**WARNING!** Heavy use of language and violence is present. Some scenes may not be suitable for younger readers.
This book, "Regal Rift," is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidenta...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The face beneath the hood was one he knew all too well. It was his own face, twisted into a dark, malevolent expression.
The hooded figure was a mirror image of Prince Lyxander, yet there was something profoundly different, something darker, more sinister.
The figure’s smile widened, and for a moment, the chamber seemed to tremble with an unsettling energy, though the figure’s lips barely moved.
“You know exactly who I am,” the figure whispered, its voice smooth as ice, each word laced with a chilling certainty.
This version of him radiated an aura of power and cruelty, an embodiment of every darkness Lyxander had tried to suppress within himself.
Lyxander’s mind raced, grappling with the surreal reality before him.
He had heard tales of dark doubles, of reflections that embodied one’s worst traits, but to face it himself was something altogether different.
His breath grew shallow as the figure’s twisted smile deepened, its eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure.
“Why... why do you look like me?” Lyxander’s voice trembled with disbelief, but he forced himself to steady it, to maintain control.
His sword was drawn before he even realized it, the blade trembling slightly in his grip as he pointed it at the dark version of himself.
The figure’s smile only widened, a cold glint in his eyes as he stared down the blade without fear.
“Because I am you, Lyxander,” the figure said, his tone filled with mockery.
“I’m the part of you that you’ve tried so desperately to hide, the darkness you refuse to acknowledge. But no matter how much you try to suppress me, I’m always here, lurking in the shadows, waiting for my moment.”
Lyxander’s grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white. He wanted to strike, to banish this twisted version of himself back into the shadows where it belonged, but something held him back a creeping doubt that gnawed at his resolve.
“You can’t kill me,” the figure continued, his voice dropping to a taunting whisper.
“You can’t kill what’s already a part of you. We’re the same, you and I. The only difference is that I’ve embraced what you fear.”
The figure took a deliberate step closer, and as it did, the shadows seemed to stretch, reaching out to envelop them both.
“I am your future,” it said, the words hanging in the air like a curse.
“I am what you will become.”Lyxander felt a cold wave of shock wash over him. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the figure, his eyes locking onto the same violet gaze.
“No,” Lyxander whispered, his voice barely audible as he shook his head in denial.
“That can’t be true. I’m not like you. I’ll never be like you.”
