95 - The True Queen

95 - The True Queen
There it was, a mirrorverse of infinite reflections, a disorderly maze in which reality folded back upon itself. The Shadow Mage had wandered there for what seemed like eternity: a sound of footsteps echoed against some invisible surface while his own distorted reflections flickered in the fringe of his consciousness. Answers lie in this bizarre dimension, drawn by some unknown influence whose whispers echoed secrets in the dark.
The mantle flowed behind him, and his shadow beasts slunk beside him, their crimson gazes sweeping across the ever-shifting space. Here, the laws of the physical world did not apply: gravity was capricious, the horizon cruelly stretched and curled into impossible angles, and the river of time seemed reluctant to flow. The very air felt thick with some unseen, very primordial thing.
Then, he heard it—a faint sound nearly swallowed up by the weight of silence.
A wail.
Not the mourn of some lost soul, not the screech of an unremembered beast, but unmistakably that of a woman sobbing.
Suddenly, he hurried. Passing by endless reflections of himself, his own image twisted and distorted along the treacherous surfaces, darkness took form in that shimmering, distorted setting. The sound grew louder, more raw and sorrowful; he turned the corner, barely comprehensible in this void, and there she was.
The woman.
Curled against the luminous wall, she had drawn her knees to her chest, and her black hair hung down in matted waves over her shoulders. The gown was crimson, its material tattered and torn, stained with something that shimmered in a way between blood and shadow. Her face was buried in her hands, with her shoulders trembling and shaking with each sob.
Elara.
But it was not the Elara he knew.
The Shadow Mage went still, hands moving instinctively to call forth his shadow beasts, which appeared immediately, dark and monstrous, shifting and swirling bodies of darkness coiling about themselves like living smoke. They snarled and growled with guttural sounds as their hungry eyes fixed onto the woman.
But she remained unperturbed.
Did she not call upon fire or steel? Did she not raise her head in defiance?
She slumped further into herself, trembling as if her world had already been shattered by the knowledge that he was there.
He hesitated.
This was not the cruel queen who had claimed the kingdoms for herself. This was not the woman who had slaughtered kings and made rulers bend to her will with a mere command.
This woman was terrified.
Carefully, slowly, he disengaged his beasts, allowing them to fade into the shadow. Then he took a step forward.
"Who are you?" His voice was calm, but there was an occasional an undertone of doubt that left no respite.
She turned her head up.
And he saw her face.
Her green eyes were streaming with tears, her face lined with fatigue and anguish. But even more than this—something else was in her eyes. Something raw. Something real.
"I am Elara," she whispered. "The true queen."
The words came hard upon him, more than he had expected.
His brows knitted and his body tensed. "What do you mean?"
A sharp inhalation from the woman. She wiped at her tears, but it barely concealed her broken state. "The one you serve... the one who rules the kingdoms now... she is not me."
His narrowed eyes. "No. That's impossible."
"No," she declared, voice now agitated, desperate. "I was betrayed. Taken. Imprisoned in this cursed place while she took my throne, my name, my life." Her fingers clenched into the fabric of her tattered gown, knuckles turning white. "I've been stuck here, watching from the shadows as she wears my face, while she destroys everything I ever fought for."
The Shadow Mage remained silent.
It made no sense.
Elara was ruthless, sure, but she had always been the one in control. She had orchestrated her rule with precision, eliminating anyone who stood in her path. The very idea that any sort of replacement of her could be... Impossible.
Unless...
He was flickering back to those moments he had long since attempted to ignore. Moments that felt off, out of place.
The way in which she had begun to change.
The way her decision-making had begun to falter, the sharpeness of her cruelty had increased, and the ferocity of her victories had grown.
The way she had sometimes looked at him, as if she did not completely recognize him.
Doubt poured into his thoughts like a slow poison.
Still, he was cautious in trusting.
"Prove it," he said.
The woman, the supposed true Elara, did not waver in holding his inevitable gaze. "You've served me for years. You knew me before all of this. You know I would never be so careless, so reckless." She swallowed hard. "I trusted you. And I need you to trust me now."
The words bore down on him.
Because deep inside, there was a part of him that already knew she was speaking the truth.
But this truth was dangerous.
And if she was telling the truth, then the imposter-whosoever she was, had already won.
"What if this is a trick?" he asked, sharper now. "What if this is just some illusion?"
Assuming she truly was Elara, she grasped his wrist tightly with unexpected strength. Warm warmth, real warmth. Not that phantom caress of an illusion made by magic.
"You don't," she said. "But if you leave me here, you'll never know. And she will keep ruling in my place, unchecked." Her grip tightened. "You are the only one who can get me out of here. And if you don't, everything we've built will crumble."
The Shadow Mage took in a long breath.
Every instinct owed him caution.
Yet his heart, his memories, said otherwise.
He had always considered himself the epitome of reason and strategy. And yet standing here looking at her...
For the first time in forever, he felt this strange urge that he was gazing upon the real Elara.
The Elara he had once pledged to protect.
He ripped out of her hold and offered her his hand once again.
"Then let's get you out of here."
Elara inhaled shakily, staring wide-eyed for an instant as something indecipherable crossed her face—relief, gratitude, or maybe something else.
Then she took his hand, and together, they stepped into the darkness, ready to take back what was stolen.