Toren stood at the western watchpoint as twin moons cast long shadows across Aurex's cliffs. The air was dry. Too dry. Not the jungle breath they knew—this was ash-thin, brittle, dead.
Below, scouts found prints.
A trail—just one.
Same depth. Same gait. Same boot style.
His boot style.
Wess called it in: "We've got a shadow that's not casting light."
Toren responded quietly, "Don't follow. Just mark him."
Mira stood beside him, silent.
"He's not hiding," she finally said.
"No," Toren replied. "He's circling. Waiting for the right moment."
She looked at him, steady. "And what's that moment?"
He didn't blink.
"When I'm not myself."
Tarn ran the biometric footage again.
Overlay after overlay—Toren and Mirror-Toren in synced movement.
On screen, one laughed during a council meeting. The other shattered a scout's ribs in the jungle.
"Same face," he muttered. "Different heart."
Linae studied the neural echo patterns Kora recorded.
"This isn't just mimicry. It's reverse-engineered empathy. He feels what Toren might, but chooses differently."
Mira stood back, arms crossed.
"He's baiting us. Making us question everything."
Tarn nodded. "We'll need a failsafe. If they cross paths publicly…"
Mira's voice was low, firm.
"I'll be the one to tell them apart."
Mirror-Toren moved through the high ridges above Aurex like a ghost. He spoke to no one. Slept nowhere.
But every two days—precisely—he left behind a message, etched in stone or sand.
HE CAN'T PROTECT YOU.
HE'S ALREADY FAILED.
I AM WHAT HE HIDES.
And each time, someone from the outposts saw it before the message was removed.
Rumors spread.
Doubt coiled.
Was Toren hiding something?
Was he sick?
Was the system… lying?
The council met privately. Voices clashed.
And Toren didn't deny the existence of the double.
"I won't lie," he said. "But I will face him."
Mira added, "We'll be at your side."
But Toren shook his head.
"No. This one has to be me alone."
He stood in the Temple of Corelight—the first structure he ever raised in Aurex. A place of resonance, still unfinished.
He'd sent no guards. No scouts.
Just waited.
At dawn, Mirror-Toren entered.
No footsteps.
No breath.
Just there.
They stared at each other across stone and light.
Same height. Same build. Same voice.
But one had scars on the inside.
Toren raised a hand, not in aggression—but question.
"Why?"
The clone's voice was dust.
"Because your people believe you're a god."
Toren stepped closer.
"I'm not."
The clone smiled.
"That's the difference."
And in that moment, Toren knew—
This wasn't just a copy.
It was a test.
And the throne at the center of Aurex… could only hold one.