"You'll lose everything!"
"I've already lost everything. Multiple times. And I survived." She looked into those dead eyes, saw her own fear reflected back. "I survived my father's death. My mother's illness. Giving up my freedom for my sister. Being hunted. Being marked. Being claimed."
"And it broke you—"
"And I'm still here." Briar's voice was steady now. "Broken or not, I'm still standing. Still fighting. Still choosing."
Shadow-Briar's form was definitely wavering now, edges becoming indistinct.
"You don't love them," she said desperately. "It's just the magic—"
"Maybe it started as magic." Briar didn't let go of the shadow's wrist. "But I choose to let it become real. I choose to love them, all of them. I choose to believe they could love me back, magic or not."
"That's delusion—"
"That's hope." Briar pulled the shadow even closer, until there was no space between them. "And hope is the one thing you can't understand. Because shadows don't hope. They just fear."
"I am you—"
"You're part of me," Briar corrected. "The scared part. The doubtful part. The part that believes every cruel thing ever said to me. But you're not all of me."
She wrapped her arms around Shadow-Briar, embracing her shadow self fully.
"And I'm not going to be afraid of you anymore."
Shadow-Briar screamed, thrashed, tried to pull away. But Briar held on, held tight, accepting this dark part of herself instead of fighting it. The shadow's form began to dissolve, melting into black smoke that smelled of copper and dying flowers.
"You can't…" Shadow-Briar said weakly.
"I can and I do. I accept you," Briar said simply. "I accept that I have these fears. These doubts. This darkness. It's part of me. But it doesn't control me and it won’t define me."
The shadow dissolved completely, black smoke swirling around her, through her. For a moment, Briar felt it all—every fear, every doubt, every cruel thought she'd ever had about herself. The weight of it was crushing.
Then it settled into her chest, alongside the warmth. Not gone, but integrated. Part of her, but not controlling her.
The chamber changed. The phosphorescent light shifted from sickly green to softer white, less oppressive. She could move now without the weight of surrender pressing down on her.
She looked at the Drak warriors scattered throughout the chamber. They'd died here facing their own shadows, unable to accept what they saw. Their families would never know what happened to them, would never have closure.
Unless.
Briar moved to the nearest body, an older warrior whose scales had gone grey at the edges. Around his neck hung a pendant, carved bone with symbols she couldn't read. His family would want this. She took the pendant carefully, tucking it into her belt.
The next warrior wore a ring of twisted metal. She took that too. Another had a braided cord around his wrist with beads woven through it. A younger warrior had a small knife with an ornate handle, more ceremonial than practical.
She moved through the chamber methodically, taking something from each body. A pendant here, a weapon there, pouches with personal items—a child's drawing on scraped hide, a lock of hair, a small carved figure.
The items grew heavy quickly. Her pockets bulged, her belt sagged with the weight, she had to carry some in her arms. Each stop cost her energy she didn't have, her body already exhausted from the confrontation with her shadow self.
She made her way back through the tunnel, the phosphorescent light dimming as she moved away from the chamber. The bodies she'd passed on the way in were stillthere, and she stopped at each one, taking tokens. More pendants, more weapons, more personal effects.
By the time she reached the first warrior she'd seen, the one slumped peacefully against the wall near the entrance, her arms were full. The weight made walking difficult, each step requiring conscious effort. Her muscles shook with exhaustion.
But she couldn't leave them. These warriors had died for their people, and their families deserved something back.
The cave mouth appeared ahead, actual sunlight filtering through. Late afternoon light, gold and red. Had it been hours? It felt like days, but the sun suggested otherwise.
She stumbled out of the cave, arms full of tokens, legs barely holding her.
