âYou think you can defeat me? Perhaps first you should consider whether you can defeat yourselves!â Armonix raised his hands and magic flashed out across his throne room. Shadows swirled and coalesced between him and the party of so-called âheroesâ.
âThis spell reveals only the truth, pulling out the darkest corners of your heart and manifesting them for all to see!â
The first took the form of a towering barbarian, her face contorted in a vicious grin.
âAh, Flaneron the Slayer. Conqueror of beasts, hero of the western lands. But look at your face. You donât fight to protect the weak. You do it because you love the violence. The feeling of life draining through your blood soaked hands.â
âThatâs not true!â Flaneron shook her head in denial, but even then she was taking a step back, shame clear on her face.
The next figure manifested, a wizard, radiating contempt, his hands crackling with power.
âRoier the Red. A thirst for arcane power, but what drives you more is your obvious disgust with everyone below you. Which, judging from your doppelganger, is everyone, especially your companions.â
Roierâs silence was damning.
The next copy was diminutive. A gnome with a crazed look in her eyes.
âAw, Mxwhorl Sprogspring-â
âShhhh!â the shadowy artificer snapped. âKill them or donât, as long as I get to record the data.â She cackled with glee.
âI-Iâm not like that at all!â the real Mxwhorl protested, looking nervously at the other her. âSure I get a little lost in my research at times butâŠâ
âAw, here we see her most useful feature,â the other her said, âself delusion! Quite useful when trying to squelch her guilt about how little she really cares about other people. Fascinating! Please, go on, this is wonderful data.â
Another figure took form. A handsome man in fine robes.
âOh, Hirta the healer. I wonder what darkness lies in the shadows of your holy light.â
The dark Hirta didnât say a word. He regarded his counterpart, then gave a knowing smirk and winked. The real Hirta gasped and staggered backwards, as if he had been physically struck. Armonix didnât know what secret Hirta was hiding, but clearly is was something that haunted the cleric.
A final shadow person stepped forward, his armor gleaming and sacred sword sheathed on his back.
âLet me guess.â Arnor the Hero said, facing his dark reflection, âyouâre, what, my arrogance or vanity or whatever?â
Arnor the Anti-Hero scoffed. âVanity? But that would imply you actually thought highly of yourself. Oh, what would the others do if they knew the only reason youâre even here is because you lie awake at night terrified by the knowledge that in a hundred years nobody alive will even remember your name. Oops, I guess they know now.â
Arnor held his sword up between them, as if it could shield him from the otherâs cutting words.
Armonix laughed triumphantly. âAnd now the world shall know how truly weak you all are⊠whenâŠâŠ uhâŠâŠ.â
Another shadow condensed, taking the form of a tall figure, face cloaked by a black mask. They were slim and held in their hands some kind of device, perhaps a magic staff? It was long and perfectly straight, made of black metal. It was a tube, several feet long, that terminated on one end with another tube, a hands breadth in length, and slightly wider than longer portion. The other end of the staff attached to a broad but thin cudgel, though it looked neither sharp enough to cut, nor sturdy enough to serve as a mace. A pair of thin armatures attached to the tube midway up its length, held parallel to the tube by a latching mechanism of some sort, and hinged in a way that suggested they could fold out.
âWho is this, then?â demanded Arnor. âSomeâŠ. representation ofâŠ. I donât even know.â
To be honest, Armonix didnât know either. The spell was magnificent in its simplicity. He designated a group and the magic drew its essence from the parts of them that they wished most desperately to keep hidden. It wasnât supposed to create a new person from nothing.
The shadow party regarded with new figure with equal confusion.
âA trick,â declared shadow Roier. âConjured to confuse us. But youâre hardly smart enough to think of that yourself.â He looked accusingly at the real wizard, who shook his head, denying his involvement.
âYeah, you donât know who I am,â the new individual spoke, âthatâs my shame. I think to myself that Iâm one of you, but youâve never laid eyes on me. I skulk and watch, always at a distance. Never there to provide comfort or companionship. The only aid I can give is a silent death to the enemies you donât see coming. Six years weâve traveled together. Six years of joys and sorrows, victories and defeats, love and hate and memories and in all of them I am a shadow cast by your brilliance. Even now, I cannot bare to speak your names, or mine.â They shook their head in disgrace.
âHold on,â Flaneron said, âare you suggesting that you, or, the real you, is somewhere nearby? Has been⊠stalking us for years without any of us noticing?â
âIs that a boomstick of some kind?â Mxwhorl said, pointing at the device the unidentified shadow held. âIt looks like star metal, but the aperture is too narrow. The barrel is too long as well, you couldnât possible hold it stable with both hands and⊠oh! Those are legs! Do you fire it from a prone position?â
âMxy, now is not the time!â snapped Arnor.
âIndeed,â his shadow said, drawing his weapon. âThe time for talking is past.â
âFinally!â Shadow Flaneron bared her teeth and laughed like a hyena, ready for blood. âI want to feel her heart die in my hands!â She drew her axe and took a menacing step forward. Her head snapped back suddenly, a spray of red mist expanding behind her as she collapsed, her body dissolving to smoke before it hit the ground.
âWhat magic was that-â Shadow Roier toppled as his knee exploded, severing the leg cleanly. Red mist blossomed from his chest even as he fell and then he was gone as well.
Panic descended. The shadow figures charged recklessly and the heroes scrambled to recover. Arnor met his match, swords clashing, until the other spun from an unseen blow to the shoulder. Arnor finished him off with a clean sweep of his blade, severing the imposterâs head from his body.
Armonix watched in confusion and horror as one by one the shadows were downed, until it only Mxwhorl remained, who was sitting on the floor, furiously scribbling equations across the stonework with the help of her other self.
âOf course!â she shouted, âThe inside of the barrel must be grooved to produce a rotational force-â
â-which would stabilize the projectileâs path-â the real one said.
âwhich, combined with a powerful enough propulsive force-â
â-would increase the effect range to potentially more than several furlong!â
â-would increase the effect range to potentially more than several furlong!â They shouted in unison.
Shadow Mxwhorl jumped up and turned to Armonix and started to say something, but whatever it was was cut off when her head dissolved in a burst of smoke and she too collapsed.
The unknown shadow hadnât moved an inch the entire time. They turned their gaze out one of the windows which overlooked the ravaged landscape that surrounded Arminoxâs fortress. They gave a solemn nod, closed their eyes, and vanished as one final projectile found its mark.
Silence fell. Arminox and the gathered heroes slowly turned to face each other across the throne room. He raised his hands slowly, this time in surrender. âNot going to lie, that was fucking terrifying. You fucking win.â
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