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11. Two Selves

  The Sattira were already deployed.

  Every alley, corner, and shadow was being searched.

  But the Vyshek was gone.

  And so was Dyn’s usual charm.

  Her failure sat like a heavy weight in the room.

  She stood before Medisa, her posture stiff.

  She wasn’t alone.

  In the room sat—

  


      
  • Wigor Meshis – arms crossed, frustration in her sharp eyes.


  •   
  • Wigor Osumi – deep in thought, hands resting on the table.


  •   
  • Adych Barem – staring at Dyn with an unreadable expression.


  •   
  • Librarian Cami – coughing, her wrinkled hands gripping her chair.


  •   
  • Two other academy officials – present, but silent.


  •   


  And then—

  The first words were spoken.

  Cami (coughing, her voice laced with concern): "The Book of Shrishgic is gone. Do you even know how dangerous it is in the wrong hands?"

  Dyn (clenching her jaw, muttering): "I know. Okay?"

  Meshis (snapping, her voice sharp like a blade): "Oh, wow. So you know the deal? THEN GO AND BRING IT BACK!"

  Her shout echoed in the room.

  But Dyn didn’t flinch.

  She exhaled sharply.

  Dyn (gritted teeth, voice even): "My team is on it already. We’re looking."

  Osumi (leaning forward, voice cool but firm): "First the Book of Kardloh. Now the Book of Shrishgic. The same fairy. The same Vyshek."

  The weight of those words hung in the air.

  Cami coughed again, gripping the table.

  Cami (weak but pointed): "You…(coughs)…you all should thank me that I transferred HoldForth here. Otherwise… (coughs hard)…"

  Barem (crossing her arms, unimpressed): "And what’s the difference? It still got compromised."

  A sharp silence.

  Then—

  Barem (scoffing slightly, muttering): "I don’t think we’re getting many admissions next cycle. Two murders. A Vyshek roaming free. This is too much."

  Meshis turned her fury back to Dyn.

  Meshis (accusing, stepping forward): "Dyn! You said she’s from inside the school."

  Dyn (folding her arms, uninterested): "So? What?"

  Meshis (challenging, pressing on): "Then deploy your fairies to search every room. Every corner."

  Dyn rolled her eyes.

  Dyn (deadpan): "And what do you think is happening right now in the campus?"

  The tension peaked.

  Until—

  Medisa stood up.

  Her presence alone was enough to silence the room.

  Medisa (calm, firm, final): "Enough."

  A pause.

  All eyes turned to her.

  Medisa’s expression was cold, unreadable.

  Then—she spoke.

  Medisa (level, pointed): "Did you see her face?"

  Dyn (exhaling, frustrated): "No. She was smart. Stealthy."

  Medisa nodded slowly.

  Then—

  She delivered the final blow.

  Medisa (calm, but threatening): "Then I’m calling Arcaneaum’s Sattira to handle this if Mirgeth’s can’t."

  A sharp silence.

  Dyn stiffened.

  No.

  She couldn’t lose this.

  Letting Arcaneaum’s Sattira take over would be a permanent stain on her career.

  She had to keep control.

  Dyn (quickly, serious now): "No. I can do this. Give me two days."

  Medisa didn’t blink.

  Medisa (flatly): "One."

  A pause.

  Dyn exhaled sharply.

  Dyn (through gritted teeth): "Fine."

  She turned on her heels and stormed out.

  As the door closed behind her, Cami let out a heavy sigh.

  She coughed again, then spoke.

  Cami (grumbling, tiredly): "She can’t do this. You know that."

  Medisa didn’t disagree.

  Instead—she simply stated the cold truth.

  Medisa (calm, matter-of-fact): "I know. But if she can bring the Vyshek out… she can catch her too."

  A pause.

  Then—

  The meeting ended.

  And outside—Dyn clenched her fists.

  Because now—she had one day.

  And she was going to find the Vyshek.

  No matter what.

  Dyn sat alone in the canteen, her breakfast untouched.

  A cup of Vahi in one hand, a plate of Tald in front of her.

  But she wasn’t eating.

  Her fingers gripped the warm cup tightly, but her eyes—

  Her eyes were lost.

  She was staring into the center of the Vahi, her mind replaying the battle over and over.

  Every movement.

  Every strike.

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  Every arcane blast.

  Trying to find a pattern.

  Trying to find her.

  Dyn (to herself, her grip tightening): "Who could she be? Who…? Think, Dyn. Think."

