#Sorry if pyschological torment (/j) isn't in character

[shining-scion]

Alright, here it is.

“I want to be there, when you first transform.” The specter of the Shadow Queen muses, a rippling dark figure cradling her staff almost fondly as she stares down at the figure bundled in a burrower cloak. In the shadow of the eclipse tower, sheltered against pouring rain, was the young wizard— magic new and foreign to them sparking inside of their soul, coursing like waves as it surged and fought to settle, to assimilate. They felt none of this, and pointedly ignored the shade of the woman haunting them. “Ah, what did she tell you, little wizard? Was it the only way to defeat me?”

The woman’s voice is sickly high, now, and the freshly made shadowmancer stiffens, fighting to express no reaction of fear or discomfort to the mocking tone. “She’s lying to you. There is no way to defeat me. Though, to her credit, perhaps you almost have a fair shot, now… such is why I’d like to see the moment you really learn what you’ve done to your magic. The shrike that emerges from that despair will be glorious. I almost hope you survive long enough to truly face me.” They glance up, then— eyes darting to the Spider Queen’s unsteady illusion of a face in fearful suspicion. They know she only wishes to get inside their head, but memory betrays them. This was nothing like the man they had tragically fought in Dragonspyre. Never once had that conflict felt personal. “Oh, is it just the light, or have the shadows already begun to affect your eyes? Weren’t they a little brighter last I saw you?” They flinch, fingers trailing to their eyes as they glance around, sitting up straighter now as they try to find a reflective surface. “Would you like a mirror, little wizard?” Something clatters in front of them. They jolt once at the noise, staring down at the sudden dark framed hand mirror laying on the ground, jagged edges looking almost dangerous. The specter stands in front of them still, and to grab the mirror they’re forced to inch closer to the illusion, drawing back quickly once the object is in hand. “I do hope you remember what you looked like before the ritual. You’ve been here for how long, now? A few weeks? A month? A year?”   “I… only two weeks. I’m counting. You can’t trick me on that.” They reply, turning the mirror over in their hand before slowly tilting it towards their face. The Shadow Queen shrugs. “Well, it was worth a shot. The nights draw long in my web.” They make a point to show disinterest in her words, regarding their face instead, gaze deepening on their own eyes. They were a lilac, now and in the past— though the hue in the dark night of the current rain raises just enough doubt in their mind. Had their eyes changed? They had changed once, when mana flooded their soul for the first time and they acclimated to the lighter air and soaring skies of the Spiral. For it to change again would not surprise them, but it wouldn’t be welcome this time. They bring the mirror closer…

Only to jolt back as indistinct, flying swarms of bugs shoot out of the mirror— shadowy illusions like the queen herself, but enough to make them yell, enough to make them drop the mirror and slam their fist against the glass, cracking it. She cackles wickedly, haughty. “Fool girl! All reality is mine to control, and it will only get worse. Keeping the realm sane enough for you to navigate is a mercy I’ve extended to you.”

She turns away, then, regarding the rest of her domain with twisted pride. “I had hoped the fear of such a simple trick was enough of a trigger for your shadows to react, but it seems you hold yourself well. A good first step for you.”

Her form grows wispy, fading with a sudden break of dawn against the pouring rain. “I do hope our battle is well. We wouldn’t want my victory to be too easy, would we? The glory would be underwhelming…”

As quickly as she appeared, the Shadow Queen vanishes, leaving the young wizard alone in an uncertain daybreak, a cracked mirror at their feet and a simmering urge to press on in their heart.