As Nyx's descent brought her closer, she looked down at the band of heroes below, and a faint frown creased her face. These were the warriors she had once believed in, offered a chance to walk alongside her in the path of light. But now, as their faces contorted with shock and sorrow, Nyx felt a strange sense of detachment, as though the memories that bound her to them were fading threads, barely connecting to the figure she had become. Their stares were filled with a mixture of grief and disappointment, piercing her like cold shards, yet they stirred only a distant echo within her—one of the countless souls who once gazed at her with admiration, awe, and reverence.
For a brief moment, her brows furrowed, a flicker of something recognizable passing over her expression before vanishing like a shadow chased by dawn. She shifted, her form casting long, ominous shadows that swallowed the fractured ground beneath her feet. Her gaze swept over them, impassive yet lingering, as if examining a memory from another life.
Lysandra's breath caught as she met Nyx's eyes, feeling as though a chasm opened between them. She took another step forward, her grip on her sword loosening momentarily before she steadied herself. Her mouth opened, then closed, struggling to form words that might reach the mentor who no longer seemed to recognize her. Her lips quivered, and she blinked against the sting of fresh tears, her expression an intricate mix of pain and determination. A fleeting shimmer of hope flickered in her gaze, a silent plea hidden in her tear-streaked eyes. She raised her sword, not as a weapon, but as a symbol of their bond, her hands trembling slightly as she lifted it toward Nyx, almost as if trying to remind her of what they once shared.
Ilyra's quiet grief was palpable. She moved slowly, placing her palm on the ground and murmuring a prayer in a language as old as the earth itself. She looked up, her face framed by the twisted vines and leaves in her hair, her expression one of quiet anguish and reverence. Her deep green eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her lips parted in a silent whisper to the trees around her, as if nature itself might offer comfort for the loss they all felt. Her fingers gently caressed a withered flower at her feet, her connection with the land amplifying the sorrow that radiated from her in waves. She felt the life beneath her dim, a mirror to the darkness that had taken Nyx. In that moment, she was not merely grieving for her mentor, but for the world, for the balance Nyx had once embodied and now threatened.
Nyx's frown deepened as she watched the group, her gaze resting on each one in turn, sensing the pain and loss in their expressions, yet feeling only the faintest tug of recognition. The light in their eyes, the silent grief woven in their gestures—it was all distant, faint echoes of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. She narrowed her eyes slightly, her face devoid of warmth, her lips pressed into a line as though trying to recall the familiarity they seemed to cling to. But the emotions they projected, the memories that bound them—they barely stirred the shadow within her.
"Is this what you are?" she finally spoke, her voice a low, hollow murmur that reverberated through the silent landscape. Her gaze swept over them, a flicker of disdain in her darkened eyes. "Look at you... clinging to something that no longer exists."
She straightened, lifting her chin as if to distance herself further, the light around her dimming as her aura grew colder, heavier.