Chapter 148: The Shadow With My Face

Ivy’s POV

The forest was alive.

But not with birdsong. Not with rustling leaves or moonlight.

No—this forest breathed shadows.

Thick. Suffocating. Alive.

They slithered behind me, circling like wolves in the dark, whispering my name in voices I didn’t recognize. Every time I turned to look, they vanished—slipping behind the trees like smoke.

I ran.

Barefoot. Branches slicing across my skin, my lungs burning. The ground was wet and uneven, pulling at my feet, like it didn’t want to let me go.

Pain bloomed in my neck—sharp and electric. I stumbled with a cry I couldn’t hear.

Then it vanished.

But before I could catch my breath, another pain—hotter, crueler—shot through my ribs, knocking me down. My cheek slammed against the cold earth.

I tried to get up.

I couldn’t.

The shadows closed in.

Invisible hands gripped my arms, my throat, dragging me backward into the brush as I screamed—silently. My voice wouldn’t come.

That’s when I saw her.

Me.

Standing in the clearing ahead.

Same face. Same hair. Same terrified eyes—except hers were full of hate.

She stepped forward, lips curling into a twisted smile.

“You should’ve stayed dead,” she whispered.

The voice was mine.

But colder. Sharper. Like it had been sharpened on a blade of hatred.

I froze.

She tilted her head, studying me like a predator might study prey just before the pounce.

Her lips curved into a crooked, gleaming smile.

“I’m the better one.”

My heart pounded. My legs screamed to run, but I couldn’t. I could only stare—frozen and wide-eyed as she took a step forward, then another, each one deliberate. Each one dripping with something cold and cruel and ancient.

“I’m the version who was supposed to live.”

My foot slid back instinctively.

A rustle behind me. Shadows hissed at the edges of the trees. Her voice coiled around my spine like a serpent.

“You’re nothing.”

“You don’t belong in our world.”

“You’re a mistake.”

I flinched.

Her eyes narrowed, glinting pitch-black in the moonlight. The same shade I’d seen in my worst moments. My worst memories.

“You’re a murderer.”

My lungs burned.

“You killed him.”

My legs wobbled.

“You’ll always be that girl, no matter how many new names they give you.”

I took another step back, barely breathing. My fingers brushed against a root, anchoring me to this nightmare, grounding me to the only truth I could feel.

But she kept coming.

“Don’t look so surprised. I’m just telling you what you already know.”

Tears stung the corners of my eyes. Not from sadness—no. From rage. From shame. From something worse than fear.

“You wear their love like stolen skin. But underneath?” She stopped walking, now inches from me.

“You're still a murderer.”

And then she lunged.

I didn’t scream—couldn’t. The air ripped from my lungs as her hands slammed into my shoulders, sending me tumbling backwards with dizzying speed.

The ground disappeared.

I was falling.

The forest spun, stars blurring into streaks of light as the world shattered beneath me. Wind howled in my ears. Her face—my face—loomed above me as I plummeted.

Endless. Cold. Eternal.

And just as the darkness opened its mouth to swallow me—

I jolted awake.

Panting. Soaked in sweat.

My heart beat like war drums in my chest.

I blinked into the dark room, trying to ground myself. It took a full minute before I realized I was in my bed. Safe. Sort of.

My fingers fumbled toward the nightstand. I grabbed the glass of water Rosa always left there and downed half of it in one breath.

But the shaking didn’t stop.

I turned toward the small shelf near the window and reached for a book. The only thing that could slow my mind down enough to breathe.

I flipped the lamp on. Its golden glow bathed the cover in warmth.

“The Kingdom of Soft Stars.”

A children’s fairytale. Sweet. Magical.

It was about a young girl named Elara who could speak to the stars. But the stars only whispered at night—and only if you were brave enough to be alone in the dark.

I’d picked it up when Rosa took me shopping weeks ago. I wasn’t even looking for a book, but it was there. Blue cover, silver letters, soft pages. Like it had been waiting for me.

I sank back into the pillows, curling under the blanket, trying to let the words wash the fear away.

But it lingered.

Just beneath the surface.

Because the memories weren’t gone.

They were just buried.

Every time I tried to remember—really remember—I blacked out.

Like that first day in the hospital.

I could’ve sworn I saw someone—boots stepping into the hospital room—but before I could blink again, I was gone. Out cold.

When I woke up, my father said no one came in. That I’d imagined it.

Maybe I had.

But the dreams haven’t stopped since.

My doctor told me to start writing them down. He said they could be pieces. Clues. That maybe what I saw in them wasn’t fiction.

But how do I explain this?

That sometimes in the dream... I’m trying to kill myself.

Or is it someone who looks like me?

A twin?

When I asked my father, he didn’t answer. He just told me to rest. To get stronger.

I shook off the thoughts and forced my eyes back to the book.

Elara had just followed a starlit path into the clouds, looking for the Moon Weaver who guarded lost wishes. The chapter ended with her dangling over the edge of the world, holding on by a thread of starlight.

Minutes later, I must have drifted off again.

The breeze was perfect.

Soft. Warm. Sweet with jasmine and rain.

There was music too—low and romantic, like something out of a dream.

The man sat across from me. Elegant. Gentle. His voice like velvet.

I felt safe.

I shouldn’t have.

His face—it was almost beautiful. Until you really looked.

Dark veins crawled under his skin like shadows, as if his entire face had shattered and barely stitched itself back together. His smile was calm, but his eyes...

They were hollow. Hungry.

Still, I didn’t run.

I should’ve.

We danced. Slowly. The way people do when they’re falling in love.

And then—his hand slipped behind my neck.

Firm. Cold.

I gasped, trying to step back.

He didn’t let go.

His lips curved, and before I could scream, his fangs sank deep into my skin.

White-hot pain exploded through me.

I clawed at him—tried to tear away—but he only held tighter, drinking in whatever life I had left.

The same end.

Every night.

I woke up again. Choking.

Gasping.

My hand flew to my neck.

No holes.

No blood.

Just morning sunlight leaking through the curtains, spilling golden streaks across the sheets.

I sat up. Looked at the clock.

10:47 a.m.

Did I just miss them?

My father and Uncle Marcus had an important acquisition meeting. They told me last night.

I scrambled out of bed and cleaned myself up quickly, but I was still in my soft nightdress and pink “Pookie Bear” slippers—Rosa had insisted on buying them.

I ran out of the room, almost crashing into a startled servant balancing folded blankets.

I waved my hand to apologize, then raced for the door, notebook and pen in hand.

Too late.

Their car just pulled out of the gate.

I caught a faint glimpse before it vanished behind the stone walls.

I turned back inside, found a maid and scribbled:

“Where is Rosa?”

The maid glanced at the paper and smiled. “They all left for the day, miss. Rosa too. Had something important to take care of. She’ll be back soon.”

I sighed.

So I was alone.

Well—not alone. Just surrounded by strangers in pressed uniforms and polite smiles.

With nothing to do, I padded into the living room and curled into the couch.

The TV blinked to life.

Cartoons. Comedy. I stopped at a simple, quiet movie—an animated one about a lonely dragon who builds a bakery to make friends.

It was sweet. Gentle.

A maid entered, looking hesitant. She placed a small tray in front of me: a croissant, sliced apple, and a warm cup of cocoa with cinnamon dusted on top.

I nodded my thanks and dug in slowly, eyes flickering to the screen.

The dragon had just baked his first batch of star-shaped cookies when—

Rustle.

I froze.

The sound came from behind me.