My eyes snapped open, but the darkness swallowed me whole. The cold wrapped around me, insidious and unrelenting, sinking past skin, past muscle—seeping into marrow. My breath hitched, shallow and uneven, each inhale laced with frost. Silence pressed against my ears, thick and suffocating.

  I tried to move. Nothing. A dull bite flared at my wrists, sharp and unyielding. Ropes. My arms were wrenched behind me, my legs bound tight to the unforgiving wood of a chair. No slack. No escape. A slow, creeping panic stirred in my chest, but I forced it down. Panic was useless. Panic made people sloppy. I needed control.

  Where was I?

  Where was Arie?

  I exhaled, testing the bonds, but they held firm. The air was stagnant, heavy with something unseen—something wrong. I strained my ears, searching for any sound beyond the unnatural stillness.

  Memories flickered, disjointed. The boat. Arie. That smile—cold, knowing. A blade hidden behind silk. Then—

  Darkness.

  She had done something. I had to know what. I had to understand.

  "Arie!" My voice was raw, scraping against the silence like a blade against stone. The quiet swallowed it whole. A beat passed. Another. My heartbeat thundered against my ribs, each pulse a countdown.

  Then—

  A step. Deliberate. Measured. A single footfall cracking the stillness apart.

  I felt her before I saw her.

  "So, you’re awake."

  Familiar. And yet... not. The voice was Arie’s, but something about it had been stripped away, left hollow and brittle. A cold whisper of something that should have been real.

  "Arie?" Her name left my lips, unsteady. Uncertain.

  Another step. Then another. Slow, almost leisurely. A chuckle, soft yet edged with something sharp. The sound slithered beneath my skin, cold and wrong. The air itself seemed to recoil from her presence, pulling away like it knew something I didn’t.

  "What is this?" My throat tightened, the words barely making it past my lips. "It sounds like you, but it can’t be you. It can’t."

  "Just a little... demonstration."

  Amusement, thinly veiled. Empty. The laughter that followed sent ice through my veins.

  I swallowed. "Where’s Arie?"

  A pause. Then, something darker curled around her voice, something that made the space between us feel impossibly vast and suffocating all at once.

  "Why do you think you’re hearing her voice?"

  The whisper coiled at the edge of my ear, and the breath in my lungs turned to stone. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t hearing just Arie anymore.

  The lights flickered—dim, hesitant. Enough.

  She stepped forward, her figure wreathed in shadow, just beyond reach. The air thickened, reality folding in on itself as if resisting her presence. My pulse stilled. My breath caught.

  Because as I looked at her, I realized—

  This wasn’t Arie.

  Not the Arie I knew.

  She stepped closer, the flickering light stretching shadows across her face. Her face. Her eyes. Unmistakable. And yet—wrong. Off. There was something in her gaze that didn’t belong. Something vacant. Something cruel. She wore Arie’s face, but it didn’t carry her soul. The smile curling at her lips—sharp, foreign—did not belong to the girl I knew.

  The realization crashed over me like a glacial wave, drowning me in something thick, suffocating. My breath caught, my pulse an erratic rhythm against my ribs. What was this? What was happening? My mind screamed for clarity, but the only way to grasp it was to ask.

  "Are you... really Arie?" The words barely held shape, thin and cracking, slipping between my teeth before I could stop them.

  “I’m Arie,” she said, light, casual. But her eyes—those eyes—spoke a different truth. She tilted her head, her smirk twisting, warping. Not playful. Not teasing, the way Arie once had. No, this was darker. A mockery.

  “Are you sure, Skymint?” she murmured, her voice rich with something venomous. “It’s me. Can’t you tell?”

  The room shrank around me. My lungs burned, desperate for more air than I could take in. This was Arie’s voice, her mannerisms, her presence—yet everything in me recoiled. The air thickened, sickly, poisoned with something unseen.

  I swallowed against the knot in my throat. “But you—you’re really Arie, right?”

  The silence stretched, brittle. The temperature in the space between us plummeted, the cold gripping around my ribs, tightening.

  Her eyes gleamed, empty of warmth, of sorrow, of anything I could recognize. And then—

  “No,” she said simply. Flat. Unbothered. “I’m Ellie.”

  Ellie.

  The name hit like a blade, driving deep, twisting. The world wavered, tilting beneath me. My fingers curled against the rough ropes binding me, my mind clawing for sense, for reason—grasping at nothing. “Ellie?” I rasped. “What—what is this? What’s happening?”

