of the scythe. Every step seemed harder than the last. The Dominion's fire still burned in his veins, leaving him restless and raw.

The Root's hunger gnawed at his ribs like a beast that refused to die. And the fragments of the paths he had not chosen screamed inside his head, clawing at his thoughts with voices that did not belong to him. Each breath came like glass ready to splinter, fragile and sharp, threatening to break apart at any moment.

And yet, the path remained before him. No matter how much the storm crushed in, no matter how heavy his burden grew, the way forward still stretched ahead—narrow, dark, unyielding.

Up ahead, something glowed faintly in the storm. It pulsed in and out, not steady but alive, as if the storm itself breathed it.

The light wasn't golden like Dominion's fire, nor black like the Root's hunger. It wasn't even the violet shimmer of the scythe. This was different. Silver. Cold, sharp, and unyielding—like a blade. It reminded Kaito so much of Nyra's eyes that he slowed without realizing it.

He turned his gaze toward her. He had faced her once before, stood against her when he had no choice. Now she walked quietly at his side, wings folded tight against her back, her steps steady even as the storm pressed in.

She didn't speak. Her eyes were fixed on the silver glow ahead, and her face carried an expression Kaito couldn't place. It wasn't fear. It wasn't resistance. It was something softer, quieter, as if she knew the light in front of them better than he did.

The bridge of stone narrowed to a strand, on which dangled a platform in the abyss. On it was another spire, though smaller than the first they had destroyed. This one wasn't made of bone or glass. It was made of feathers.

Tens of thousands of silver feathers piled into the shape of a tower, their edges sharp. Each feather softly radiated the silver, like a pulse.

Nyra froze in terror. Her wings hardened into a tensed position, darkness curling around her arms. "This is not yours."

Kaito's chest burned as he looked at the tower. "Then it's yours."

The storm shifted, muttering low, voices like glass severed by knives. The bridge continued until they arrived at the bottom of the spire made of feathers. Its surface shone, reflecting stormlight.

And then, as if to accept Nyra, the feathers aparting.

A doorway lay open, through which silver darkness glowed.

Nyra did not move. Her eyes narrowed, cold and keen. "This is not for you. Stay here."

Kaito's face darkened, his grip on the scythe clenched. "I've traversed every shard to this point. I'm not going to let you do this by yourself."

Her gaze snapped to him. Not the cold steel, for once. Something more fragile, something more lethal. "Kaito. If this is what I fear it is, you can't help me. You'll only bleed for nothing."

He stepped closer, the storm tugging at his cloak. "Then I'll bleed beside you."

For a long moment, her jaw clenched, her silver eyes locked on his. Then, without another word, she turned and entered the spire.

Kaito followed.

The interior was not an echo hall. It was a sky.

They stepped into an ocean of silver clouds, a horizon stretching out in every direction. There was no land, but they were on it. Outside, the tempest raged on, and silence so sharp it throbbed in Kaito's head.

Feathers drifted listlessly through the air, and they had a soft, ethereal glow. They didn't mirror Kaito, but Nyra. Many versions of her.

Some walked alongside him. Some walked alone. Some had wings as black as darkness. Others had wings of white, pure. Some were broken at his feet, blood trickling from their mouths. Others soared higher than the heavens.

Kaito turned round, his heart pounding. "These are…"

"Me," Nyra said flatly, folding her wings in. "The selves I never was."

A voice cut across the sky.

It was not Dominion. It was not Root. It was not the unchosen's cry. It was Nyra's voice—but not she.

"You were nothing."

Something descended from the clouds.

She was Nyra, but altered. Her wings were not shadow-silver but brilliant white, huge and terrible. Her eyes burned not with steel but with icy fire. She radiated presence—authoritative, godlike, perfect.

This Nyra landed softly before them, feathers spilling everywhere. She gazed at Kaito in contempt, then Nyra in derision.

"You sought weakness," she said to them. Her voice echoed through the silver air, sharp as blades. "You bound yourself to him. To darkness. To ruin."

The real Nyra's expression didn't falter, but her fists tightened. "I chose to survive."

The second Nyra shook her head, lips curling. "Survive? You crawled. You clung to crumbs. You bound yourself to your brother's despair rather than standing as you should."

Kaito stepped forward, scythe in hand. But Nyra's arm darted out, stopping him.

"This is mine," she whispered.

The other Nyra's wings unfurled, a hurricane of feathers bursting across the sky. Each feather carried an image—Nyra victorious, Nyra loved, Nyra victorious, Nyra standing where no shadow dared approach her.

"You might have been so much greater," the voice hurled. "But you preferred chains."

Kaito's chest tightened. He could feel the weight of it, the same test he had passed, but sharper. Because this wasn't for him. This was Nyra's shard.

The two Nyras faced each other, the air electric with tension. Then the silver-winged Nyra drew a light sword out of her own feathers. "Prove you are worthy to be. Or break back into me."

The sky trembled.

The battle erupted.

They advanced too swiftly for Kaito's eyes to catch up.

Nyra surged ahead, her shadows winding into spears that struck from every direction.

The doppelganger with the silver wings batted them aside with ease, her blade cleaving shadows in half as if they were strands of smoke. Her wings sliced through the air, every feather a blade.

The battle rang out bright across the silver horizon. Feathers and shadows tore into each other, bursts of silver and black overflowing.

Kaito gripped his scythe, craving action. But he remembered her words—This is mine.

So he watched.

Nyra fought in fury, each cut precise, each shadow honed. But the mirror was flawless. Each move flawless, each strike complete.

She was unencumbered by fear, or injury, or compromise. She was everything Nyra could have been, if she'd made other decisions.

The blade of the reflection cut through Nyra's wing. Feathers fluttered, silver and black. She staggered, her jaws clenched.

"You can't win," the reflection said with cold voice. "You are broken. You are bound. You are less."

Nyra spat, her shadows burning. "And yet I still stand."

They battled again, the reflection shoving her to the ground, blow by blow. The sky trembled with each blow.

Kaito's heart ached as he watched. He had fought against his own reflections, his own shards, but this—witnessing Nyra bleed against the perfection of herself—was worse than any shard he'd ever clutched.

The reflection brought Nyra to the ground, knife raised over her throat. "Submit," she snarled. "Unmake yourself into me, and let me reclaim what you wasted."

Nyra's silver eyes blazed. She spat blood, her wings expanding wide. "I am not you. I am not perfection. I am not unbroken."

Her shadows seethed, forming around the reflection's blade, holding it firm. She rose slowly to her feet, wings opening.

"I am scarred. I am flawed. I am bound." Her voice ascended, echoing across the sky. "And because of that—I am free!"

Her shadows erupted, not spears, but wings, great and black, over the reflection. The silver Nyra screamed, her flawless shape exploding under the weight of imperfection, shattering into a storm of feathers.

The shards of light silver spiraled into Nyra's chest. She staggered, gasping, wings trembling. But when she looked up, her eyes still blazed silver.

Kaito rushed to her side, catching her before she fell. She clung to him, gasping, but she survived.

The silver sky trembled, and cracked. Feathers rippled to stormlight, the spire crashing down.

When the world steadied, they were once more on the bridge, storm howling around them.

Nyra's wings hung limp, feathers worn, but her gaze was strong. "Another shard," she whispered.

Kaito clamped his hand on her arm, steadying her. His voice was rough but unyielding. "You endured. As did I."

She looked at him then, her silver eyes clashing with his violet-scoured. For a moment, no abyss, no whirlwind, no shatters of anything—only the weight they shared alike.

Then the abyss howled once more, and the road continued, deeper still.

The Fork was far from through with them.

Not yet.