"What is this?" the double hissed, trying to pull her weapon back.
"You can't delete a part of yourself, Alex. You just archived me." The evil double leaned against the Wizard Portal. "The Wizard Council thinks you're perfect now. But we both know the truth. You didn't win that fight in Tuscany because you were 'good.' You won because you were smarter. And I’m the one who handles the 'smart' stuff."
Alex Russo sat on the steps of the wizard substation, her gaze fixed on her reflection in the silver surface of the family cauldron. She was the Family Wizard. She had the robes, the power, and the responsibility. But she also had the "Other Alex"—the manifestation of her own selfish, chaotic impulses that she had cast out during the battle in Italy. "You look bored," a voice drawled from the shadows.
The Russo family’s lair felt colder than usual. The air shimmered with residual magic—the kind that lingers after a High Wizard makes a decision they can't take back.
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