  Her smile widened, something sharp slithering beneath it. “You’re a little slow, aren’t you, Skymint?” she mused, her laughter blooming, rich and icy. The sound fractured the air, curling around my ribs, tightening like a snare.

  "Ellie," I whispered, the name bitter on my tongue.

  She laughed again, sharp as a blade’s edge. “I suppose that’s what you’ll call me. Ellie.” A pause. A breath. “But yes, I’m Ellie. And I’m Arie.” She leaned in, voice soft, slicing through the haze. “Or rather—I’m the part of her you’ve never wanted to see.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  A chill wrapped around my spine, seeping deep, deep into the marrow.

  “The part of her that’s been locked away...” she exhaled, her smile stretching wider. “Until now.”

  The words hollowed me out. The truth rose like a storm, thundering, inevitable.

  She wasn’t a mask Arie wore.

  She was Arie.

  But darker. Twisted.

  A part of her—an awful, terrifying part.

  My breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. The ropes bit deeper into my wrists with every futile struggle, my pulse hammering beneath my skin. The room had grown colder—not just with fear, but with something else. Something unseen. Something wrong. The air felt heavier, thick with an unnatural weight that pressed into my lungs.

  Ellie tilted her head, her expression a careful study of amusement and patience, like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. Her fingers drifted to the necklace resting against her collarbone—the one I had given to Arie. A jagged twist of dread coiled in my gut.

  My gift.

  “Such a thoughtful present,” she mused, her touch languid as she traced the pendant’s shape. “Really, Skymint, I almost feel bad.”

  She didn’t. The mockery laced in her voice made that clear.

  Her fingers curled around the pendant, and the air between us cracked, like the first splinter in a sheet of ice. My fur bristled. I opened my mouth to speak, to demand she stop, but the words died before they could reach my tongue. My throat closed up as if invisible hands had wrapped around it, squeezing.

  She laughed then—sharp, high-pitched, and far too delighted. It rang through the air, shrill and infectious, like she couldn’t contain the glee bubbling up inside her. The sound wrapped itself around my senses, jagged and unnerving.

  Ellie leaned in, her breath a whisper against my ear.

  “If I die, you die.”

  The words slid into my mind like a serpent, slow and deliberate. I stiffened, horror clawing up my spine.

  No.

  She couldn’t have—

  Ellie pulled back just enough to watch the realization seep into my face, her smile spreading, cold and satisfied.

  “If you die,” she continued, voice laced with quiet amusement, “then I die too.”

  “What did you do to me?” I rasped, the weight of it crashing down, suffocating.

  Ellie chuckled, letting her fingers trail along the chain. “I made sure we’re connected, Skymint. Isn’t it poetic?” Her eyes gleamed with something wicked, something knowing. “You can’t run from me now. Even if you try.”

  My breaths came shallow, uneven. “You—”

  “And,” she added, sing-song, tilting her head, “you can’t tell Arie about me either.”

  The words sent ice through my veins, sharp and merciless.

  No.

  No, there had to be a way out—there had to be—

  “Do you feel it?” Ellie whispered, her gaze burning into mine. “The bond. It’s already sinking in, isn’t it?”

  I did. The sickening weight of it, curling around my soul like an unshakable shadow. If she fell, so would I. If I fought her—

  I swallowed hard, nausea rising in my throat. “Why?”

  Ellie’s smile faded. The playfulness in her gaze flickered, giving way to something darker, something raw.

  “Because, Skymint,” she murmured, stepping back just enough for the dim light to carve sharper shadows across her face. “I refuse to be ignored.”

  A silence thick with tension stretched between us, fragile and waiting to break. Then, without prelude, she spoke—low, commanding.

  "Ropes, unbind."

  The bindings unraveled before I could even process the words. They loosened, then slithered to the ground in eerie compliance, like well-trained pets obeying their master. My breath hitched as I stared at my freed hands, wrists raw and burning from the struggle.

  A chuckle—soft, edged in something unreadable.

  "You looked so pitiful," Ellie murmured, tilting her head. "I thought I’d be merciful."

  Merciful.

  The word coiled around my ribs like something tangible. I flexed my fingers, testing them for any lingering numbness, trying to suppress the tremor in my breath. "Why?"

  Ellie leaned against the ice wall, arms folded, eyes gleaming with unshakable amusement. "Oh, Skymint," she sighed, the syllables drawn out like a weary indulgence. "You act like I do things without reason. Doesn’t that bother you?"

  I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. "Everything about you bothers me."

  Her grin widened, the kind that wasn't meant to be comforting. "Interesting."

