Dark Obsession

CHAPTER TWO: Mirror Soul

Gabriel and Goshen.

From the moment they opened their eyes to the world, they became the center of everyone’s attention. With identical curls of dark brown hair, piercing amber eyes, and the kind of beauty that seemed almost unreal, the twins were like living art—perfectly matched, perfectly inseparable.

Lucian spoiled them with everything money could buy—custom-built cribs, designer clothes, an endless parade of nannies and tutors. Helen, their gentle and soft-spoken mother, poured all the love she had into raising them. And Irene, though she smiled and played the role of the doting grandmother, always watched them with quiet intensity. Her eyes searched their faces for signs of what was to come, never forgetting the prophecy that haunted her dreams.

From an early age, Gabriel and Goshen showed an unusual bond. They didn’t cry unless they were apart. They refused to sleep unless they were lying side by side. Even as toddlers, they shared everything instinctively—food, toys, even attention.

They spoke their own strange language before they could speak English. Their laughter sounded the same, their steps were in rhythm, and sometimes, one would feel pain the other had.

It was beautiful. And strange.

By the time they were five, it was clear they were different from other children.

Where Gabriel was quiet and thoughtful, Goshen was wild and adventurous. Gabriel would sit and stare at the stars, asking questions about the universe that no one expected from a child. Goshen, meanwhile, would race through the hallways of their mansion with reckless energy, dragging Gabriel along on every adventure.

But no matter how different they were, they were never apart.

Lucian often called them “mirror souls.” He didn’t believe in fate, but even he couldn’t deny how deeply connected his sons were.

“They're just close,” he would say when Irene raised an eyebrow. “Brothers are supposed to be.”

Irene never argued. She just watched. And waited.

As the years passed, the twins only grew more captivating. At age ten, they had their own fan club at school. Girls followed them around, giggling. Teachers constantly mixed them up—even when they wore name tags. And yet, even with the attention, Gabriel and Goshen remained uninterested in anyone but each other.

It wasn’t until they turned thirteen that Irene began to worry again.

That year, something changed.

The twins were invited to a birthday party. It was the first time they were allowed to attend a social event outside the watchful eyes of their family. Irene had tried to convince Lucian to say no, but he dismissed her concerns.

“They’re boys, Mother. Let them have fun.”

So they went.

When they returned that evening, something was different. They were quiet. Too quiet.

Irene saw it immediately. Gabriel kept stealing glances at Goshen, and Goshen refused to meet his eyes. Their laughter—the music that always filled the house—was gone.

Later that night, Irene overheard them arguing for the first time.

“She kissed me first,” Goshen had snapped.

“You knew I liked her,” Gabriel hissed. “You always take what’s mine.”

“I didn’t take her. She wanted it. Don’t blame me for something you couldn’t handle.”

Silence followed. A long, painful silence.

Irene pressed her hand to her chest. The prophecy was beginning to take root.

The next day, they acted like nothing had happened. But Irene saw the cracks. Small ones, yes, but real. She noticed how they avoided talking about girls after that. How they never dated, never let any relationship last more than a few days. Whenever one of them tried, it always ended in confusion, jealousy… or worse.

By the time they were sixteen, it had become a pattern.

Whenever Gabriel liked a girl, Goshen found himself drawn to her too. Sometimes without even realizing it. And somehow, no matter how careful they were, the girls always ended up between them—tangled, unsure, and eventually, gone.

The girls left ashamed. Confused. Some felt used. Some were simply afraid. None of them stayed.

It became a quiet curse.

Lucian called it “teenage drama.” Helen blamed the girls for being “too impressionable.” But Irene knew better.

The prophecy was unfolding exactly as the seer had warned.

But what haunted her the most was the timeline.

The girl meant for them—the one neither could resist, the one who was destined to love them both—was out there now.

Five years old.

Growing. Waiting. Unaware that her life was already written in the stars.

And the boys? They were getting closer to the age when their paths would cross hers.

Despite the tension between them, Gabriel and Goshen remained close. They fought, yes—but they forgave easily. Their love for each other had not disappeared. It had simply grown complicated.

They were still brothers. Still bound by blood and something deeper than that.

But now… they were also bound by a shadow neither of them could see.

A shadow called destiny.

And Irene—still silent, still watching—knew the time was drawing near.

She prayed harder than ever. She begged whatever gods were listening to find a way to free them. To rewrite the future.

But deep inside, she feared the truth.

Some stories are chosen before birth.

And some obsessions… are too dark to break.