Chapter 16: 16. Shadows That Wear Her Face
"You’re not the only one wearing your face."
The words haunted Elara like a melody that wouldn’t stop playing. She sat in the corner of the vast library, wrapped in a shawl, pretending to read. The mansion was too quiet. Even the fireplaces crackled in whispers.
Damien entered without knocking, holding his phone like a weapon.
"You saw this?" he asked, handing her the screen.
A security camera still. A woman in a red coat moving past one of the lower corridors. Brown hair. Lean frame.
Elara’s mouth went dry. "That’s me."
Damien shook his head. "You were asleep in your room when this was recorded."
She stood slowly. "Where was this taken?"
"East Wing. No one goes there except my father’s private guards."
Elara swallowed hard. "She’s inside."
He nodded grimly. "And she has your face."
They moved through the East Wing with weapons drawn—Damien with a modified Voss pistol, Elara with a blade she kept hidden in her boot since she was fifteen.
The hall smelled of disinfectant and dust. Broken picture frames lined the walls—forgotten portraits of Voss ancestors too cruel to be remembered.
Then Elara saw her.
The woman stood at the end of the corridor, her back to them. She was wearing Elara’s favorite navy coat. Her hair was styled the same way. Even her posture was exact.
Elara called out, "Stop."
The woman turned.
It was like looking into a mirror.
But the eyes were wrong.
Cold. Empty. Programmed.
She smirked. "I expected more security."
Elara stepped forward. "Who sent you?"
The clone’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. "Wouldn’t you like to know, sister?"
Damien moved to flank, but the clone flicked something from her coat, a smoke pellet. Darkness exploded.
Gunfire. Shouting. Glass breaking.
When the smoke cleared, she was gone.
But in her place was a burned insignia scorched into the floor. Not Resistance. Something worse.
The Spiral.
Damien cursed. "They’re back."
Elara turned to him. "You know this symbol?"
He nodded grimly. "My father’s black ops project. Disbanded after the failed Arclight experiments. Or so they claimed."
Elara looked down at the mark.
"They’re not just back," she said. "They’ve been watching us the whole time."
Back in the safety of Damien’s study, they opened his encrypted archives.
"You’ll need clearance," he warned.
Elara placed her palm on the scanner. "I’ll take my chances."
Files loaded. Thousands of them. Experimental programs, test subjects, genetic markers.
Damien filtered for Spiral Division.
A document surfaced:
Subject: E-47 / Codename: Shade Status: Active clone. Intelligence level: High. Primary function: Infiltrate, replicate, replace. Genetic template: E. Meryn (Elara)
Elara stared.
"She’s me."
Damien nodded. "A weaponized version. Made to replace you."
She sank into the chair. "If they can make her... how many more are out there?"
He hesitated. "The file mentions a batch."
"Batch?"
"Four."
Elara’s breath caught.
Four shadows. Four versions of her. Each potentially walking, breathing, destroying in her name.
"Then we need to hunt them," she said.
Damien looked at her, a rare flicker of admiration in his eyes.
"No," he said. "We need to outsmart them."
That night, Elara hosted a small dinner party, planned last minute, which in their world only made it more suspicious.
Guests from various sectors arrived: politicians, tech tycoons, former enemies turned allies.
The clone wouldn’t be able to resist.
Damien watched from the hallway, dressed in all black, his earpiece connected to internal surveillance. He wasn’t by her side, but he was everywhere.
Elara dazzled. She smiled, toasted, twirled lies like silk. She wore red. A declaration of war.
Then, just after midnight, he saw her.
Not Elara.
Shade.
In the mirror, in the background. Mimicking her smile. Standing beside a senator and blending like smoke.
Damien whispered into the mic. "East wing hallway. South mirror. Move now."
The trap was sprung.
But Shade didn’t run.
She looked directly into the security camera, lifted her glass, and mouthed: "Catch me."
Then she vanished again.
In the aftermath, Elara sat in her room staring at herself in the mirror. She touched her face. Her lips. Her eyes.
If someone else could wear her skin, her voice, her life, what made her her?
Damien knocked once, then entered.
"You shouldn’t be alone."
She didn’t answer.
He sat beside her, quietly, until she spoke.
"Am I even real, Damien?"
He blinked. "What do you mean?"
"They used me to build them. They coded me. My past was rewritten a dozen times. What if I’m just a more stable clone?"
Damien leaned forward.
"Elara," he said firmly. "You’re not them."
"But I could be."
"No. You feel. You fight. You love."
She turned sharply. "Do I?"
He held her face. "You do. Even when you hate it.
Silence.
Then, softer. "Do you?"
His brows furrowed. "Do I what?"
She stared at him. "Love me."
He didn’t look away. "Yes."
She exhaled like she’d been holding that breath for years.
"Good," she whispered. "Then don’t leave me. Not now."
He didn’t.
The next morning, chaos erupted.
One of the central government’s information hubs was hacked. Data wiped. Footage leaked.
And in every video, Shade’s face.
Wearing Elara’s form.
Claiming responsibility.
Declaring war.
"I am Elara Voss," the recording said. "And I stand for the Spiral."
Elara slammed her fist into the wall.
"She’s framing me."
Damien was already calling their legal team. "This is more than framing. This is an act of war."
Elara grabbed her coat. "Then let’s fight one."
They tracked the signal to an old subway tunnel under the city.
It was a trap. They knew that.
They went anyway.
Inside the tunnels, they found not one, but two clones. One was Shade. The other, a younger version of Elara. Eyes full of fear.
"They made her younger," Elara whispered. "Less will. Easier to control."
Shade stepped forward. "You don’t belong anymore."
Elara lifted her gun. "Neither do you."
It wasn’t a fight. It was a war in seconds.
Gunfire. Smoke. Screams.
Damien shielded Elara as the younger clone panicked and fled.
Shade lunged, but Elara shot first.
The bullet went clean through the clone’s heart.
Shade smiled as she fell. "You can’t stop what’s coming."
Then she died.
Elara stood over her, shaking.
Damien wrapped his arms around her.
"You just did."
They stood in silence, staring at the clone’s body.
"I killed myself," Elara whispered.
"No," Damien said. "You killed what tried to
erase you."
Elara nodded slowly.
But in the shadows, she saw another reflection.
The younger clone. Watching.
Waiting.