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Imogen thought the confession would lift a weight off her chest, filter the guilt that ebbed at her very soul, but it only burrowed deeper as the cavern grew silent. Eyes pierced into her and Imogen tried to shield further into the vines; other plants browned and crumbled to the ground, revealed a new path. A confirmation that the universe heard her cry. That the people around her had stopped their own for a reason.
They’d gotten over this weeks ago, the god debate. She smiled and nodded and agreed, anything to tell them that her moral compass wasn’t aimlessly spinning, sending her down a path of fear and confusion.
Then someone else spoke, and Imogen tried to lock away the emotions that had spilled from her chest, like stopping a waterfall with a branch. She swallowed thickly, let her hands find whatever holds the truths presented, and tried to ignore the burning in her mind that told her she just should’ve stayed quiet.
Imogen collapsed to the ground the minute it was solid. Her hands trembled as she lifted them from the dirt, put them behind her back to grasp the fabric of her skirt as she followed the Hells. Spirits were high, they were victorious, and Imogen felt that energy hit a wall that surrounded her, separating her from the rest.
Imogen was fine. Laudna, Ashton and Chetney were the ones to admit hardships, ones that deserved the group’s concern. Her mommy issues and skewed morals weren’t their responsibility. Static overtook the lack of conversation and Imogen tried not to rub her temple. It had been a while, but she could handle it. She had to. Never again would she make the mistake of not being prepared, the anchor her friends so desperately needed.
Laudna’s hand threaded into her own and she needed her to notice the clamminess, the grip she maintained as if holding any looser would allow the wind to carry her away. She loved Laudna, truly loved her. She wondered if what she said earlier hurt her. If she took it wrong. The furrow of her girlfriend’s brow, the way she adjusted their hands every few seconds, told Imogen everything she needed to know. Another hit to her chest. Should’ve stayed quiet, shouldn’t have said anything.
The hand was gone by the third trial. Imogen stared into the pool of water and wondered how long it would take for her reflection to distort. Her scars stood out painfully against the blue-hued mirror. She rubbed her arm until it felt raw.
“Ready, darling?” Laudna asked tentatively, hand outstretched but not quite reaching. Imogen closed the distance and nodded, squeezed her hand in reassurance. She could do that.
It was a blur, as they turned the corner and Laudna let go of her hand. She blinked and she was floating, world passing in a blur that fed the nausea already sat in her gut. Imogen stumbled to the ground as she came back to it. The familiar visage of Nana Morri stood, both faces grinning widely.
“Ah, my first doppelganger has done their job, then. Wonderful.” She said happily, the face below echoing, “wonderful.”
Imogen’s heart dropped to her stomach. She tried to bring saliva up to coat her dry mouth. Morri’s head tilted. “Are you worried, small one? Not trusting?”
Imogen watched as another apparated. Within the blink of an eye, Orym sat before her, and looked at Imogen in confusion. “You were taken out?”
She nodded. Orym’s face contorted to concern. “I’m sorry we didn’t notice.”
“It’s alright,” Imogen said, tried to ignore the inkling that the words held more gravity than just the scavenger hunt. “It’s only been a moment, plus, y’all were busy.”
A question crawled up Imogen’s throat, scrambled for purchase. “Did…Did Laudna notice?”
She knew the answer before Orym said it. “No. But it’s only been a bit, you said it yourself. They’ll figure it out.”
Imogen tried her best to believe him.
Orym was gone within ten minutes. Sent back to the group with his doppelganger forced out, his memory wiped of the swap. Morri dismissed it and her neck craned as it bowed close to Imogen’s face. “Hmm, it seems you were a good choice.”
The smile Imogen forced felt wrong. “Guess so.”
“You want to see?” Morri asked, and her lower face took over. “See why they don’t know?”
Imogen wanted to say no.
“Sure.”
Nana’s hands waved and her vision was sucked into a void of color before it settled. The group maneuvered and conversed and…Laudna’s hand was firmly held in her double’s. Something curdled in Imogen’s chest and she tried to will herself out of the vision.
Laudna slowed down for a moment and turned to the doppelganger. “Are you alright, darling? Earlier was quite stressful. I just want to check in.”
“Always am, with you.” Her copy’s voice was lilted, airy. Laudna grinned.
“Wonderful. Now, let’s find these sticks.”
Imogen was pulled out of the vision and it took her a second to realize that her cheeks were wet. She wiped them away furiously, tried not to jump at the large claw that curled around her shoulder. “It seems that trust will have to come into play, soon.”
Even Morri seemed to pity her. It was because of Imogen that the hunt was halted, the reason she was thrown into the mix with the doppelganger, the Hells scrutinizing them both. They argued amongst themselves and Imogen wanted to shake their shoulders until they realized.
“Ask her something only Imogen would know.”
“They’ve been studying us, that won’t work.”
“How do you know?”
“Do they have our memories, or just our mannerisms?”
Imogen clenched her fists, fought the tears valiantly as they tried to fall.
