Chapter 52 The Clone's Victory

Chapter 52 The Clone's Victory
Aurelia

“If only the Alpha was here to witness this joke,” Mirvina drawled, shoving to her feet so fast her chair scraped like a blade across stone. “We have to deal with two of her now?”

The scout’s gaze bounced between me and the other me, the one standing silent at the far end of the table, watching everything with my own eyes.

Why weren't they panicking? The moment I saw her I immediately wanted to go into defensive mode, but it looked like they were scared.

“How do we even know which one is the real Luna?” he asked, his throat bobbing up and down.

Mirvina snorted. “Easy peasy. I hear the Goddess's marks are on her breasts. We could just ask them to show us their tattoos. Whichever one doesn't have it is the fake Luna.” 

I clenched my fists, my cheeks flushing red with anger. “How can you suggest that? I showed up for breakfast like I always do. She just… appeared from nowhere. It's obvious who the real Luna is between us.”

One of Mirvina’s minions leaned in, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear. “Left for me, I’d go with her.” She jerked her chin toward my clone. “That one hasn’t said a word yet, but this one’s been yapping nonstop.”

Seriously? Just because I’d finally stopped swallowing their venom and started spitting it back, just because I refused to sit quietly while they tore me apart, they thought I was the fake?

The clone tilted her head, calm as still water.

“We don’t have to argue about this,” she said in a voice that sounded exactly like mine, soft, measured, and infuriatingly steady. “I’m the real Luna.”

The room went dead quiet. I felt every stare like a brand on my skin.

“Strip.”

Mirvina’s voice sliced through the room, cold and commanding, like she was issuing an order to a servant.

My blood roared in my ears.

For the first time in my life I heard the sound come out of my own throat, a low, involuntary growl that vibrated deep in my chest.

“How dare you?” The words scraped out raw, trembling with fury I hadn’t known I could feel so sharply.

My clone stepped forward, calm as moonlight on still water.

“Why is that so hard?” she asked, voice soft, perfectly pitched to match mine, infuriatingly reasonable.

I blinked, my pulse crashing like waves against stone.

“You’re an imposter,” I said, the accusation steady even though my hands shook. “You got in just like Lila, didn’t you? Wearing my skin, copying my voice. You’re a fake.”

“Let’s watch them fight.” Ravina’s voice drifted from behind me, smooth and amused, like this was entertainment for her.

I spun. She’d been watching the whole time, her arms folded, lips curved in quiet satisfaction.

“I’m ever ready,” the clone said, tapping one foot with deliberate patience. “When she’s done panicking.”

The scout blanched, color draining from his face.
He knew what would happen if Zhayad ever learned of this.

A fight wasn’t the way to prove who was real, but he was only a scout. He couldn’t speak up. Not with Mirvina and Ravina's voice the loudest in the room. 

“You two will fight it out,” Ravina declared, raising her voice so every shifter crowding the stairs could hear. “And we’ll decide which of you witches is the Luna.”

By now the stairwell was packed, shifters who lived in the pack-house pressing shoulder to shoulder, hungry for any distraction from the war pressing at our gates.

Their eyes gleamed with that naked hunger. 

I forced my spine straight, realising that this was a scenario that would likely ruin the fragile bond between Zhayad and I.

“I refuse to choose violence when there are several peaceful ways to prove the truth.” I made sure to keep my voice steady.

Ravina’s smile turned razor-thin. It could have cut through cloth.

“Then you will both undress and show us the truth.”

A ripple of shocked laughter and murmurs swept through the crowd.

“Nice to know you’re all a bunch of perverts,” I said, my voice low but carrying. “I will do no such thing.”

Ravina’s eyes flashed, the fury in them barely leashed.

“My daughter is currently undergoing torture,” she hissed, stepping closer, “and we have one of your kind right under our nose, but you refuse to do the needful?”

The room tightened, the air swollen and thick with anticipation, with hate, with the promise of blood. Irina's situation? Ravina had made sure to sell the idea that it was my fault she was traded in place of the pack's beloved OnyxFang.

“How disappointed you must be,” I said slowly, tasting every word before letting it fall, “that after everything you did to destroy me… your daughter is the one paying the price.”

I watched the words hit Ravina harder than a slap ever could. Her lips tightened, but the flicker in her eyes told me I’d struck something real.

“We need to get rid of the fake Luna before she attacks us,” Mirvina announced, turning fully toward me like a judge ready to pass a sentence.

The air shifted.

“Since you refuse to strip and prove you're the real Luna,” Ravina continued, her voice sharp as glass, “you will be placed in isolation immediately.”

“Yes,” the clone echoed sweetly, like a loyal pet repeating its master. “She must go into isolation.”

My mouth parted in disbelief.

“You’re the one who should be in isolation,” I shot back, the anger burning hot in my chest.

They didn’t argue. They moved. Bodies closed in from every direction, a tightening circle of distrust and quiet hostility. Heels scraped against the tiles, and fabric rustled. 

Even the clone stepped forward, her expression carved into that infuriating calm.

“I cannot allow you to enter this pack and sow discord,” she said gently, like she was offering comfort instead of exile. “You must be uprooted.”

Instinctively, I reached for Zhayad through the bond, but met nothing instead. No warmth. No presence. No reassurance, either.

I was met with a cold, impenetrable wall. He’d shut me out. The realization hit harder than their accusations ever could.

“I’m warning you,” I breathed, my voice trembling between fear and fury, “stay back.”

But they didn’t listen. They never did. Voices overlapped. Accusations tangled, and their hands lifted like they were ready to grab me at any second.

So I stopped trying to reason. I closed my eyes.
And instead of merely reaching for my magic… I moved it.

I let it surge. It poured out of me in wild, unstoppable torrents, silver, electric, and alive. 

The pressure built until it hummed beneath my skin, until even breathing felt like holding lightning in my lungs.

Then I opened my eyes. Bodies littered the ground. One by one. All of them. They were asleep.

Everyone except the clone. 

As if things couldn't complicate itself any further, I heard the heavy pound of boots coming from outside, whistles and howls filling the air.

Zhayad was back.

The clone dusted invisible dust off her dress and slouched her figure, as if she was tired.

It took me two expensive minutes to figure out what had happened.

She ran her fingers through her hair, then moved quickly to the other side of the door, clutching her chest.

“Aurelia! What is the matter?” Zhayad asked as soon as he came in. He was yet to notice me, and before I could open my mouth to speak, she lifted her hand and pointed at me.

Zhayad traced the finger with his eyes.

“There's a clone of me, and she already took down all of those who came down to intervene.” She lied, her voice cracking at the end.

Zhayad's eyes darted around the room, and I knew the moment darkness seeped out of him, the moment when his control snapped, seeing his pack members littered on the floor like trash.