“Afraid?” he murmurs.
“This is not fair,” I call out.
I can’t move. I am paralyzed with fear. Despite the knowledge that this is all fake, I still can’t bring myself to move forward in fear that I lose my footing and plummet to my death. The mind is a powerful weapon. One that Ender now controls.
“What happens if you come across an Untamed?” Ender asks. “Will you tuck tail and hide because they possess powers you don’t?”
I swallow back my fear. The ground is beneath me. I will not fall.
I rush towards him, baton raised to strike. Every blow I throw, he evades perfectly, unafraid of the drop. I’m strugglingto remain on the solid block under my feet. I know it’s a lie, but I don’t want to feel the sensation of my heart galloping when I assume I’ve fallen.
He’s everywhere at once. There is a second Ender behind me. His hands wrap around my neck, choking me while the one in front of me simply smiles.
It feels real. It feels so damn real that for a moment, I can’t breathe. My nails dig into his flesh, but his grip doesn’t loosen.
“Stop.” I gasp.
“You rely on your instincts,” he says, circling me, watching this version of himself torture me. “But instincts only matter if reality is constant. How do you fight an opponent when the game is rigged against you?”
The crushing weight of his palm feels real. Each finger digs in with painful precision.
I force my mind to clear. I remember who I am, where I am, and the cost of failing. And then I step forward, pushing against the weight, ignoring the pain, because it isn’t true.
Ender grins. A quick, menacing curl of his lips.
“You’re learning.”
I respond with a feint, a low sweep that would confuse most opponents while I raise my weapon to batter his ribs. But he escapes,again.
His shadow separates, creating another version of him.
I’m starting to despise this stupid trick.
Two Ender’s stare at me with identical expressions. Both of them are grinning at my misery.
My strike meets empty air.
I stare at them, struggling to determine which is real.
“This is how you feel, isn’t it?” the one on the left says.
“You and your sister, playing mind games with everyone,” the one on the right says. “Tricking your betters with your silly schemes.”
I stiffen.
There is no way he knows about the switch. He doesn’t know Mercy and me well enough to tell us apart.
I shake the thought away. He’s just trying to rattle me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply.
“You’re just a silly girl,” one says.
“And you’re going to lose,” the other adds.
I swallow and steady my stance. Every sense I have, sight, touch, instinct, searches for the true Ender.
The one on the left twitches like a glitching projection. I strike the one on the right. My baton lands against flesh. He staggers back, brows lifting in surprise.