  She closed her eyes for a second, forcing herself to remember.

  The way the Vyshek moved.

  The way she fought.

  The way her arcane had struck the Sattira.

  Then—

  A sudden crash.

  A cup fell to the floor, shattering.

  The noise snapped her out of her thoughts.

  She turned instinctively.

  A Bych was crouched, picking up the broken pieces.

  Normal.

  Not a big deal.

  Dyn exhaled and turned back to her Vahi.

  But—

  Something caught her eye.

  Her fingers stopped midair.

  Her breath hitched.

  Her mind raced.

  The Vyshek’s hand.

  She had burned it when she unshackled the enchanted book.

  A burned hand.

  A wounded hand.

  That was it.

  That was her clue.

  Dyn (whispering, eyes gleaming with realization): "Hands… a wounded hand."

  She leaned forward, thinking faster now.

  Dyn (muttering to herself, a smirk forming): "Wounds heal faster for a light-blessed one. But a wound from a spell… takes time."

  She had to look.

  She had to check every Bych.

  Because somewhere among them—

  Was the Vyshek.

  Meanwhile—

  In Elysia’s room, the alarm buzzed.

  A robotic voice filled the air.

  PIX (VOICE): "CONJOR, ELYSIA. YOUR SCHEDULE TODAY INCLUDES—"

  Elysia (groggy, muttering into her pillow): "Umm… stop. I’m awake."

  The alarm clicked off.

  She sat up sluggishly, rubbing her eyes.

  Dragging herself to the bathroom, she turned on the tap.

  Cold water flowed.

  She reached out to splash her face—

  And froze.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Her eyes widened.

  On her hand.

  A burn.

  Dark. Painful. Fresh.

  A deep mark.

  Elysia staggered back.

  Her hand ached as if the wound had just happened.

  Elysia (shocked, staring at her palm): "What’s this now??"

  Her heart pounded.

  Her mind raced.

  Then—

  A terrifying thought hit her.

  Elysia (voice trembling, whispering to herself): "Is it…?"

  She turned away from the mirror, stumbling out of the bathroom.

  She clutched her burned hand, trying to make sense of it.

  Elysia (frustrated, fed up, almost shouting at herself): "What is happening to me?!"

  A brief silence.

  Then—

  A voice responded.

  A voice that shouldn’t be there.

  PIX (VOICE): "YOU ARE DEHYDRATED. CONSIDER DRINKING SOME WATER."

  Elysia ignored it.

  She rushed to her medic kit, pulling out a medic for burns.

  She needed to fix this.

  She needed to understand this.

  Her hands shook as she applied the medicine—

  Then—

  A second voice.

  A voice that wasn’t Pix’s.

  A voice that came from inside her room.

  VOICE: "That won’t work."

  Elysia froze.

  Her body went cold.

  A sharp chill ran down her spine.

  Her hands trembled.

  Her heart pounded against her ribs.

  Slowly—

  So slowly—

  She turned.

  And then—

  She saw her.

  The figure.

  The same one.

  The thick, dark purple tunic.

  Standing in front of her.

  Still. Silent. Watching.

  Elysia’s blood ran cold.

  Her legs went weak.

  She felt the air leave her lungs.

  Her chest tightened.

  She couldn’t move.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Her vision blurred.

  Her mind screamed.

  And then—

  Darkness.

  She collapsed.

  Falling into unconsciousness.

  Elysia’s mind was spinning.

  Her breathing was shallow.

  Her hands were shaking.

  But—

  She wasn't running.

  Because the figure sitting before her wasn't just anyone.

  When Elysia had first opened her eyes, the shock had been instant.

  A thick, dark purple tunic, sat calmly in the chair.

  Still. Unmoving. Watching.

  Not attacking.

  Not threatening.

  Just there.

  Elysia didn't waste time asking who are you or what do you want.

  Because—she already knew.

  And so—

  She asked the real question.

  Elysia (voice shaking, barely above a whisper): "Are you here to kill me too?"

  The figure stayed still.

  Then—

  A simple, calm reply.

  Figure (soft, plain): "No."

  Elysia’s breath hitched.

  And then—

  The figure moved.

  She turned fully, facing Elysia.

  And as she did—

  Elysia saw her face.

  Her own face.

  Her own eyes.

  Her own expression—cold and calm.

  Elysia froze.

  Her body locked up.

  Her mind refused to believe it.

  She stumbled back on the bed, pressing herself against the wall.

  Her chest tightened.

  Her head spun.

