Rhydian;

"No... It’s not." I agree, but continue anyway.

"But what is my business... is the fact that something is wrong," I state, and that makes her look back at me.

She stares squarely at me, and this time, I don’t look away.

"I’m not going to pretend everything is okay because I have no proof," I say, and her mouth falls open.

"And I’m also not going to pretend I have no idea what I’m talking about," I add.

This time, I look away from her.

"I have ignored my instincts before... And that cost me more than I was willing to lose," I add quietly as I look back up at her.

Her expression softens just a fraction, but she still doesn’t say a word.

"Igma, I’m not making that mistake again, and I need you to walk this path with me. I have no proof, but I can feel it in my bones that I’m right." I speak again, and silence follows.

She studies me for a long moment, searching my face like she’s trying to decide whether I’m serious or just yapping some nonsense.

And finally, she speaks.

"What is this about?"

"Bram is missing," I state flatly, and she pauses.

"What!?" She demands, but I’m not done.

"Yes, Igma. He’s been gone for weeks now. And this... ’Alana’..." I begin but stop.

Declining the thread carefully.

"This ’Alana’ is... wrong," I whisper, and she frowns immediately.

"What do you mean by—"

"I don’t think that’s Alana, Igma." I cut her off, and she goes still.

The words hit her like a blow. I see it in the way her expression shifts—confusion and disbelief clashing wildly behind her eyes.

"That’s ridiculous," She says quickly, and I let out a breath.

"What do you mean she’s not Alana? Are you hearing yourself? How would that even be possible? It’s not like she has a twin—"

"Magic," I reply simply, and she pauses, then scoffs.

"Rhydian, be serious. So what are you insinuating? That... that’s Bram? Bram!? Rhydian, no single detail is amiss. Every expression, freckles, indent... everything is the same. How could someone else look exactly like—" She begins, but I need her to see last what’s in front of her, and listen to me.

"Looking like her isn’t the problem," I interrupt, and that stops her.

"We’ve read books. We know magic can do many things. Cloning people isn’t something they can’t do. They can create the copy, but making the copy act like her?? Now, that’s where the problem is." I explain, and Igma falls silent.

"Igma, this Alana is different. Alana doesn’t act like that," I note.

"And I’m pretty sure for you to be sitting here, crying after talking to her, you would have noticed some... things. Things that point out to you that she’s not... her." I whisper, and Igma’s lips press together, and she looks away from me.

I watch her closely, and I start to see it happening— the pieces connecting slowly... Reluctantly. But I still need to push some more.

"She didn’t answer your letters," I add, and Igma look back at me.

"She avoided you all day. And when you finally got her alone... she pushed you away hard enough to make sure you wouldn’t come back." I add, and I watch her gaze drop slightly.

"Was Alana ever discourteous with you?" I ask, watching her carefully, and her head lifts immediately.

"No. Never." She says, firmly, and I let out a breath.

"Exactly," I reply, and her lips part slightly.

"And Bram?" I continue.

"Last we knew, he was desperate. He probably realised he was cornered. He is the kind of person willing to do anything to survive." I add, and pause.

I let that sit.

Then I add ever so quietly,

"If he had a way to hide in plain sight... he would take it."

Igma exhales slowly, her hand tightening slightly against her lap.

"That would mean..." she starts, then trails off.

"That the real Alana isn’t here," I finish, and the implication of those words presses heavily against us. Because we both understand what they imply.

Igma swallows.

Her voice is quieter when she speaks again.

"That would mean she’s... somewhere else." She repeats. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

"Yes."

"Hurt?"

"I don’t know," I reply honestly.

I know it’s not a comforting truth... But it is, what it is...

Igma’s gaze drops again, her fingernails digging into her palm this time as her fists curl tighter.

For a moment, I think she’s going to break down in tears... But she doesn’t.

She steadies herself... The way she always does.

When she finally looks back at me, there’s something different in her eyes.

Not just pain... but anger, and resolve.

"What do we do?" she asks, and a proud smile splits my face.

That’s the Igma I know.

I lean back slightly, lifting my gaze to the moonlit, starry sky.

"I’ve been watching him," I say.

"Bram?"

"Alana... Or whatever he’s pretending to be," I reply. IIgma’s expression tightens slightly at that, but she nods.

"He’s careful, but not perfect," I explain, and Igma leans forward a bit as she stares at me.

"Where does he slip?" she asks, and I turn back to her with a knowing smile.

"In the details. In the things he doesn’t think matter." I reply, and she blinks at me.

I tilt my head slightly, my smirk sharpening just a little.

"He also slips in the things he can’t fake," I whisper.

Igma watches me closely now— Waiting... trusting.

"I don’t have proof yet," I admit.

"But I will expose this game of his," I add.

"And when I do... we won’t just expose him. We’ll make sure he doesn’t get away again." I add, as my gaze hardens.

Igma nods slowly. Then she speaks in a much firmer voice.

"Tell me what you need," she says, and I let out a quiet breath. Then, my smirk returns, sharper this time...more certain.

"Oh, I already have a plan," I say before turning to Igma with a shameless grin on my face.