“You could just ask, you know. Find out.” The other Imogen pitched in, accent all too perfect.
“Hm. I suppose so.” Fearne cracked her knuckles. “What’s your greatest fear?”
“Fearne, you gotta ask things that are obvious,” Ashton scolded. Imogen thought of every time she contemplated flashing her fears like fireworks, only to tuck them away in stead of another’s.
“If it’s too obvious, then it’s easy.”
“We still have no clue what the copies know.”
The Hells continued to argue as Orym turned to Laudna, tugged on her sleeve. “Would you know the answer?”
“Yes,” Laudna said, before her face seemed to crumble slightly. “I don’t think I know anymore.”
Should’ve just stayed quiet. Laudna doubted them, doubted her, and it made Imogen want to hunch over and spill her breakfast.
“Laud,” she started, stopped when all eyes turned to her. She twisted her fingers and let the rawness of her skin distract from the gnawing pain in her chest.
“Why don’t we know this?” Orym threw his arms up. “It’s Imogen, for crying out loud.”
A silence settled over the group and Imogen just wanted the day to be over. She wanted to curl up in bed and pretend none of this ever happened. She spent so much time assuring the others of their worth to the group that she never considered hers.
“It’s alright,” the doppelganger told them with a practiced smile. She chuckled, in a way that sounded nearly identical to the real thing. “I’m scared, to tell you the truth. I know I try to be y’all’s tether but it gets to be too much. ‘M worried that it’ll blow up in my face. Or in my dreams.”
It was so easy for fake-Imogen to say. For the group to send her looks of adoration and care, like they knew what she meant. Like they had made their decision. Imogen scrambled to come up with something; her voice was hoarse as she only got out, “I…yeah.”
Laudna took a step towards the doppelganger before it twisted, and Imogen swore her insides did too. The creature was left in the spot her copy previously was and the group froze. That silence returned, the one that made the static pierce Imogen’s mind louder, more painful. Her vision dimmed in time with her heartbeat, mind clouded with noise, noise, noise.
“Shit.” Someone muttered under their breath. Imogen heard it in both her mind and theirs, the abundance of thoughts held back by Morri’s magic rushing back. She received guilt and regret and she covered her ears, pressed her lips together tightly.
“Imogen,” Laudna whispered. She grasped Imogen’s arm, face a blur beyond the wall that obscured her vision. “I’m so sorry.”
Imogen was fine. She was fine, this all was a misunderstanding, she—
She couldn’t stand to be there any longer.
Imogen turned on a whim, tugged out of Laudna’s grasp and ran as far as her body could carry her before giving out. She tumbled to the ground in a heap of short breaths and panicked cries.
Imogen felt something snap inside her, a thread snipped, a piece unlodged. She recalled the times she pushed down her own terror, her own confessions, to aid another person who she thought needed support more. They were falling apart and she was holding still, the cracks spreading wide and large but never close enough to crumble. She didn’t need to express a fear that everyone already discussed, didn’t need to tell them about another dream, because none of it mattered. Imogen was okay and others weren’t and she could help.
Imogen clutched her chest and prayed once more, knowing that her words would dissipate into the air with no acknowledgement. But that pang in her chest just got stronger, and she cried for the fear, and the abandonment, and the strength. She didn’t want to be strong anymore. Strong hurt. Strong put a wedge between her and those she cared about. Strong shoved her into the dirt and let her friends use her as a pedestal.
Imogen was so tired. She dragged herself back to the manor and into the room of purples and reds, collapsed onto the bed. She clutched the blanket close to catch the pour of her bleeding heart. Curled into the bed and willed it to hold her together like her telekinesis had Ashton.
Footsteps approached and the familiar strums of music filled Imogen’s mind with a calm she almost didn’t want to welcome. But the chords were sharp and frantic, and Imogen found that, by instinct, she wanted to do everything in her power to shift them back to their gentle notes.
“Imogen,” Laudna murmured as she approached. A weight dipped the bed and a hand landed on Imogen’s shoulder. She heard Laudna sigh. “I don’t know what to do to make this better.”
Imogen bit back a sob. Should’ve stayed quiet, shouldn’t have confessed, shouldn’t have broken a dam with no place to go.
“Stop.” Laudna cut through her thoughts.
Of course her mental barrier was flaky, relying on the circlet reverted her to a decade ago, her powers out of control. Times she threw out magic that burned her fingertips, wild and listless. She clenched her fists as she remembered the sensation of pins and needles, crawling up her arms and down her legs.
“You deserve as much respite as you provide for us.” Laudna’s fingers traced the winding paths of her scars. “And I’m sorry we’ve been too wrapped up in our own struggles to see yours.”
Imogen bit back the instinct to tell Laudna it was okay. Instead, she whispered, “you didn’t notice.”
The music grew somber. “No, I didn’t.”
“Why?” Imogen hated how meek, unsure her voice sounded. How it burrowed down to the bone.
“I don’t know.”