Page 23 of Favored By the Stars

I continued, drawing strength from the admission. "My mistakes don't define me. My fears don't control me. They're part of me, yes, just as you are."

I reached out, not for my sword, but toward the shadow itself. "I don't need to destroy you. I need to accept you."

The shadow recoiled, but I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the burning pain in my side. "You are my doubt, my fear, my guilt. And I embrace you, because without you, I wouldn't strive to be better."

As I stepped forward, arms outstretched, the shadow's form began to waver. Its blade dissolved into wisps of darkness. I pressed my advantage, not with violence but with acceptance.

"You are not my enemy," I said, my voice growing stronger. "You are the part of me that pushes me to protect those I love more fiercely, to fight harder, to never give up."

The shadow trembled, its outline blurring, shimmering, like dark water disturbed by a stone, then reshaped itself. The malevolent eyes softened, the twisted sneer transforming into a familiar, stern expression. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the face forming before me, my father.

Not as I had last seen him, proud and distant on his deathbed, but as he had been in my youth: strong, unbending, with eyes that could cut through excuses like a blade through silk.

"Father?" I whispered, my voice suddenly that of a boy again.

He stood before me, not as a shadow construct but as a memory made flesh, wearing the ceremonial armor of the Sun Court's Captain of the Guard. The position I had inherited. The legacy I had always feared I couldn't uphold.

"You were never supposed to be a warrior, Thorn," he said, his voice exactly as I remembered, deep, resonant, uncompromising. "You were too soft, too hesitant. I tried to forge that weakness out of you."

The words were familiar, echoes of a hundred training sessions where my best had never been enough, where every victory was met with criticism of what could have been done better.

"I wasn't weak," I said, finding my voice again. "I was compassionate. There's a difference."

My father's image circled me slowly, his gaze appraising. "Compassion gets warriors killed. It gets those they're meant to protect killed."

"No," I countered, straightening despite the pain in my side. "Compassion is why we fight at all. Without it, we're just killers."

The specter of my father paused, his expression unreadable. "You never understood what it means to bear the responsibility of protection. The sacrifices required."

Understanding dawned on me then, this wasn't just my father. This was the embodiment of every expectation I'd internalized, every standard I'd tortured myself trying to meet.

"I understand sacrifice better than you think," I said quietly. "But I refuse to sacrifice who I am to become what you wanted me to be."

For a moment, something like pride flickered across my father's face, an expression I had rarely seen in life. "Perhaps... perhaps I was wrong about some things."

The admission, even from this manifestation, sent a shock through me. My father, the real one, had never admitted to being wrong about anything.

"Your softness..." he continued, his form beginning to fade at the edges, "perhaps it is not weakness after all, but a different kind of strength."

I stepped forward, reaching out to him even as he began to dissolve. "I've spent my life trying to be you. To make you proud."

"No," he said, his voice growing distant. "You've spent your life trying not to be me. And in that, at least, you have succeeded."

I staggered backward, breathless. The weight of my father's words pressed down on me, heavy yet liberating. His form had vanished, but the truth lingered like the fading echoes of his voice. I was not a failure; I was not the shadow he had forged me to be.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the grove, sending leaves spiraling in a chaotic dance around me. The air crackled with energy, reminding me that I wasn't alone in this fight. Senara's spirit burned brightly in my mind, her unwavering courage anchoring me against the swirling doubts.

"Thorn!" A voice broke through the haze of my thoughts. It was Kaelyn, her expression sharp with urgency as she appeared at the edge of the clearing.

"Where is Senara?" Panic surged through me as I scanned our surroundings. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing a growing sense of dread.

Kaelyn's brow furrowed as she stepped closer, eyes darting around us. "She's still in the trials, she has to face them alone."

"Alone?" My voice rose with disbelief. "She can't do this by herself! We should be there with her!"

"You have to trust her," Kaelyn replied firmly. "She's stronger than you realize."

I shook my head, frustration boiling over. "Stronger? Maybe. But what if she falters? What if?—"

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