The Triplet Alphas' Curse: Rejected by the Wolfless Luna.

"You’re requested." A young dark fae approached Aire, breaking her train of thought.

Aire immediately stood up. She sniffed, and threw her emotions to the back of her mind, and folded the dark fae without asking any question.

The further they walked away from Lysander’s chamber corridor, the more Aire felt that something was wrong.

Aire knew it before she reached the council chamber.

Every servant she passed lowered their heads quickly, which was unusual. Even the guards standing beneath the black pillars refused to look directly at her.

Her footsteps slowed.

The enormous obsidian doors at the end of the corridor stood open.

She crossed the threshold, and walked into the vast chamber before her.

Its ceiling disappeared into darkness where crystal chandeliers floated like captured constellations. Black banners bearing the crest of the Dark Fae hung motionless despite the wind she could hear somewhere high above.

Vaelor stood beside the throne.

Several generals occupied the lower steps.

None acknowledged her arrival. Aire swallowed, realizing this was another council chamber she had never come across.

Their attention remained fixed upon someone standing in the center of the room.

The person back was turned toward her. The lady also has long straight silver hair reaching the waist.

Aire stopped walking.

Her heartbeat stumbled.

She blinked once, and the figure remained.

She frowned. There were mirrors in this realm now?

She stared at the person before her properly. The shoulders, the height, the build, and everything looked exactly like her.

The figure slowly turned.

Time immediately stopped for Aire. Her lungs emptied.

She stared straight into silver eyes. Her silver eyes. Her eyes went down to the person’s lips.

She could also see the faint freckle beneath her right eye on this person. Aire froze.

It was her.

Not someone similar, or someone disguised poorly. This was her standing before her, alive, breathing, and looking directly at her.

The chamber disappeared.

She could hear nothing except the violent pounding of her own heart.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice low as her eyes sharpened with anger. "What are you doing with my appearance?"

The woman tilted her head exactly the way Aire always did when confused.

Then, she smiled and Aire’s stomach twisted violently. That was her smile. Someone else was wearing it.

"No..." Her voice cracked.

The woman began walking toward her. Every movement matched her own perfectly.

Even the sway of her hair, the length of each stride, and the way she held her shoulders were very accurate.

Aire took one involuntary step backwards, then she took another until her back struck the enormous chamber doors.

She couldn’t breathe. "What..." Her voice failed. She tried again. "What..." Her voice failed her again.

The woman stopped only inches away, close enough for Aire to see every tiny detail of her own face.

Everything was an impossible perfection. Worse, this wasn’t an illusion. It was her.

The woman’s lips moved. The voice that emerged from her belonged to Lysander. "Good morning." He or she said.

Aire’s world shattered.

She stared. Then without thinking, she lunged, and both hands grabbed the woman’s shoulders violently.

"No!" She yelled. Her fingers shook uncontrollably as she violently reached behind the left ear.

Her fingertips searched desperately, and they unfortunately found what they were looking for.

She found the tiny half-moon birthmark exactly where hers had always been.

Her knees almost gave way, and her breathing became frantic. She stumbled backwards before surging forward again.

Both hands seized his face.

She rubbed desperately at the skin, as though it might peel away, or she would find Lysander.

Everyone around let her. They fount it entertaining, especially Morrigan.

Nothing changed.

He simply watched her calmly, and almost curiously. Her fingernails dug into her own cheeks.

She scratched him hard. Thin red lines appeared, and then, they vanished, healing immediately.

Aire gasped. "No!" She shoved him violently. "You—" She shoved him again. "What—"

She shoved him harder, her head spinning. "What have you done?"

She struck his chest repeatedly, and the blows meant nothing. He didn’t even move. Around them, no one intervened.

Vaelor watched, and the generals remained silent. They all stood by like spectators observing a performance.

Aire finally grabbed both sides of his face.

Tears blurred her vision. "What have you done?" Her voice broke completely. "What have you done?"

She searched desperately for something. Perhaps, some crack in the illusion. Yet, she found nothing. This was her.

Her own face looked back at her.

She sobbed. "What have you done..." Her fingers loosened his face. "What have you done..." Another sob escaped her. "Lyse?"

The name echoed softly through the chamber. The name slipped out before she could stop it. The name of the man she had trusted, and believed existed.

Lysander looked at her with perfect calm.

"I told you." His voice came from her own mouth. Hearing it made bile rise into her throat. "I could enter your realm."

He slowly lifted one elegant hand. He studied her hand, which he now possessed, and turned it beneath the light.

He flexed each finger individually.

"Remarkable." His tone carried quiet fascination as he gleamed at it. "The resemblance is flawless."

Aire couldn’t stop shaking.

He smiled, and that was her smile.

"I understand now why Morrigan enjoyed this gift."

Aire snapped. A raw animalistic heartbroken scream tore out of her lips. She threw herself at him again.

This time she clawed, punched, and hit him, trying desperately to erase her own face from existence.

"You monster!" She hit him again. "You monster!"

Lysander caught both wrists effortlessly, still wearing her face. He looked almost gentle, which somehow made everything worse.

"Enough." He yelled at her with her voice.

She struggled wildly. "Let me go!"

"You’ll hurt yourself."

She froze at how comforting and sick he sounded. She felt sick, violently sick. She ripped one wrist free, then slapped him hard.

No one still said a word.

His head turned slightly. Slowly, he looked back at her. His expression hadn’t changed, only his eyes turned cold.

"So emotional." He mocked.

Aire stared at him hard, as tears now left her eyes. He had promised herself never to cry in this realm but she never imagined them taking their cruelty this far.

He stepped closer.

Every instinct inside Aire screamed.

It felt wrong watching herself move independently, and watching someone else breathe through her nose.

It felt so wrong watching someone else blink with her eyes.

He stopped directly before her. "So this..." He looked down at his borrowed body. "is what you’ve been protecting."

He laughed softly. "I understand now."

Aire covered her ears. It didn’t help. The voice still belonged to her. "Stop..." She whispered.

He continued anyway. "You feared I’d replace you." He smiled coldly. "You were right."

Tears streamed uncontrollably down Aire’s face. She couldn’t stop them.

"I said stop..."

He ignored her. He tucked one strand of silver hair behind his ear. That was her habit.

"I rather enjoy this."

She broke completely. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the black marble floor with both hands covered her face.

Violent sobs tore through her chest.

She couldn’t breathe, or think. If someone else could become her so perfectly... Then what remained uniquely hers?

"What have you done..." She whispered again through broken breaths. "What have you done..."

She touched her own face. Her fingers trembled against her familiar skin. Which one of them was real? If someone walked into the chamber now... Would they choose him?

"Aire." a gentle voice called her in her head. Her sobbing stopped instantly.

She looked up. No one had spoken.

Vaelor hadn’t reacted. Morrigan smirk remained, but she hadn’t said a word. Neither had Lysander.

They continued watching her, visibly enjoying her tears.

"Aire." The voice came again. Her heartbeat quickened, and she looked around the chamber wildly.

The voice returned, closer this time. "Give him one strand." the voice ordered softly, almost coaxing.

Her entire body froze.

"Give him your hair. Just a strand." the voice urged.

Her eyes widened in horror. She shook her head violently. Aire stared into empty space, wondering if she was beginning to hallucinate.

She couldn’t tell what was real or fake anymore.

Terror slowly replaced grief.

What was happening? Why would anyone ask that of her? After everything?

Her breathing grew shallow.

She slowly looked toward Lysander who was still wearing her face, then back toward the empty chamber.

The voice had vanished.

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