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The Twin of my Shadow

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Title : The Twin of my Shadow

Yhalia was no ordinary child. The blood that runs through her veins is a mix of mortal and immortal. She is the strongest and most powerful being in the realm of both mortals and immortals. Yhalia is an ally of what is right and truth.

From the moment she was born, fate had already marked her. Her parents were murdered in the dead of night when she was only a baby, leaving her an orphan without even the memory of their love. She was taken in by her mother’s closest relatives—her Aunt Mercedes and Uncle Elian—who raised her in a quiet, secluded village where secrets hung in the air like mist.

Though they loved her deeply, her aunt and uncle could never quite explain the strange feeling they had about their niece. There was something different about her. Something they couldn’t name. Her wounds healed faster than normal. Animals behaved unusually around her. And sometimes, when she thought no one was listening, she spoke in her sleep—using words no one understood.

Yhalia grew up in silence, solitude, and mystery. She had no childhood friends, not because people disliked her, but because she always kept herself distant. There was a quiet strength in her, and a sense of wisdom far beyond her age. Though she longed to understand who she truly was, she kept her questions to herself, choosing instead to show kindness, diligence, and respect in every way. She was hardworking, helpful, and incredibly clever. But deep inside, there was an ache—a feeling that she didn’t truly belong to the world around her.

What she didn’t yet know was that her blood carried a secret.

Yhalia was the child of a forbidden union. Her mother, Isolde, was a kind-hearted mortal woman. Her father, Kaelen, was not human at all—he was a powerful member of the Nox Aeternum, an ancient and secretive race of vampires who lived hidden among humans. Their love was dangerous, illegal, and unthinkable among Kaelen’s people. And when their relationship was discovered, a death sentence was issued. One night, a group of unknown assassins came, slaughtered Yhalia’s parents, and tried to erase the evidence of their love. But they failed to kill the baby.

Yhalia survived—and with her, a new legacy was born.

As she entered her teenage years, Yhalia began to notice changes. Her senses sharpened. Her strength increased. She could hear whispers from afar and see clearly even in complete darkness. The dreams came next—haunting, vivid visions of people and places she had never known. Each dream pulled her closer to the truth: that she was not just human, and not fully vampire either. She was both. And in that duality, she held unimaginable power.

One day, she discovered a locked box in the attic of their home, hidden beneath old blankets. Inside were letters, photographs, and a dagger carved with ancient runes. Her aunt, finally unable to hide it any longer, told her everything—about her parents, about the vampire clans, and about the war she had been born into without ever knowing.

Yhalia made a vow: she would uncover the truth behind her family’s death and find out who ordered it—and why. She would infiltrate the vampire world from the shadows, and if necessary, bring justice to those who had stolen her past.

But to do this, she had to disappear.

Faking her death in a fire, Yhalia left behind her old life, her name, and the only family she had ever known. She traveled to the city, where the vampire underworld thrived beneath human society. Using both her mortal instincts and vampire blood, she trained in secret—learning the arts of espionage, combat, and supernatural control. She became a ghost in the system. A spy. A silent storm waiting for the right moment to strike.

In the process, she uncovered a deeper war—an internal conflict within the vampire world itself. Some elders believed hybrids like Yhalia were the future of their kind, capable of saving their race from extinction. Others saw her as an abomination, a threat to their ancient bloodlines and the laws that had kept their world hidden for centuries.

All signs pointed to one man at the center of it all: Lord Veydris, a feared vampire elder who had once ruled from the shadows. He saw Yhalia not just as a threat—but as the key to a prophecy, a being powerful enough to break the curse that kept vampires bound to the night. Her father refused to give her up. And for that, Veydris had him killed.

Now, Yhalia must walk a dangerous path. She is no longer a lost girl—she is a warrior forged by loss, a spy born in shadows, and the heir to two worlds that were never meant to meet.

But her journey is far from over.

