Chapter 5: The Oracle's Reckoning The Oracle’s final pronouncement hung in the air, not as sound, but as a resonant echo within my very bones. The light of the Nexus Point receded, leaving the white marble shrine to pulse with its own internal, steady glow. Theron stood beside me, his usual sharp features softened by a gravity I hadn't seen before. He looked at me, his gaze unreadable in the dimming light, and the weight of what the Oracle had told us – of the Sundering, of the choices that lay before us – settled upon us like a shroud. “The mending,” I murmured, the words feeling heavy, inadequate. “That’s what we need to focus on. The Oracle said the artifact was forged to mend.” Theron turned his attention back to the altar, his fingers tracing the interlocking circles etched into its surface. “To mend, yes. But it also warned of assimilation. A surrender of one reality to another.” His voice was low, a stark contrast to the booming pronouncements we had just heard. “The Oracle spoke in riddles, Helena. And riddles rarely have a single, simple answer.” He glanced at me again, a flicker of something I couldn't quite decipher in his eyes. Was it suspicion? Doubt? Or perhaps something else, something akin to the unease that was beginning to coil in my own gut? “You believe ‘assimilation’ is a passive event, then? That it’s something that will just happen to us?” “The Oracle mentioned ‘shattering the cycle’ too,” I countered, the fragmented futures the Oracle had projected replaying in my mind. “And the idea of creating a new world, or one where the old is lost. It sounds like a choice, not a fate.” I tightened my grip on the artifact, its familiar warmth a small comfort against the growing chill of uncertainty. “If we embrace the mending, truly embrace it, we might avoid the worst.” “And if we don’t?” Theron’s question was a quiet challenge. “If ‘mending’ requires a sacrifice that we are unwilling or unable to make? The Oracle was clear: ‘The lock is unforgiving.’” He looked up at the fractured sky above us, where the vortex of splintered light still swirled. “It also spoke of the two realms being a ‘symptom.’ And this place,” he gestured to the Nexus Point, “is a conduit.” A low rumble vibrated through the shrine, not from the fractured dome this time, but from somewhere deeper, somewhere within the earth itself. Dust rained down again, and the pulsing light of the altar flickered, mirroring the sudden agitation in the vortex above. The air grew heavy, charged with an almost tangible energy. “It’s reacting,” I said, my voice tight. The artifact in my hand thrummed against my palm, a frantic, accelerated beat. “The residual energy from the Oracle’s revelation. It’s attracting something.” From the fractured sky, thin tendrils of shadow began to writhe, like ink bleeding into water. They coalesced, thickening, darkening, pulling themselves into indistinct forms that seemed to writhe with an unnatural hunger. They were familiar, yet terrifyingly different – amplified by the duality of this place, each emerging shape seemed to shimmer with a faint, second self. “Shadow beasts,” Theron stated, his hand going to the hilt of a ceremonial dagger tucked into his belt. His posture shifted, the tentative explorer replaced by the wary guardian. “They’re drawn to power, and the Oracle’s pronouncements were a beacon.” The tendrils twisted, weaving themselves into monstrous shapes. One, vaguely reptilian, solidified into a hulking beast with scales like obsidian and eyes that glowed with malevolent amber light. As it took its final form, a faint shimmer ran through it, and a second, identical beast peeled away, its movements perfectly synchronized. Then another, and another, until the fractured sky seemed to teem with them, each one a perfect, terrifying echo of its sibling. “Twice the beasts,” I said, a cold knot forming in my stomach. “Twice the danger.” My mind raced, trying to recall the lessons of the previous encounters. The Shadow Beasts thrived on chaos, on division. The artifact, the very thing that amplified reality, was also their greatest ally in this doubled world. Theron nodded, his gaze sweeping across the growing horde. “They’ll try to overwhelm us. To break our focus. The Oracle spoke of ‘mending,’ Helena. Perhaps that’s our first test. To create a singular point of stability amidst this amplified chaos.” He looked at me, his expression intense. “The artifact. Can it… can it temporarily revert a portion of this duality? To create a single, solid form we can fight?” I considered his words, the artifact pulsing in my hand, its power a wellspring I was only beginning to understand. The Oracle had said it amplified, but also that it bound. It preserved the echo. Could it, then, also undo it, even for a moment? “I… I think so. It’s amplified my magic, creating the duplication. Perhaps it can be commanded to do the opposite. To focus that amplification, to resolve the echo into a single entity.” It was a gamble, a direct manipulation of the artifact’s fundamental function, but the sight of the multiplying beasts was a potent argument. “Then that’s what we do,” Theron said, his voice firm. “You focus on the artifact, on resolving the duplication. I’ll hold them off, give you the time you need.” He drew his dagger, the polished metal catching the