Dear Diary,
I thought the storm was over. I thought that after the final battle, after the light swallowed the darkness, I'd finally get a moment to breathe. But I was wrong. The real storm had just begun.
The morning after the battle, everything felt... off. The sun shone too bright. The hallways of Crestwood High buzzed with the usual chaos — lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, gossip flying like wildfire — but beneath it all, something felt fractured. Like reality was trying to hold itself together with invisible stitches.
Malik hadn't come to school. Again.
And that wasn't like him.
After everything we went through, after what we shared that night — the battle, the truth about who we are — he wouldn't just disappear. Not unless something had gone terribly wrong.
I went to my locker, the one that started it all. The crown symbol still shimmered faintly when I touched it, glowing like a heartbeat. A reminder that the magic hadn't gone anywhere.
But this time, the glow spread.
Lines of golden light spiraled across the metal, forming shapes I didn't recognize — symbols older than language itself. And then, I heard her.
A voice. My voice.
But deeper. Stronger. Regal.
"Zariah… you opened the wrong door."
I stumbled back, heart pounding. The crown symbol pulsed once more, and suddenly, my reflection in the locker mirror blinked. My reflection — not me. She smirked.
"I warned you, didn't I?" the reflection said, her voice smooth and mocking. "Every queen has a shadow. I am yours."
Before I could react, the metal twisted like melting glass. The reflection's hand reached out and grabbed mine, pulling me toward the mirror. I screamed, but it was too late — the hallway vanished in a flash of white light.
I landed hard on stone. Cold. Ancient.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in Crestwood anymore.
I was standing in a massive throne room, the air thick with dust and whispers. Moonlight streamed through shattered stained glass, illuminating a throne of gold — empty, but waiting. My reflection stood before it, wearing the same uniform as me, except hers shimmered with royal insignia.
She smiled. "You thought you could inherit the crown without facing me?"
I clenched my fists. "Who are you?"
"I told you," she said, stepping closer. "I'm you — the first queen reborn. The side you tried to forget."
And then I saw it — the necklace around her neck. Malik's pendant.
My heart stopped.
"Where is he?" I demanded.
She laughed — that same cold, perfect laugh that made my blood run cold. "He made his choice. The same choice he made centuries ago."
Pieces clicked in my head like tumbling dominoes. The dreams. The visions. The whispers of betrayal. The war wasn't just between light and dark — it was between us.
My shadow. My past self. My other half.
The air trembled as our magic flared, two golden auras clashing like thunder. The throne between us cracked, the ancient runes igniting with every word we screamed.
"You can't run from destiny, Zariah," she said, raising her hand. "You can only become it."
Lightning struck. I barely dodged, feeling the heat sear across my arm. My magic erupted, wild and untamed, spiraling into symbols I didn't recognize but somehow understood. This wasn't just about me — it was about every queen before me.
The room trembled as we clashed, light and shadow colliding in waves. For a moment, I saw flashes — Malik chained in darkness, calling my name. The crown splitting in two. A city burning.
And then — silence.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the hallway. My reflection was gone. My locker was open, and inside, the crown sat waiting — cracked down the middle.
But there was something else, too. A note. Written in gold ink.
"Book II begins where the shadow falls."
My breath caught in my throat.
If this was the end of my story… it was only the beginning of hers.
— Zariah