To survive, she must choose between the power of her vampire side and the compassion of her human heart. She must decide whether she seeks justice—or vengeance. And in the end, she must face the question that has haunted her since she was a child:

Who is Yhalia meant to be?

A weapon?

A bridge between worlds?

Or a reckoning for the sins of the past?

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The Twin Of My Shadow ( Chapter 1 ) The fire in the forest.
Chapter 1: The Fire in the Forest The flames danced high in the night sky, casting an eerie glow against the black canopy of trees. Smoke coiled upward like ghostly fingers reaching for the stars, and the scent of burning wood, old cloth, and ash curled through the air. To anyone watching from afar, it was a tragedy—a cabin consumed by fire, a life lost within it. But the girl who stood at the forest’s edge was very much alive. Yhalia didn’t flinch as the fire devoured the small wooden house she had called home for fifteen years. Her face, half-lit by orange flame, showed no fear—only silence. In her hands, she held nothing but a worn satchel and a dagger wrapped tightly in leather. Her heart ached, but her mind was steady. She wasn’t running away. She was beginning. Behind her, the cold wind rustled the trees as if whispering secrets she had long forgotten. The dark forest watched her, as it always had—since the day she was brought here as a baby, orphaned and unaware of the shadows that surrounded her. Inside that burning house were remnants of her childhood—blankets sewn by her Aunt Mercedes, drawings she had made with charcoal as a child, the scent of boiled herbs and clean soap. And somewhere near the foot of her old bed lay a folded note she had written the night before, now likely crumbling to ash: “Forgive me. I must know the truth.” She had kissed her aunt’s cheek while she slept, careful not to wake her. One last touch, one last goodbye. Then she had poured the oil, lit the flame, and walked away—because there was no other choice. As long as she stayed, she would never know who she truly was. Yhalia turned her back on the fire and began walking. Her dark cloak fluttered behind her like wings, and her footsteps made no sound on the forest floor. With every step, she moved farther from the life she once knew—and deeper into the unknown. --- The city lights glittered in the distance like a promise and a warning. It would take her two days to reach them on foot, longer if the mountain pass flooded. But time was no longer her enemy. Ignorance was. The dagger pressed lightly against her ribs inside her satchel, as if reminding her of its presence. She had found it two weeks ago in the attic—hidden beneath old blankets and sealed in a box with photographs of a man she had never met. A man with pale skin, sharp eyes, and the same black hair she saw in the mirror every day. Her father. His name had been Kaelen. Her mother, Isolde, was only a memory in the whispers of her Aunt Mercedes. A gentle soul. A gifted healer. And a woman murdered for loving the wrong man. The thought made Yhalia’s chest tighten. For years, she had sensed there was something different about her. She healed too quickly. She saw too clearly in the dark. Her senses were too sharp, her thoughts too deep. People avoided her without knowing why, and animals sometimes stared at her as if recognizing something they didn’t understand. She never belonged. She had spent nights staring at the stars, asking the wind the questions no one could answer. Who were my parents, really? Why did they die? And what… am I? The answers began to come the moment she touched that dagger. It had hummed beneath her fingertips, warm and strange, as if responding to her presence. Symbols on its hilt shimmered faintly, and for the first time in her life, Yhalia heard a voice not from this world—a whisper, soft and ancient: “You are not forgotten.” Since that night, the dreams had come harder—vivid visions of blood, battle, and voices speaking in tongues her mind should not have understood, but did. Names and faces she didn’t know filled her thoughts. And at the heart of them all… the name Veydris. A name that made her blood run cold. --- By sunrise, Yhalia reached the old river bridge at the edge of the forest. She stood there for a long moment, watching the water shimmer beneath the early light. In the distance, smoke still drifted above the trees. The fire was dying now. Her old life was turning to ash. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a small locket—her mother’s. Inside was a dried flower, fragile but intact, pressed between two cracked panes of glass. Yhalia closed her fingers around it and whispered: “Wait for me.” She slipped the locket back into her cloak, then crossed the bridge without looking back. There was no home for her in the past. Only answers in the dark ahead.

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