faint light of the Nexus. “Don’t let them break your concentration.” He didn’t wait for my confirmation, launching himself forward, his magic flaring. He moved with a fluid grace, his dagger a blur of motion, intercepting the first wave of shadow beasts. His movements were a dance of evasion and precision, each parry and thrust a desperate effort to buy me time. I could see his magic at work, a steady, shimmering defense that deflected the shadow creatures’ shadowy claws and snapping maws. I turned my attention to the artifact, its thrumming now a frantic symphony in my hand. The whispers, though gone, felt like a residual echo in my mind, urging different courses of action, playing on the very fears they had amplified earlier. But the immediate, tangible threat of the beasts held sway. “Focus,” I told myself, my voice barely a breath. I closed my eyes, picturing the two realities, the shimmering, doubled world around us. I visualized the energy of the artifact, not spreading, not amplifying, but converging. I imagined it like a powerful lens, drawing in the excess light of duality, collapsing it back into a single point. I thought of the obsidian-scaled beast that had first solidified, the one that had birthed its twin. I focused on that specific echo, on its dual nature. The artifact grew intensely hot against my palm. I could feel the immense power surging through it, a raw, untamed force. It resisted, as if the very concept of duality was an intrinsic part of its being, a fundamental law it was loath to break. But the Oracle had spoken of mending, of balance. This was a necessary step, a brutal demonstration of the artifact’s potential to alter the very fabric of this amplified existence. *“You cannot control it,”* a faint echo of a whisper seemed to brush against my thoughts, a phantom of the Oracle’s earlier pronouncements. *“It will consume you.”* “Shut up,” I muttered, my jaw clenched. Theron’s movements became more desperate, the amber glow of the beasts’ eyes growing brighter, their attacks more relentless. He was clearly struggling to hold them back. I needed to do this, and I needed to do it now. I channeled my will, my intent, into the artifact. I pictured the two beasts, identical and menacing, then I pictured them as one. I willed the duplication to cease, the echo to collapse. I imagined the threads of light that defined the doubled reality, pulling them taut, then snapping them back into a single, solid line. The shrine shuddered again, more violently this time. The light from the Nexus Point flared, not in a blinding flash, but in a concentrated beam that shot upwards, straight towards the swirling vortex of shadow. It was like a searing brand, burning through the illusion of duality. Theron grunted, stumbling back as one of the beasts’ shadowy claws raked across his arm, leaving a trail of searing cold. He was clearly taking hits, buying me precious seconds. And then, I saw it. A distortion, a localized ripple in the fabric of the duplicated world directly above the altar. The shadowy beasts, caught in this nascent wave of concentrated reality, began to writhe and blur. Their forms wavered, their mirrored existence destabilizing. The duplicate beasts flickered, their edges smearing into the originals, like watercolors running on damp paper. *“Yes!”* I thought, a surge of adrenaline coursing through me. It was working. I pushed harder, pouring every ounce of my will into the artifact, channeling the raw energy of the Nexus. The concentrated beam of light intensified, forcing the duality to buckle. The effect was dramatic, and terrifying. The shadow beasts, previously numbering in the dozens, began to converge. They were drawn towards the epicenter of the distortion, their duplicated forms merging, their ethereal energy solidifying into a single, gargantuan entity. It was a grotesque fusion, a monstrous amalgamation of shadows and teeth and eyes, its form constantly shifting as the remnants of its duplicated selves were forced into one terrifying whole. It was larger than any single beast we had faced before, a testament to the power of amplification now being used for its opposite. Theron scrambled back towards the altar, his face grim. “What have you done, Helena?” he breathed, though there was no accusation in his voice, only a stark recognition of the power I had unleashed. The behemoth roared, a sound that reverberated through my very soul, a cacophony of a hundred roars compressed into one. It lunged, its colossal form filling our vision. It was no longer a multitude of lesser threats, but a singular, overwhelming force. I stood my ground, my knuckles white on the artifact. The effort of collapsing the duality had drained me, leaving a tremor in my limbs, but the artifact’s power was still a constant hum within me. We had created this monster, this apex of amplified destruction. Now, we had to face it. Theron was beside me, his stance defensive, his eyes locked on the approaching behemoth. “We have to kill it,” he stated, his voice laced with grim resolve. “Now.” I nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath. The fight for mending had begun, and its first act was a reckoning with the very power we wielded. The Oracle’s words echoed again, not as whispers, but as a stark reality: "The lock is unforgiving."