Ashes That Speak

Pain slammed into Elara's mind like a hammer striking glass.

The arcane chains bound her at the wrists and ankles, their glow pulsing with crimson sigils etched in ancient script. Her knees scraped the stone floor. The room stank of sulfur and ash. The air tasted of burning metal and bitter secrets.

Across from her, the impostor her mirror with colder eyes watched with detached amusement.

"You didn't listen," the double said. "You came here hoping for answers. But this place only offers reminders."

Elara's teeth ground together as she strained against the chains. Her blood boiled with defiance. "Who are you really?"

"You," the impostor replied without hesitation. "The version of us that didn't die screaming."

Lysara, still bound in the air like a sacrificial lamb, moaned softly behind her gag. Her blonde hair clung to her tear-streaked cheeks. The magical restraints around her glowed violet now unstable.

"Let her go!" Elara shouted.

"She's not the one in danger," the impostor said with a chilling smile. "You are."

Without another word, she raised her hand and the floor lit up. Glyphs ignited beneath Elara, ancient symbols spiraling around her like a serpent of fire.

The world warped.

A flood of memories not hers smashed into her skull.

A child crying as flames consumed a library.

A soldier whispering the word "traitor" before dying.

A dagger coated in prophecy, plunging into a priestess's chest.

Kaelith sobbing beside a body wrapped in white.

A golden crown melting in someone's hands.

Elara screamed. The pressure in her head was unbearable. Her vision fractured into shards of lives that hadn't happened yet still felt like they belonged to her.

And then... silence.

She opened her eyes, breath ragged, sweat running down her face.

The chains were gone.

Seryth burst into the chamber, sword raised, cloak soaked from the tunnels. His eyes swept the room. "Elara!"

"I'm fine," she lied, unsteady as she stood. "But she - she was here."

He ran to Lysara and slashed through the magical restraints with a chant. The noble girl fell into his arms, coughing.

"I saw things," Elara whispered. "Things I never lived… but I remember them now."

Lysara's voice was weak. "She said… she took something from me. A memory seed."

Elara blinked. "What?"

"She said I had something planted in me. That when it bloomed, I'd remember what I was supposed to forget."

Seryth paled. "She's using Lysara like a vessel."

Elara touched her temple, still reeling. "And that vision it wasn't just my memories. Some of it was hers. Maybe... all of it was hers."

Seryth helped Lysara to her feet. "What did she want with this chamber?"

"To awaken the other half of me," Elara replied.

Seryth frowned. "There's more than one of you now?"

Elara didn't answer.

Because she didn't know.

Suddenly, the walls began to tremble. Cracks spiderwebbed across the ceiling, dust falling like ash from the stone.

"She set a failsafe," Seryth muttered. "This place is about to collapse."

Elara spotted a glimmer of light behind one of the wall mirrors. She sprinted forward and slammed her fist against it.

The mirror cracked, revealing a staircase spiraling upward.

"This way!"

They scrambled up the narrow escape route, Lysara stumbling with every step, her strength fading. The tunnel pulsed with an unnatural heartbeat, as if the magic in the walls was alive and angry.

Halfway up, Elara stopped.

A small scroll had been wedged between the stones.

She pulled it free.

On it was written a single phrase in sharp red ink:

"He never died."

Her hand trembled.

"Who?" Seryth asked.

Elara's voice caught in her throat. "My father. Aurelian Valeblume."

"But he's been dead for years," Lysara said, blinking hard.

Elara shook her head slowly. "That's what they wanted us to believe."

They climbed in silence.

When they reached the top, a door swung open into a hidden chamber above the west library. Books were scattered across the floor, and in the center stood a round, obsidian mirror pulsing faintly.

But the room wasn't empty.

A figure stood at the far end, tall and cloaked, silhouetted against the moonlight.

He turned.

Elara's breath stopped.

She knew that face.

He was older now lined with time, gray at the temples but those eyes… They had watched over her as a child. Taught her to wield fire as both weapon and warning.

"Father?" she choked.

He said nothing.

Just looked at her.

And then disappeared like smoke.

A projection.

Elara stepped forward, tears burning behind her eyes. "Why now? Why come back now?"

At her feet, the obsidian mirror glowed red.

From its surface, a voice emerged hollow, cracked by time.

"She's not who you think she is. Neither are you."

Elara fell to her knees, heart pounding.

Seryth knelt beside her. "What does that mean?"

She clutched the scroll tighter. "It means we've been playing someone else's game this whole time. The impostor, Kaelith, my mother… even the church. They're all just pieces."

Lysara whispered, "Then who's moving them?"

Elara looked up.

Her reflection in the black mirror blinked out of sync.

And smiled.