Chapter 56: The Countdown Begins

The glow from Ivy’s mark faded slowly, leaving a strange, pulsing warmth behind. She collapsed onto the couch, breath shallow, skin clammy. Asher was already dialing someone on his burner phone, barking orders at whoever was on the other end.

“Secure the perimeter. I want motion sensors active and drones scanning every ten minutes.”

He hung up and knelt beside her. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Ivy clutched her stomach, her voice hoarse. “There was a voice. In my head. It said… we have seven days.”

Asher's expression darkened. “Seven days until what?”

“I don’t know. But I think—” Her voice broke off as another contraction-like pain hit her, even though she wasn’t due yet. “It’s starting. Something’s happening to her.”

Asher stood, pacing. “We need to leave. Now. This place isn’t safe anymore.”

But Ivy wasn’t listening.

Her eyes had locked onto the mark again. The hourglass now shimmered with particles—tiny specks of glowing red sand shifting as if gravity worked differently beneath her skin.

While packing, Ivy found something under the pillow where Neris had slept.

A note.

“He is close. You’ll know him by the way the light avoids him. Trust your instincts. They will try to use his face.”

Her heart hammered. The words felt like a riddle—yet too specific to be coincidence.

She turned to Asher. “We can’t trust anyone. Not even the ones we think we know.”

He stopped what he was doing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She hesitated. “What if someone… looks like someone we know, but isn’t them?”

Asher frowned. “A shapeshifter?”

“No. Something worse.”

Hours later, just before dusk, a knock echoed through the cabin.

Ivy froze.

Asher readied his gun and peeked out the window.

“Impossible,” he muttered.

Standing outside, perfectly calm, was Elias.

Alive.

Unbothered.

Smiling.

“I thought he was dead,” Ivy whispered, backing away.

“So did I,” Asher replied grimly.

He opened the door slowly. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Elias chuckled. “News travels fast. I see my dramatic exit worked.”

Ivy stared at him, her gut twisting. Something was… off. Elias looked the same—but his eyes didn’t. They lacked depth, as if whoever wore his face had never known loss.

“Ivy,” he said, stepping toward her. “I came back for you.”

Asher blocked him. “You’re not Elias.”

The impostor blinked, then smiled wider.

“No,” he whispered, voice darkening. “I’m something older.”

The room went cold. The lights flickered.

And then Elias’s form began to shift.

His skin cracked, revealing black veins and a skeletal shimmer beneath. Eyes turned silver. Voice fractured into a hundred whispers.

“I was born from the prophecy’s first failure,” it said. “And I will ensure this one never fulfills it.”

Ivy screamed, grabbing the vial Neris left behind and hurling it at the creature.

The moment it shattered against him, light burst from the point of contact, forcing him backward with an unholy screech.

Smoke and blood splattered the walls.

When the smoke cleared, he was gone.

Afterward, Asher checked every window and locked every door. But the damage was deeper now—not to the cabin, but to their trust in reality.

“What was that thing?” Ivy asked, hugging herself.

“I don’t know,” Asher replied. “But if it could wear Elias’s face… it could wear anyone’s.”

They sat in silence, the weight of the encounter thick in the air.

Then Ivy looked at him.

“What if it’s already happened? What if the real Elias is still out there… and that thing was trying to keep us from finding him?”

Asher looked back at her, a flicker of guilt in his expression.

And that’s when she saw it.

The tiniest shift.

His eyes—green. But Asher’s were always hazel.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She stood slowly, backing away. “What’s your middle name?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Your middle name. Tell me.”

Asher hesitated.

Too long.

“Ivy, what’s going on?”

She grabbed a knife from the counter. “Tell me your middle name.”

“…James,” he finally said.

Wrong.

It was Daniel.

“You’re not him,” she whispered, the knife trembling in her hand.

The thing pretending to be Asher tilted his head—and smiled.

“No,” he said. “But I wore him well.”

She screamed.

And ran.

Ivy burst out of the cabin and into the rain-soaked woods, barefoot, breath ragged. Trees blurred past. Lightning flashed overhead.

She didn’t know where she was going—only that she had to get away.

Behind her, the mimic called her name, its voice warping and twisting through a dozen tones.

Then, out of nowhere, headlights blinded her.

A black SUV screeched to a halt.

The driver’s door flung open.

And there, gun raised, bleeding from the shoulder, was the real Asher.

“Get in!” he shouted.

Ivy dove inside as gunshots erupted behind her.

Asher floored the gas.

And the mimic screamed, its voice echoing through the forest like death itself.