A sudden, agonized cry tore from his throat as Rui drove the Sword of Mercy into his abdomen.
Pink-gold energy coursed through the blade, casting shocked light across the false Jin's face.
"But you would never ask me to abandon my path." She stepped back, shoulders straightening.
"The real Jin died so I could continue."
Tears streamed down her face, but her grip on the sword remained steady. The apparition's form flickered, its features contorting with pain and disbelief.
The false Jin's form began to dissolve, crumbling like ash in a breeze.
Rui stood as the fake Jin disappeared from his arms, the familiar feeling crashing over her again—that hollow ache of loss, the weight of absence.
She picked up the Sword of Mercy and pointed it towards the Hollow Dove.
The Hollow Dove's form shimmered, its pristine white feathers darkening to obsidian as it grew.