  I forced down the frustration clawing its way up my chest. She could have kept me tied, toyed with me for hours, but she let me go. Not out of kindness. Not out of mercy. Because she didn’t need the ropes anymore.

  Because I wasn’t actually free.

  The thought made me feel sick.

  Ellie stretched, the motion languid, careless. "You’re being awfully quiet," she mused. "What’s wrong?"

  I clenched my fists. "You know damn well what’s wrong."

  She laughed then—light, almost musical. But there was something threaded beneath it, something that made my fur bristle. "You’re so slow, but I do love watching you catch up."

  I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "What are you?"

  Her smile sharpened. "Oh? Now you’re curious?"

  "Are you… a doppelganger? A curse? Is Arie possessed?" My voice came rough, edged in something raw. "Get out of her."

  Ellie giggled. "Bear-boy, you ask such silly questions."

  I stilled. "Bear-boy?"

  She tapped a finger against her lips, considering. "Mmm, yes. It suits you. All grumpy and growly. I think I’ll call you that from now on."

  My hands twitched at my sides. "Don’t."

  Ellie’s amusement only grew. "Oh, but I will. You called me all sorts of things just now. It’s only fair I return the favor."

  "Bear-boy."

  I ground my teeth, forcing myself to focus. I didn’t have time for this. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t something Arie even knew about.

  My chest tightened. She was twisting Arie’s mind. Warping it. And she was enjoying every second.

  "You like this, don’t you?" I asked, my voice low. "Playing with her like she’s some kind of puppet."

  Ellie feigned thoughtfulness, tapping her chin. "Like?" The word dangled, deliberate, before she shrugged. "I wouldn’t say that. But it is… necessary."

  My muscles coiled with tension as I stepped forward. "Stay out of her head."

  Her smirk didn’t waver, but something flickered beneath it—something cold, something razor-sharp. "Or what?" she whispered.

  I didn’t answer.

  She studied me, and then, with the ease of someone who already knew the outcome, she exhaled, shifting back into languid amusement. "Oh, bear-boy," she sighed, letting the nickname stretch between us like an unspoken dare. "You really do care about her, don’t you?"

  My jaw tightened. "Unlike you."

  A shadow passed over her expression—brief, unreadable. Annoyance? Amusement? It was gone before I could name it.

  Ellie stepped closer, her presence unnervingly calm, as if she had all the time in the world. "You don’t understand," she murmured, her voice silk and shadow. "But that’s okay. You will."

  A bitter taste filled my mouth. "I already do."

  Her brow arched, intrigued. "Really?"

  I forced myself to meet her gaze, though every instinct screamed not to. "I believe you now. You’re not some illusion. Not some dream. You’re the other half of Arie."

  For a moment, just a moment, Ellie stilled. Then she let out a quiet chuckle, the sound curling like frostbite at the edges of the air. "Bear-boy. Finally catching up?"

  I ignored the nickname, my hands twitching at my sides. "You twisted her desire to help me. You blacked me out just so you could steer the boat to Fresha Kingdom."

  Ellie tilted her head, her smile an unreadable thing. Neither confirmation nor denial—just a knowing amusement that settled like a weight in my chest. "How interesting."

  My gut twisted. "Why? What are you planning?"

  For a fraction of a second, something shifted in her expression—something almost wistful, almost soft. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, smothered beneath that ever-present grin. She stepped back. "Why would I even tell you?"

  My stomach knotted. "Then tell me—why did you have to tie me up?"

  Again, that flicker. A glint of something buried deep. But Ellie only grinned, stepping lightly out of reach. "I tied you up for your own good, bear-boy. You wouldn't have lasted five minutes if you'd started panicking."

  I clenched my fists but held my ground. I couldn’t stop her. Not without risking Arie’s life. Not without risking my own.

  Ellie studied me for a beat, then smirked. "Bear-boy. You’re holding back. How responsible of you."

  My muscles tensed, frustration simmering beneath my skin. She was dangerous. Reckless. And worst of all? Arie had no idea.

  Ellie stretched, the motion lazy, indulgent. Then she gestured toward the icy walls surrounding us. "You should be thanking me, really. You would’ve taken the long way. I? I take shortcuts."

  I glared. "She wouldn’t have wanted this."

  Ellie shrugged, utterly unfazed. "Perhaps. But what Arie wants and what she needs are two very different things."

  Talking to her was disorienting, like words had lost their meaning. Everything felt too dreamlike, too warped. My grogginess only made it worse. Some desperate part of me still hoped her magic wasn’t real.

  But one thing was certain—Ellie was real. And I'm stuck with her forever.