The bridge trembled beneath their feet, the stone slick with age and moisture. Sioux could feel the weight of the sigil’s influence pressing against them with every step, like a thousand unseen hands tugging at the fabric of their mind. They could almost hear their heartbeat in their ears, its rhythm distorted by the whispers that clawed at the edges of their thoughts. 

"Focus, Sioux," Caedric's voice was low, strained, but it cut through the fog in their mind. "This is the final test. The shard lies just ahead. You need only take it." 

But as they neared the shard, Sioux felt the temperature drop further, the cold seeping into their bones. The glow from the shard became blinding, pulsing with a hypnotic rhythm that made it almost impossible to look away. They could feel its power reaching out, a magnetic force that whispered promises of everything they’d ever desired—power, freedom, vengeance, and the truth about their past. 

And then, the illusions began. 

A voice, sweet and melodic, echoed in the darkness. 

"Sioux… Do you remember me?" 

They turned, heart pounding in their chest. Standing before them was a figure—a woman draped in flowing robes of deep red, her face partially obscured by a hood. Her presence radiated warmth, love, and something deeper—something familiar. 

"You’ve been searching for answers, haven’t you?" she continued, her voice like honey, soothing the sharp ache in Sioux's chest. "I can give them to you, if only you will listen." 

Sioux’s breath caught in their throat as they reached out, unsure of why their hand trembled. "Who… Who are you?" 

The figure lifted her hood, revealing a face they recognized but hadn’t seen in years—a face that should have been lost to them forever. 

It was their mother. 

"No…" Sioux whispered, their body frozen in place as they gazed into the warm eyes they’d longed to see again. "But… how?" 

The woman smiled, her lips curving gently. "I never left you. I’ve always been with you, guiding you, protecting you. The sigil remembers, Sioux. It remembers your pain, your loss. And it offers you a chance to undo it." 

"No," Sioux breathed again, backing away. "You’re not real. You can’t be." 

The figure’s smile didn’t falter. "I am as real as the pain you carry inside. The sigil knows your heart, your deepest desires. You can have me back, Sioux. You can make it right." 

Sioux’s hands shook at their sides, their mind warping between the years of grief and the vision before them. It was so easy to believe, to fall into the lie, to step forward and embrace what they had lost. 

But the weight of Caedric’s earlier words pulled them back from the brink. *It’s not real.* The sigil fed on weakness, on sorrow. If they gave in, they would be trapped—just like everyone else the sigil had claimed. 

"Sioux," the woman’s voice cooed softly, stretching out her hands. "Please. You’ve suffered long enough. Come to me, and all will be forgiven." 

It was tempting. God, how tempting. But Sioux’s heart pounded with a fierceness that seemed to tear through the veil of the illusion. "No!" they shouted, slapping their hands over their ears to block out her voice. "You’re not my mother! You’re just the sigil, trying to twist me!" 

The woman’s face twisted, her smile warping into something grotesque. Her features stretched, distorting until only a shadow of her remained, fading like a nightmare into the dark. The voice grew guttural, like something ancient and vile scraping the air. 

"Foolish mortal. You cannot resist what you crave." 

A surge of nausea hit Sioux as the illusion cracked like glass, shattering into a thousand fragmented reflections of themselves—each one a version of them consumed by different fears, regrets, desires. They saw themselves as a murderer, a monster, a broken soul condemned to the dark. The vision twisted their memories until they didn’t know who they were anymore. 

And then, the ground beneath them cracked. 

"Sioux!" Caedric’s voice cut through the chaos, pulling them back to the present. "Don’t look at it. The sigil is trying to tear you apart!" 

Sioux blinked, shaking their head violently to clear the images that still flickered in the corners of their vision. They gripped the railing of the bridge, their breath ragged. Caedric was right—they had to resist. But it was harder than anything they’d ever faced. 

Their eyes flicked to the shard again. It pulsed with an almost tender light, beckoning them, tempting them to reach out, to take it. But there was something else in its glow—something that made their gut twist. They could feel the power of the sigil thrumming, like an insatiable hunger, a siren call that promised everything and yet demanded everything in return. 

"Just take it," the voice whispered, now softer, more seductive. "With this, you can end the Masquerade. You can stop their pursuit. You can have it all, Sioux. Don’t you want to be free?" 

Sioux’s hands clenched into fists, their nails digging into their palms. "I will not be your pawn," they hissed, their words low and fierce. "I’m not giving in to you." 

Suddenly, a tremor shot through the air, shaking the chamber violently. The ground cracked open further, and the edges of the bridge splintered. The sigil’s pull grew stronger, its dark presence expanding outward, consuming everything in its path. The voice became a cacophony of cries and pleas, each one more desperate than the last. 

Caedric gripped Sioux’s arm, his voice firm as he pulled them back. "We have to go, now!" 

But Sioux’s gaze locked onto the shard. It was so close. Just a few more steps. One more reach. It was almost theirs. But the sigil’s call was louder now, and for a moment, Sioux faltered. The urge to give in was overwhelming. 

But then, they heard it. A whisper—not from the sigil, but from deep within themselves. 

"You are more than this." 

It was a simple thought, a quiet certainty. A reminder of their own strength. 

With a final, desperate effort, Sioux tore their eyes away from the shard. "I won’t be your sacrifice," they growled, ripping their hand from Caedric’s grip and stumbling backward. 

In the next instant, the chamber trembled, the illusions collapsing around them like a suffocating fog. The sigil screamed in fury, but Sioux’s resolve was stronger. They turned away from the shard. 

"Let’s go," Caedric urged, pulling them into motion. "Before it’s too late." 

The bridge shuddered, cracking under the pressure of the sigil’s rage, but they didn’t look back. Sioux and Caedric ran, the dark energy of the catacombs collapsing behind them. 

The journey was far from over—but Sioux had made their choice. And that was enough for now.