DRAGONA

Elira

I woke before my alarm, the pale light of dawn leaking through the gauzy curtains. For a minute, I lay still, feeling that soft hush that comes before everyone else in the house stirs.

Then I remembered the Convergence Trials, and the quiet shattered.

I snatched my phone off the nightstand, thumb flying across the screen. My heart was already drumming. All week, the news feeds had been buzzing, speculation, rumor, leaks about the selection process. But nothing official. Not until this morning.

The headline glared up at me in bold lettering:

CONVERGENCE TRIALS TO COMMENCE IN TWO MONTHS — FINALIZED DATES ANNOUNCED

Two months.

I sat up, the duvet sliding to my waist. My stomach swooped like I'd missed a step. It was really happening.

Two months to train, to perfect every technique I knew—and to make sure that when they called the victor's name, it wasn't hers.

Aurelia Ferguson.

I didn't even realize I'd said her name out loud until the word left a bitter taste on my tongue.

I set my phone aside, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes until little sparks danced behind them.

Focus.

I rose and padded to the bathroom, flicking on the bright vanity lights. My reflection stared back, pale, serious, hair in a loose braid that had half unraveled in the night.

If you want to beat her, you have to look ready for it.

I washed my face carefully, pressing the cool cleanser against my skin, then smoothed on my favorite serum. A hint of peppermint tingled across my cheeks, helping me feel more awake.

When I came back into the bedroom, I pulled on a fitted white t-shirt and soft sage green lounge pants. Comfortable, but still nice enough that no one would guess how rattled I felt.

My eyes flicked to the far side of the room where my clone sat cross-legged on the carpet, watching me with an expression that mirrored my own.

"Get up," I murmured.

It rose in a single smooth movement.

I lifted my hand and pictured her—Aurelia, with her warm brown skin and hazel eyes that turned molten gold when she summoned fire. Her perfectly straight nose. The way her mouth always looked a little impatient, like she was bored with everyone in the room.

I let the image sharpen in my mind, and I felt the clone ripple, its features sliding, re-forming.

When I opened my eyes again, Aurelia's face stared back at me.

Aurelia's face…..my eyes.

It made something cold twist in my stomach.

"You're not so impressive," I whispered to the copy, even though my voice shook.

The clone didn't answer. It only stood there, perfect and silent, reminding me who I was always measured against.

If my mother came in right now and saw this, she'd probably say it wasn't healthy. That it wasn't normal.

But she wasn't here.

I lifted my hand again, letting the clone's features dissolve until it returned to my own reflection.

Better.

A soft knock came at my door, and my mother's voice drifted through, warm and lilting. "Elira? Are you awake?"

"Yeah, I'm up," I called back, voice a little hoarse.

She cracked the door and peeked inside, blonde hair falling around her face in a smooth curtain. "You're up early," she said, smiling gently. "Nerves?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "They announced the dates. Two months."

Her eyes widened just a little. "Oh." She slipped inside fully and closed the door behind her. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm going to throw up," I admitted. "And like I'm going to win."

My mother laughed softly and came to sit on the edge of my bed. "Both good signs, I think." She reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "You've been working so hard, Elira. Don't forget that."

"What if it's not enough?" I whispered.

She shook her head. "It will be. You were born with this gift for a reason. And you have more determination than most people twice your age."

I swallowed, fighting the tightness in my throat. "I just…I don't want to be the girl who almost did something."

Her expression softened, and she cupped my cheek in her palm. "Then you won't be."

A beat of silence stretched between us.

"Come down when you're ready," she said finally, her hand dropping to her lap. "Breakfast is waiting."

When she left, I looked around my room, perfect and tidy and bright, and felt something uncoil in my chest.

Two months.

And I was going to be ready.