Cynthian heaved and panted, but she kept running even as her chest burned with pain. She leaned against one of the identical lifeless trees to catch her breath. Everywhere she turned looked exactly the same.
"I only know how to run... Whenever I get scared..."
That dreadful shadow was still following her. Cynthian turned around with gritted teeth and a weeping face. No matter how far she ran, her shadow was always behind her. Never getting closer, but never too far for her words not to reach Cynthian.
"Leave me alone!"
Cynthian whimpered and she was back on her feet again. Running with her flowers glasped over the base of her horns.
"Icetales will forget about me, so will Ivy. No one will care if I'm gone."
Even with her flowers held tight to her head, her shadow's words seemed to be broadcasting right into Cynthian's head...
"Get away from me!"
"I couldn't save anyone. The one thing I'm good at is running away and letting others down."
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Please, I beg you."
"I'm weak, helples, and pathetic. I only know how to be carried along. I don't know how to stand on my own."
"Stop it... Please."
Cynthian tripped on an outstretched root and fell face first into the dirt. She pushed herself up with a whimper and a groan. When Cynthian looked up, her shadow was standing right in front of her.
"I must tell Mama Zahra that Mama Rosa is gone because of me. Will she hate me? Will I even be able to tell her? She'll hate me!"
Cynthian crawled back, staring at the distorted Roserade with shaking eyes.
"I deserve to be hated. I brought Mama Zahra so much trouble trying to raise me, I caused her so many sleepless nights because Mama Rosa was gone. I deserve to be alone, and die alone."
"Stop this already. You don't know anything!" Cynthian yelled.
The shadow tilted her head slightly, her featureless eyes locked on Cynthian. For the first time, it felt like she was actually looking at Cynthian herself.
"I know, because I am YOU!"
"No, you're not me! Stop pretending to be me!"
The shadow scowled and the smoke seeping from her chest rushed out in a much denser plume. The smoke gathered in her black rose to form a sharp spike. She drew it backwards, ready to strike.