  Elysia (shaking her head rapidly, panicking): "No. No. This isn’t real. This isn’t real."

  Her voice cracked.

  Elysia (frantic, voice rising): "Someone is manipulating reality. This is an illusion. A trick. A spell."

  She moved fast, her hands glowing with arcane energy.

  She began casting a dispel spell.

  The energy rushed out, rippling through the room.

  A wave of power.

  The air shifted.

  But—

  Nothing changed.

  The figure still sat there.

  Watching.

  Unmoved.

  Unchanged.

  No illusion.

  No false reality.

  No manipulation.

  This was real.

  Elysia felt her stomach drop.

  Her breath came faster.

  Elysia (weakly, whispering to herself): "No…"

  Her hands shook.

  Then—

  She grabbed her Bracon.

  She had to call for help.

  Elysia (frantic, pressing the emergency command): "Pix—call Sattira Enforcement!"

  A brief pause.

  Then—

  PIX (VOICE): "CALLING SATTIRA ENFORCEMENT—"

  But before the call could go through—

  Elysia’s own voice cut through the room.

  Elysia (without meaning to, without control): "No. Stop."

  Elysia’s eyes widened in horror.

  She hadn't meant to say that.

  But she had.

  Or—

  Something inside her had.

  PIX (VOICE): "CANCELING EMERGENCY REQUEST."

  Elysia’s hand trembled.

  Her throat tightened.

  She tried to speak again.

  Elysia (whispering, struggling to force the words out): "No. Call—"

  Her voice died in her throat.

  She couldn't say it.

  She couldn't call for help.

  Something was stopping her.

  Something inside her.

  Her breath turned shallow.

  Her hands went cold.

  The figure stood up.

  Slowly.

  Smoothly.

  Like a shadow unfolding.

  She stepped closer.

  And it felt like Elysia was watching herself move—but without control.

  Elysia (panicking, scrambling back in bed): "No. No. Stay there. Stay right there!"

  The figure stopped.

  Silent.

  Still.

  Then—she spoke.

  Figure (calmly, evenly): "We need to talk."

  Elysia stopped moving.

  She stared.

  Breathing fast.

  Her mind screamed at her to run.

  But—

  Her body didn't move.

  Because—

  Somewhere deep down—

  She knew.

  She already knew the truth.

  A few moments later—

  Elysia sat in a chair, across from herself.

  Her hands rested on her lap, gripping her own fingers tightly.

  She was calm.

  But still scared.

  Because now, she knew—

  This figure, this other Elysia, wasn’t here to kill her.

  She could speak to her.

  Or—

  She could speak to herself.

  The figure leaned back slightly.

  Her face wasn’t cruel.

  It wasn’t mocking.

  It was just calm. Plain. Emotionless.

  Then, she spoke.

  Figure (softly, easily): "Don't be scared of me."

  Elysia’s fingers clenched.

  Her throat dry.

  Her voice was hoarse when she finally spoke.

  Elysia (whispering, shaky): "You… you look like me."

  Her voice grew louder.

  Elysia (accusing, panicked): "And you are the one in the footage!"

  The figure didn’t flinch.

  Didn’t deny it.

  She just stared.

  Then—

  She answered.

  Figure (calm, steady): "No. It’s not like that."

  Elysia (angry, still shaken): "Then what is it? Who are you?"

  The figure didn’t respond immediately.

  She simply exhaled softly.

  Then—

  Her voice lowered.

  Figure (gently, slowly): "First, I want you to calm down."

  Elysia breathed heavily.

  Her heart pounded.

  Elysia (snapping, defensive): "How can I?! Sattira are hunting you! And you—"

  The figure cut in.

  Her voice was sharp now.

  Figure (firm, steady): "Elysia! If I told you the truth right now, you would break."

  Elysia froze.

  Something about the way she said it…

  Something in her voice…

  Elysia swallowed hard.

  Her lips parted slightly.

  Her mind racing.

  Then—

  The figure spoke again.

  Figure (softer now, almost reassuring): "I need you to calm down first. I’m here to protect you."

  Elysia’s heart pounded harder.

  Her breath hitched.

  She tried to process.

  Elysia (whispering, shaken): "What? Protect me? From what?"

  The figure watched her.

  Then—

  She gave her final warning.

  Figure (soft, serious, final): "Take a deep breath. I don’t want you fainting again. We have work to do."

  Elysia stared.

  She didn’t speak.

  She just watched.

  Trying to understand.

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