The mirror double moves like a melody she's never heard before graceful, eerie, full of smiling truths.
It speaks to her people in whispers of what could've been.
"What if we built instead of burned?"
"What if we remembered joy?"
"What if we wrote forgiveness into the margins?"
They listen.
They shouldn't.
But they do.
Because it looks like Elóranth.
Sounds like the hope they lost.
And promises something almost like peace.
Severin watches both Queens from the throne room stairs.
He doesn't kneel.
"She gives them what you took," he says quietly.
"The dreamer you killed… she's alive in that thing."
Elóranth doesn't flinch.
"It's a parasite.
Fed on what I buried."
She turns, robes trailing power like coiling ink.
"It speaks of peace, but has never known war.
It mimics mercy, but knows nothing of betrayal."
"And it is mine."
She steps into the heart of her kingdom.
Calls down lightning made of deleted gods and shattered plots.
And in the square where the Forgotten gather…
She and the mirror self clash.
Magic breaks the sky.
The Rewritten Queen uses beauty as a weapon Softness that seduces, smiles that infect.
But Elóranth wields truth.
Bladed. Bitter. Brutal.
"You don't know what I gave up," she growls.
"You were born from sacrifice.
I bled to exist."
"You want to be loved.
I demand to be remembered."
And she burns the air with her name:
"I am Elóranth. I write the ending."
But as the battle ends, the Rewritten Queen only laughs.
Not destroyed.
Only… multiplied.
Now she appears in dreams. In pages.
In the minds of readers.
"What if she was better than you?"