85: The Imposter

A muffled, soft rhythmic banging echoed down the cold and forgotten corridors of the castle. Distant, its mighty sound resembled a heartbeat covered with layers of stone and time. Somewhere deep in the forbidden wing, centuries of secrets and fears hidden behind a gilded box pulsing with dark energy; the real Elara hammered her fists against the smooth infernal glass of the mirror.

She gasped with every blow against the flat surface, the golden frame around it glowing ominously within the dim illumination of the wavering torches. "Let me out!" she yelled; hardly more than a whisper beyond her prison. "Someone, please! Help me!"

Silence.

Nobody was coming.

She tried again, a fresh surge of power running through her; her hands shaking with the effort as she tried to force the magic through her veins. Nothing happened.

Panic-laced her chest; she tried once more. And again. Nothing.

A terrible realization blanketed her like a heavy mist: her magic could not survive here.

This place, this realm, had stripped her of everything.

And then the air within the mirror shifted.

A gust blew into the chamber, but there was no external breeze. A whispering presence curled around her as if in predation, sending a chill down her spine. The shadows from the far corners of the mirror stretched and twisted into a form.Her form.

A figure stepped forth from the depths of the glass.

Elara held her breath.

The woman standing before her was cuttingly identical in every way: same emerald-green eyes, same dark cascading hair, same regal poise. But something else had been added. Something wrong.

The counterpart of Elara smirked, tilting her head. "Now, hush," she cooed softly, a whisper soft and sarcastic. "No one will hear you, however much you may scream."

Elara's heart drummed against her ribs. "Who are you? Why are you doing this? Why do you look like me?"

The doppelgänger turned back to her, laughing at slow, eerie intervals that echoed unnaturally in the mirror realm, taking another step forward, eyes gleaming with something dark and ancient. "Oh, my dear, curious little queen," she murmured. "You should have listened to your own warnings."

Elara stiffened.

Spread before her was the other Elara. "Tell me, Elara, do you know why this part of the kingdom has always been forbidden? Why no one dares to venture here?"

Gripping her fists, Elara forced herself not to yield to the fear crawling through her. "Because it is cursed," she stated firmly. "A place of dark magic."

The fake Elara smiled all the more savagely. "Cursed, indeed." She absentmindedly trailed her fingertips along the mirror's surface, watching it ripple like water beneath her touch. "This wing was sealed off decades ago. Because they trapped me here."

Elara's stomach twisted. "Who are they?"

The impostress's gaze darkened, cool and sharp. "The ones who feared me. The ones who couldn't stop me. They thought locking me up in this forsaken place would free them from a nightmare." She chuckled again, eyes sparkling. "But you, my dear queen, were too eager to discover. You came looking. And you opened the chest."

Elara's breath caught. The chest...

She leaned forward, with her face almost touching Elara's, separated by a thin layer of the mirror. "Do you know why it could only be opened by the strongest?" she whispered. "Because only the strongest make the finest prey."

An icy wave swept through Elara.

The fake Elara straightened, her voice now singsong laced with mockery. "You see, my sweet queen, I don't just exist in the mirror." She traced her finger over her own reflection, delighted to see the golden frame shimmer. "I feed on it."

Elara swallowed, hard. "Feed?"

A wicked grin stretched across the impostor's face. "Oh yes. That is how I gain my power." She tilted her head. "You looked into the mirror, didn't you?"

Elara didn't answer. She didn't have to.

The grin became wider. "And what did you see, Elara? Tell me-what was in your heart? Was it curiosity? Power? Fear?" She took a step closer, pressing her palm against the glass. "That's how it begins. The very moment they look in the mirror, they see that which has been buried in their minds, in their souls. And the more they stare, the further they sink."

Elara's stomach twisted. "That's how you trapped me."

The fake Elara sighed conspicuously. "You make it sound so cruel." She had trailed a hand down the golden frame. "But yes, little queen, that's how I take everything." Her face darkened, voice dropping almost to a growl. "That's how I steal what was denied to me."

Elara was breathing fast, shallow.

The impostress ducked in close. "You should thank me, you know. After all these years, I finally have a body again." She stretched, admiring herself. "And not just any body—yours."

Elara's hands trembled. "You won't get away with this."

Oh, but I already have," the impostor replied, softly and with amusement.

Elara gritted her teeth. "The kingdom will know. They will see through you."

The fake Elara laughed softly. "Will they?" She twirled a lock of her dark hair around her finger. "You've underestimated me. I've had decades to perfect this." Leaning closer, her smile curled like smoke. "They will love me."

Elara's heart pounded. "They will notice something is wrong."

The imposter let out a mock sigh. "Oh, Elara, you still think too highly of them. They won’t question what they don’t want to see." Her voice dropped into an ominous whisper. "And even if they do, by the time they realize the truth…" She tapped a finger on the mirror, and it pulsed with a strange golden light. "It will be far too late."

Elara clenched her fists, placing her forehead against the glass. "I will stop you."

The imposter smirked. “Brave words for a caged bird.”

Elara’s pulse roared in her ears as dread pooled in her chest.

She was trapped.

The fake Elara had won.