The doppelganger now stood cloaked in my image—so perfectly crafted that even I had to admit… it looked exactly like me.
Every detail had been replicated with eerie precision.
The voice. The aura. Even the scent.
It was as if a mirror had stepped out of its frame and come to life.
Without a word, the doppelganger turned and walked away, its footsteps silent. I could only watch helplessly—taking my identity with it.
Meanwhile, I remained behind—bound by enchanted restraints, the cold touch of rope tightening around my wrists like iron vines.
Lisa stood a few feet away, her expression unreadable as she began the preparations for the ritual.
Back at the mansion, Vlad, Xander, Dylan, and Oregon stood in the courtyard, tension coiled between them. None of them had been at ease since Leighton vanished.
And they all knew whoever had taken her, it hadn't been Jade.
A gust of wind stirred the leaves as the doppelganger stepped through the front gate, boots silent against the stone.
Inside the warmth of the manor, it moved fluidly, gracefully—greeting them just enough to seem weary. Then, it excused itself to rest, which no one questioned.
But something was off.
Oregon lingered near the garden, lost in thought, until a flicker of gold pulsed beneath his sleeve.
He glanced down at the rune-etched tattoo that marked his bond with Leighton. It glowed faintly—its usual response to my presence. But the warmth was gone.
He pressed his hand over it, confusion creeping in. Normally, if his mark glowed, Leighton's would too.
Xander noticed next. He caught the doppelganger leaving the study and tilted his head.
The way it walked—subtle, but wrong. Too polished. Too composed.
Leighton always carried tension in her shoulders, like a storm waiting to break.
This version moved like a reflection in still water.
He said nothing yet—but narrowed his eyes and followed.
In the wine cellar, Vlad had been searching for one of the old vampiric relics when he heard Leighton's voice humming softly overhead.
Relief hit him for a moment. But then, as the sound drifted past, he froze mid-step.
That voice—it was too smooth. Artificial.
Vlad's expression darkened. He closed the case and ascended the stairs in silence.
Meanwhile, Dylan sat outside. A breeze carried scents from within the manor, and his eyes snapped open.
Something was wrong.
Leighton's scent always stirred something primal in him. Protective. Anchoring. Hers alone.
But this… this was close.
And yet, hollow.
His claws slid out with a quiet snikt.
Even though they all sensed something was off, none of them acted immediately.
Instead, they gathered in the living room, exchanging tense glances. Finally, they agreed—they had to confront her.
Knock. Knock.
Xander's voice broke the silence.
"Leighton? Are you there?"
Footsteps approached. The door opened.
"Are you okay?" Xander asked.
The doppelganger nodded, staggering slightly.
"You all must be wondering how I escaped. But I made it out. I'm fine now."
Dylan stepped inside, brow furrowed. "Where were you?"
The doppelganger exhaled shakily.
"I—I was taken. The one who looked like Jade… it wasn't him. I realized too late."
They exchanged glances.
It continued, "He brought me somewhere remote. There were voices… dark rituals. I was tied up. I think they wanted to use me for something, but I escaped. I found a road and got help."
Vlad's gaze narrowed.
"You escaped? On your own?"
"I don't know how long I was unconscious… but yes. Alone."
"How convenient," Vlad murmured.
The doppelganger looked at him. "What?"
"You show up just as we're preparing to go after you," Oregon said—not unkindly. "Strange timing."
"I didn't know anyone was coming for me," it replied, voice barely above a whisper.
Oregon extended his hand.
"Your wrist."
A flicker of hesitation.
Then it showed him. The elven mark was there—glowing faintly.
But Oregon felt nothing.
"Don't worry about me, okay? Just… let me rest."
The doppelganger shut the door.
The group convened just outside the manor.
Oregon was the first to speak.
"Something's wrong. The bond… it isn't responding."
Vlad's gaze sharpened.
"I hear no heartbeat when she walks past."
"She didn't smell right," Dylan added.
Then suddenly the front gate creaked open. Jade stepped into the courtyard, voice low and steady.
"What if it's not her?" he said.
Everyone turned.
Jade's eyes met theirs—grim, unwavering. "Remember. It happened to me. Someone pretending to be me…"
Xander's voice was a growl.
"A doppelganger?"
Jade nodded once. "It's possible."
"Then where's the real Leighton?" Oregon asked, voice tight.
No one answered.
"Come," Jade said. "Before it's too late."
He led the group back inside.
The doppelganger sat on the edge of the bed, pretending to read.
When they entered, it looked up with my exact expression of surprise.
"Is something wrong?" it asked.
No one replied.
Xander stepped forward.
He rolled up his sleeve and said.
"If you're really Leighton," he said slowly, "then tell me what I told you the night I saved you."
The doppelganger blinked.
"You said… you loved me."
"Wrong," Xander said coldly.
In a blur, Vlad was behind it, hand clasped tightly around its neck.
The creature hissed, illusion unraveling—revealing a face that wasn't Leighton.
The doppelganger snarled, shoving Vlad backward with unnatural strength.
A fight exploded into motion—magic against steel, fire clashing with fang and fury.
But the four of them fought as one.
Overwhelmed, the creature was pinned against the wall. It laughed, blood trailing down its chin.
"You're too late," it whispered.
"She's already bound. The ritual has begun. You'll never find her in time."
And with a final grin, it crumbled into ash.
Leaving only silence.
And rising panic.