The scene blurs, smoke and ash fading away like a bad dream, replaced by cool mist and stone the colour of ivy and storm clouds. Twelve years ago. Necrokeep. Everything here was touched by that deep, distinctive dark green—moss creeping over fortress walls, stained glass that turned sunlight pale and cold, the velvet trim on every banner hanging in the royal halls. It was a place built to stand forever, and inside it lived two girls who could not have been more different if they were born on opposite sides of the world. Hestia was twelve then, already carrying herself like the queen she would one day be. Born to the throne, guarded by dozens, taught that her purpose was to hold this fortress together no matter what came knocking. Strong, honourable, fiercely protective—but she saw the world exactly how the books told her it should be. Alice was also twelve. No last name, no family record, no one to claim her. Found swaddled at the outer gate hours after she was born, raised in the quiet corners of the keep by servants who treated her with kindness but never with warmth. She grew up fast, quiet and sharp, watching everyone like she was memorising their weak spots. And already, strange things happened around her: an extra hand would appear to catch a falling pitcher, or trip a boy who tried to throw stones at her, before vanishing like it was never there. They clashed from the moment they first spoke. "You only follow the rules because everyone tells you to," Alice had snapped once, after Hestia had scolded her for wandering into the forbidden archives. "If this place ever truly needs saving, all your etiquette and royal lessons won't stop a single blade." "And you act like nothing matters because no one ever cared enough to teach you how to belong," Hestia shot back, her voice steady but burning with frustration. "You hate everyone here just because you refuse to let anyone in." It was always like that: training matches where Alice used her powers in clever, unfair ways to outmanoeuvre her; debates where Alice tore apart everything Hestia believed in; moments where they'd cross paths in the courtyard and turn away at the exact same time, neither willing to give an inch. Hestia had her status and her duty. Alice had nothing but her wits and her strange, growing strength. They resented each other deeply—and deep down, they were the only ones who truly understood just how powerful the other was becoming. By the time Alice turned fifteen, her powers had fully bloomed exactly how they always would: at will, she could grow arms and hands anywhere she wanted—across walls, over gaps, wrapping around weapons or throats or treasures, as many as she needed, appearing out of thin air with perfect control. She could bind an entire squad or pick a lock from twenty paces away. It made her dangerous, and it made the guards watch her even closer. "You're wasting that gift," Hestia told her one rainy afternoon, standing at the battlements looking out toward the blighted lands beyond. "Father says you could serve this kingdom as one of our greatest wardens." Alice laughed, a sharp bitter sound. "Serve? Or be locked away where no one has to look at the orphan with the freaky tricks? I was never part of this place, Hestia. I'm just something it keeps around until it decides I'm too much trouble." She turned and walked away before Hestia could reply. Even back then, Alice knew she would not stay here forever. Necrokeep had walls strong enough to hold back armies, but they were a cage to her. Three more years passed. Alice was eighteen now, harder, colder, seeing every flaw in the kingdom that raised her and every crack in the peace they pretended to keep. And then, one grey dawn, horns began to scream from every tower. Smoke began to rise far out on the horizon. And marching toward the unbreakable walls of Necrokeep came an army the likes of which no one had ever seen—burning shadow, iron, and the banners of the Abyss. The raid had begun. Alice stood on a high balcony watching the first fires light up the outer farmlands. Beside her, Hestia had gone pale, already barking orders to rally defences. For one heartbeat their eyes met across the stonework. No insults, no rivalry—just the quiet understanding that everything they knew was about to break. But while everyone else grabbed swords or ran for shelter, Alice turned her back to the walls she'd known her whole life. If this world was going to burn anyway, she decided, she would go straight to the fire itself.

Chapter 2: Twin/Twisted Reality