Arn reached out and touched the mirror. It was not solid, and gave way to his hand.
A door disguised as a mirror, he thought. Figures.
As their prey already had a sizeable head start on them, Arn did not wait around to talk it over with his companions, but stepped through the mirror without a second thought.
As soon as he passed through, he realised that the mirror was more than just a concealed door. The mirrages were still there, although they now looked quite different from their real counterparts – they were shrouded in shadow.
They were also not mere images, Arn realised as they suddenly stopped mirroring the actions of their counterparts, and turned to face Arn.
Without a word, they attacked him.
Arn ducked under another sword swing. He spun as he rose back up, reaching over his shoulder with his gladius to block the next attack, and simultaneously thrust his longsword into the throat of the paralysed form of shadow-skorva. The shadow twitched for a moment, and crumbled.
Despite being in mortal danger, Arn found himself enjoying the battle immensely. Over their time spent together, Arn had built up no small amount of resentment towards each of them – most of it over minor annoyances, but also things like being all but forced to aid the weakling Empire, and to give up the Mace of Molag Bal.
Despite his grudges and frustrations though, these people were the closest Arn had ever had to friends, which was why he did abide by their judgements in spite of his growing inner rage.
This fight was therefore the perfect solution. The beings he killed were not his friends: They were similar enough to them that attacking them felt like attacking the real deal, and yet they were different enough that Arn did not feel bad about it.
One by one the shadows fell, until only one remained standing – as luck would have it, it was the one he hated the most. This bastard had had it out for him from day one, undermining him, mocking him. Sometimes it even felt like he was actively trying to get Arn killed.
By Talos, I love therapy. I’m going to enjoy this far more than I should, you wretched son of a Khajiit Arn thought to himself, as he turned to face the shadow clone of himself.