My Doppelganger Mate

Chapter 2

“So tell us, Atlas, and please make haste, for my wife’s body is still in recovery. What was it you had to tell us in private? It has to be urgent,” he asked Atlas, who was standing before Malick and Gaia.

He was wearing a grey and white robe wrapped around his neck down to his toes. He held a staff in his right hand to aid his walking and prevent him from falling, due to his blind eyes. He was a man in his early seventies, with long white hair on his head and beard. There were many stories that the moment he lost his eyes was the beginning of his prophecy journey. He was called The Great Oracle because whatever he prophesied always came to pass. As much as people wanted to hear from him, they also feared his bad prophecies.

“Please, tell us, Atlas. I hope you come bearing good news,” Malick asked again.

“King Malick,” he called gently. He stopped, staring into the air for a while before shifting his face toward the baby’s position as though he could see them.

“My King, first, I would like to congratulate you on your blessings. I hope they bring forth peace and harmony to the kingdom... and not doom.”

“Doom? Atlas! Be mindful of your words. You know your words hold power.”

“Malick, these are the words of the gods. ‘The stars whispered your daughters’ names before their first breath, but fate is a double-edged sword, and the gods delight in riddles.’”

This made him feel even more mythical.

“Your twins are mythical creatures. They are bestowed on you by the ancestors of your lineage. Two blessings... and two curses are laid upon this family.”

“Curse?” Gaia said faintly. She seemed terrified.

“My Queen, you should be calm. You are still quite weak. I would have preferred you not be present, but you are their mother, and I will be leaving the kingdom this evening—hence the urgency.

“Your offspring are born with a rare type of fate. They are entwined with their mate, whom they are fated to meet on the eve of their 18th birthday.”

“Mate, you say?” Malick asked.

“Bear patience, Malick,” Atlas said. “On the eve of their 18th birthday, the beginning of this kingdom’s doom shall unfold. Their mates are their male doppelgängers—also born twins. It is their destiny to meet on that day, anywhere. Once they meet, one’s hair will turn white, the other’s red. The white-haired must survive to live, while the red-haired must kill for victory. However, one may be more ill-fated than the other, where she meets her mate and her hair changes... but the other’s hair does not.”

“And what’s the ill fate that comes with it?” Gaia asked.

“The one whose hair changes bears both fates. It is left to her to decide what she wishes to become. That is all I have for you. Guard them well. They are your treasure. The two are worthy of the throne—only the lucky one shall claim it.”

As he made his way out of the chamber, he added, “And if you think you can change destiny by your own hands, it is only a deceit to yourself—for the gods already have it all planned out.”

This was always his closing line after every prophecy.

Malick took a long stare into the air before turning toward Gaia. She was already looking pale and gasping for air. It was when Malick saw the big patch of red stain on the sheets that he knew what was happening.

“Gaia!!” he called frantically. “My love! Stay with me!”

“Guards! Guards!!” he bellowed. Three of them rushed in with nurses. “Take a look at her, she’s bleeding!”

“My wife is bleeding!!!” he shouted.

***

“I must confess, Polivian is a real man. His genes are really working perfectly fine,” a man in his 60s said.

“Haha, definitely,” Joel replied.

“I would say they are my blessings. I will forever be grateful for them,” Polivian said as he walked into the gathering in his parlor. He was beaming with so much joy. His wife, Jordyn, had just given birth to bouncing twin boys a few months after their marriage. They had both lived in love and peace despite their humble background.

Polivian, the head goldsmith of the village, captured the hearts of the people with his honesty and diligence. Despite his background, he was never seen as cunning or dishonest. This had earned him the nickname Polivican—the “can” replacing charismatic and noble. He met his wife Jordyn, a florist, in a marketplace a few moons back, and ever since, their love had bloomed.

“Wouldn’t you love to know the boys’ fate? There’s no harm in getting a heads-up on what destiny has in store for them,” another man named Jeremy said.

“Yeah, I agree with what Jeremy just said. There’s no harm, really,” Joel chipped in.

“I really appreciate your concern, gentlemen, but I have no faith in such things. I believe in Christ alone. He is the Savior. He gave them to me. He’s going to lead them aright, too,” Polivian replied.

“We know you’re a believer, but that doesn’t change anything about why you believe,” Anderson said. “There’s no harm in trying,” he added.

“I’ll give it a thought,” Polivian agreed, not wanting to prolong the conversation. He entered the parlor and then into his chambers with a bottle of aged liquor in hand. “And to that, I believe we should celebrate the birth of neonates,” he smiled widely, lifting the liquor in the air.

There was a loud uproar across the room as the men helped themselves to generous servings. Happiness was evident on their faces as they sipped the liquor, as though trying to guess the ingredients used in its making.

“This is a nice drink, I must confess,” Joel said. “It’s perfect for the mood we’re in.”

“Haha, of course,” Anderson laughed.