The damp chill of the dungeon clung to her skin, the darkness pressing in like a living thing. The only light came from the flickering torch outside her cell, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Elira sat in the corner, her knees drawn to her chest, her once-pristine gown now a tattered reminder of her former life.
She shivered, but not from the cold. The air was heavy, laden with whispers only she could hear. They echoed faintly in her mind, like distant murmurs of a forgotten past.
"You don't belong here," the voice came again, soft yet unyielding, her own voice but not her own.
Elira didn't flinch. She was used to it now. This… other self, this shadow of her being, had been her only companion in the months of captivity. The first time it appeared, she thought she was losing her mind. Now, she clung to it like a lifeline.
"You're stronger than this," the shadow whispered, materializing in the dim light. It looked just like her, down to the scar on her wrist, yet its eyes burned with an intensity Elira couldn't muster. Their both eyes would turn pitch black.
"Stronger?" Elira's voice cracked as she spoke. "Do you see where I am? They threw me away like a broken thing."
"And yet you endure," the shadow replied, stepping closer. "They fear you, your family, all of them! they are all wary of you and has finally decided to abandon you."
The words struck a chord she didn't want to acknowledge. She buried her face in her hands, her fingers trembling, she knew something like this was going to happen sooner or later and she had wished she was wrong. Somewhere above her, the sound of footsteps echoed. The guards were changing shifts. Another day, another night—she'd long since stopped keeping track.
But tonight felt different. The air seemed to hum with an energy she couldn't place. And her other self smiled as she knew she was getting to her.