Chapter 59: The Mirror That Lied

The coldness of the floor seeped into Ivy’s skin as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Distant echoes ricocheted around her—an eerie blend of metallic humming, soft murmurs, and the fading sound of Asher's strained breaths. Her head throbbed, her vision doubled, but the last image before she blacked out remained vivid.

Her own face—staring back at her. But not hers.

The clone.

The “perfected” Ivy.

Ivy’s fingers curled weakly as she fought for clarity. Her stomach throbbed, the faint luminescence of the mark on her abdomen still glowing under the fabric. Something had changed. The child inside her was reacting—not to danger—but to the presence of something familiar… and wrong.

She opened her eyes slowly, the sterile lights above blinking like dying stars. The secret corridor was empty now. Asher was gone.

And so was the clone.

With trembling limbs, Ivy pushed herself upright, pain stabbing through her ribs. She pressed a hand against her side—bruised, but not broken.

"Asher," she croaked, the name echoing down the corridor.

No response.

She staggered forward, each step dragging like lead. The corridor curved left, then right, before opening into a cavernous room she hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t part of the Sanctuary’s original blueprint. This was older. Hidden beneath layers of fabricated history.

A lab.

Vats of suspended embryos floated behind thick glass, each labeled with a date and a code that sent chills through Ivy’s core: IV-Alpha. IV-Beta. IV-Prime.

They weren’t just cloning her.

They were modifying her.

Somewhere above her, Asher gasped back to life. His ribs screamed in protest, but adrenaline shoved him to his feet. The corridor was empty. His weapon—gone. Blood smeared his shirt.

"IVY!" he shouted, fear thick in his voice.

A movement caught his eye. A shadow ducked around a corner, silent and quick.

Not the clone.

Someone else.

He followed, pulse thundering. Down a rusted stairwell. Through a steel hatch. Into what looked like an old security room.

There, sitting calmly at a terminal, was Jaxon—his younger brother. Thought to be dead for years after a failed extraction mission.

Jaxon didn’t turn around.

“You’re late,” he said.

Asher’s heart dropped. “You’re alive?”

Jaxon stood and faced him. Same eyes. Same smirk. But darker. Hollow.

“They’ve been watching Ivy for years,” Jaxon said. “And you? You’ve been playing right into their hands.”

Ivy moved cautiously through the lab, mind racing with questions. A console blinked to life near a central chamber.

Curiosity overrode fear.

She approached, pressing the blinking icon.

A voice file loaded.

“Subject IV-Prime shows advanced compatibility. Memory transfer initiated. Emotional anchors preserved.”

Her heart dropped.

Memory transfer?

Were the clones carrying her thoughts—her pain, her memories?

The implications were terrifying.

Then a second file played—corrupted but decipherable.

“Final override: if Subject refuses integration, replace Asher target with Alt-X.”

Ivy froze.

Replace Asher?

With who?

And what was Alt-X?

Meanwhile, Asher stared at Jaxon, fury and confusion boiling.

“You faked your death?” he demanded.

“No,” Jaxon replied. “They did. I was taken by the Syndicate and remade. A sleeper agent… until I woke up.”

“Why now?”

Jaxon sighed. “Because Ivy’s pregnancy broke their predictions. The child she carries wasn’t supposed to survive. It’s evolving beyond even the Prime model.”

“And you?” Asher growled. “Are you trying to stop it or control it?”

Jaxon met his eyes. “I’m trying to protect my brother from loving a weapon.”

Asher stepped back, shaken. “She’s not a weapon.”

“She’s not who you think she is,” Jaxon said. “Not anymore.”

Back in the lab, the clone appeared again, stepping through a hidden door, her face unreadable.

"You saw the files, didn't you?" she said softly.

Ivy turned to her, heart pounding.

“You’ve stolen my life.”

“I’ve perfected it.”

Ivy clenched her fists. “You’ll never be me.”

“You’re right,” the clone whispered, approaching slowly. “I’m stronger. I don’t flinch when I’m hurt. I don’t fall in love with men who lie. I don’t break.”

“But you’ll never feel,” Ivy said coldly.

The clone smirked. “Feelings are distractions.”

Suddenly, a figure stepped between them—Asher.

“No one touches her,” he growled.

The clone didn’t flinch. “Too late.”

She pressed something in her palm.

Alarms screamed.

Gas hissed from vents above. Ivy covered her mouth. Asher pulled her behind a desk.

“Neurotoxin,” he choked. “We need to get out—now.”

But the doors had sealed.

Through the glass wall, Jaxon appeared, dragging an unconscious guard.

He slammed a button.

Emergency override.

The doors slid open and they stumbled out into a decontamination chamber.

Inside, the clone didn’t move. Immune.

“She knew we’d follow her,” Ivy gasped. “She wanted us here.”

Asher turned to Jaxon. “You said you wanted to protect me.”

“I did.”

“Then tell me now—what’s Alt-X?”

Jaxon hesitated.

And then said:

“It’s you, Asher.”

Ivy looked between the two brothers. “What does he mean?”

Jaxon stepped forward. “You weren’t the first Asher.”

“No,” Ivy whispered.

Jaxon continued, “You’re the 10th. They’ve been using memory templates from the original to remake you over and over… until they found a version Ivy would bond with.”

Asher staggered back, his world crumbling.

“I’m… not real?”

“You’re real enough,” Ivy said fiercely, grabbing his hand. “You’re my Asher.”

But the damage was done.

And then came the final blow.

A voice echoed through the hallway.

“Initiating Termination Protocol: All failed assets will be purged.”

Lights dimmed. Red sirens flared.

“They’re wiping the facility,” Jaxon said, eyes wide. “We’re all targets now.”

They ran, the facility groaning beneath them. Explosions rocked the walls. Systems failed.

Ivy held tightly to Asher’s hand.

“We’re getting out. Together,” she said.

But as they neared the upper level exit, the clone blocked their path, holding a detonator and a strange crystal pulsing with energy.

“You walk through that door,” she said, “and everything behind it dies.”

“I’m not playing games,” Ivy warned.

“This isn’t a game,” the clone whispered. “It’s your child’s future. And you’ll have to choose between him… and the world.”

She pressed the crystal into Ivy’s palm—and disappeared into thin air.

The door creaked open.

And what lay on the other side… was not the outside world.

It was the inside of a Syndicate command room—walls lined with Ivy’s face in different stages, watching her.

A thousand eyes.

A thousand lies.

And a voice whispered in her ear:

“Welcome home.”