The figure on the riverbank did not speak.
He didn't have to.
His presence hung in the air like cold metal—heavy, sharp, inevitable.
Ash felt Palo shift slightly in front of him, placing himself between Ash and the copy without thinking. Protective. Instinctive.
The water around them rippled softly in the silence.
Palo whispered, barely moving his lips,
"Don't step out of the creek. Stay behind me."
Ash nodded, though his entire body trembled.
Not from the cold.
From the way the copy tilted his head.
Studying them.
Learning them.
---
Two Reflections, One Wrong
A soft breeze rustled through the leaves.
Then—
finally—
the copy spoke.
Not loud.
Not forceful.
Almost… curious.
"You tried to run."
Palo's hands clenched around Ash's arm.
Ash forced himself to answer.
"Running was the only thing you left me."
The copy stepped closer to the water.
Not into it—just close enough that the moonlight brushed the edges of his face.
Ash's breath hitched.
Palo whispered, "Don't let him draw you out."
But Ash couldn't look away.
The copy's eyes were identical to his.
Same shade.
Same shape.
But colder.
Focused in a way that felt unnatural, as if each second was being measured.
The copy spoke again.
"You found the cabin. You listened to the message."
Ash swallowed.
"Yes."
A faint smile touched the copy's lips.
Not kind.
Not cruel.
Just… knowing.
"Then you know what she feared."
Palo's voice sharpened.
"Back off."
The copy didn't look at Palo.
Not even once.
His attention was locked on Ash.
"She wasn't afraid of me, Ash. She was afraid of you."
Ash shook his head quickly, desperately.
"That's not what she said."
The copy's expression didn't change.
"That's because she lied."
Palo took a step forward, water splashing quietly around him.
"Stop talking."
At this, the copy finally turned to look at Palo.
The shift was small—hardly anything at all.
But Palo felt the temperature drop around him.
The copy's voice lowered.
"You shouldn't be here."
Palo stiffened, but held his ground.
"I'm not leaving."
A longer pause.
Then the copy tilted his head, almost as if analyzing a puzzle.
"…You care about him."
Palo's jaw tightened.
He didn't confirm or deny it.
The copy's gaze returned to Ash.
"That wasn't in the original configuration."
Ash's confusion cracked through his fear.
"What configuration?"
The copy took another slow step toward the edge of the creek.
"The way you were designed to think. To respond. To attach."
Palo whispered urgently,
"Ash, don't listen—he's trying to destabilize you."
Ash shook, unable to silence the fear twisting in his stomach.
"Why are you doing this? Why follow me? Why chase me?"
The copy blinked.
And for the first time, something like emotion flickered across his face.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Something quieter, more complicated.
"Because your existence took something from me."
Ash's pulse spiked.
"What did I take?"
The copy's voice turned almost gentle.
"A life."
Palo pulled Ash slightly behind him.
"That's enough."
The copy ignored him.
"You got the childhood I was made for. The memories meant for me. The world I was supposed to inherit."
Ash shook his head.
"I didn't ask for that."
"No," the copy said softly,
"but you have it."
He took another step toward the water.
The surface trembled.
Palo grabbed Ash's wrist.
"If he enters the creek—run."
Ash whispered,
"He won't. He knows the water interferes with the signal."
The copy seemed to hear that.
He paused at the water's edge.
And then, with a strange calmness, he said:
"You think you understand what you are, Ash."
Ash's breath caught.
"But you haven't learned the question you were built to answer."
Palo's heartbeat slammed in his ears.
"What question?"
The copy raised his hand slowly—
not threateningly, but almost like he was offering something invisible.
The moonlight reflected off water, leaving his expression half-shadowed.
"Which of us deserves to exist?"
Ash staggered backward.
Palo caught him.
The copy's voice softened even further.
"And the tragic part, Ash? For us to find the answer… one of us must not be here when it's over."
Palo's breath stopped.
Ash felt the world tilt around him.
But before either could respond—
A distant echo broke through the trees.
A voice.
Calling Ash's name.
Not the copy.
Not Palo.
Someone else.
Ash flinched hard.
Palo whipped his head around.
"What was that?"
The copy turned sharply toward the sound—
something in his face shifting, darkening.
He whispered, almost to himself:
"…Impossible."
Then—
Without another word—
he vanished into the trees like a shadow dissolving into deeper darkness.
Ash stared after him, shaking.
Palo grabbed his shoulders.
"Ash—who was that voice?"
Ash swallowed, his breath trembling.
"I don't know."
But his expression said something else.
He did know.
Or he feared he knew.
And that terrified him even more than the copy.