The underground prison buzzed with uneasy whispers as knights and experts paced, their faces shadowed with confusion. Despite hours of examination, the imposter remained an enigma. No one could definitively explain who—or what—she was.
Above ground, the emperor's chambers were a whirlwind of activity. The aftermath of the battle left the room in disarray, yet attendants bustled to restore order. Argider sat on the bed beside Fialova, her injured arm nestled in a sling. The Duke's healing magic had mended much of the damage, but the lingering ache reminded Argider of the chaos from earlier.
"I swear, if I had a twin sister, someone would've told me by now," Fialova grumbled, fidgeting as an attendant adjusted the hem of her gown. Her golden dress shimmered with embroidery of lightning bolts, a nod to her bestowed magic. "This is ridiculous."
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