Clare's Prathibimb entered the room, accompanied by servants carrying most precious jewelry made with invaluable gemstones. Clare patiently waited for everyone to leave her Prathibimb alone. It didn't take long for that to happen. Her Prathibimb stood in front of the mirror as she adored her reflection. Clare approached her from behind. The girls met eyes through the mirror. "Finally here to give me your final goodbye?" The duplicate smirked. 

"No. I'm here to let you know that you are no longer needed," Clare said. "I can take it from here."

"Oh dear. Haven't I told you already? You can never get rid of me." The Prathibimb turned to face her with a face of fake sympathy. 

"Maybe not mentally. But physically, I certainly can," Clare said patiently in a menacing tone.

"You will never have the courage to defeat me!" The Prathibimb put up a sad argument. "You can never do what I can!"

Classandra scoffed. Then she chuckled. Then she laughed. Looking her straight in the eye, Classandra looked directly into the Prathibimb's soul as she said with a menacing smile, "Oh darling! You are forgetting that whatever you are made of a hundred percent is only a ten percent in me. If you could give hell with that ten percent, imagine what I can do with my hundred percent."

"You don't have it in you!" The evil twin screamed in fear. "You can't do it!"

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," Clare said with a grin. 

Within a blink of an eye, the twin pounced on Classandra. The girls locked hands in combat, throwing one over the other. The room blasted with sounds of things clattering and eventually breaking. The Prathibimb pushed Clare onto a wooden shelf with such a lot of force that it creaked. Few more hits later, it was broken into two, with splinters decorating its edges. Clare quickly grabbed hold of the Prathibimb and switched the positions. The Prathibimb was made to hit the wood with so much force that she cried with pain. But she was soon to regain her composure. She pushed Clare onto the bed and tried to pounce on her, but Clare rolled away, leaving the Prathibimb slip and fall. Both the girls regained their stand again, facing each other with raising and falling chests. A quick sprint and the girls were at each other's throat. At that moment, it was difficult to differentiate the real and the copy. They were both ferocious. Two predators, fighting each other for the hunting grounds. They groaned and gritted, hitting each other with such vigor. The Prathibimb was pushed to the ground with Clare atop her. The position was flipped. Again and again and again, hitting furniture all the way, until the princess was on top of the duplicate again. She hit the girl with her same face, over and over and over. She felt no mercy. All the hate she had on herself was directed towards her copy. Her fists were caught in mid air with the forceful hands of the copy. A feral screech left Clare's mouth. 

Classandra let down her walls. A brilliant light emanated from her, so bright that the Prathibimb was completely blinded. The girl's were still screaming and the intensity of the light still kept increasing. Heavy wind swirled around them in a tornado and blew back Classandra's hair. At that moment, she was the epitome of destruction itself.

The locket which she now wore around her neck opened by the force. The petal that was secured inside fell out. With no difficulty, it landed on the figure lying on the floor. Soon, the girl was nothing but strings of light returning back to its owner. Clare's palm hit the cold hard floor. Where once was a figure of a young lady was now only a dried petal, which too burned in thin air. Clare breathed heavily, still staring at the empty space in front of her.

A hurried knock brought her back to consciousness. She immediately stood up and said, "the door is open."

The one who opened the door was Alexander himself. His eyes widened as he took in the appearance of the princess. 

"The reason you're here?" Classandra said to snap Alex back to reality. 

"The coronation... is about to begin soon, sis...," he said with dread. 

"I'm done with the hair. Dress is all that is left. Give me five minutes," Classandra said. 

Alex's eyes traveled to the princess' hair. A look of horror crossed his face. 

"You're done with your hair?!" Alex asked, dumbfounded. Wondering what Alex meant, Clare looked at herself in the mirror and soon realized the problem. 

"OK," she said. "Ten minutes. I'll have to redo my hair."

"I'll do my best to stall," Alex said and left. 

Clare sat on her bed, panting as she tried to calm herself down. Ten minutes seemed too short of a span to make up her mind on changing her life course by becoming the queen. First thing first, she told herself. She went to the bathroom and splashed her face with fresh cool water. Her scorching hot face took several splashes to cool down. Next was the dress. Clare stepped into her closet and took a look at all the dresses that her Prathibimb chose for the coronation. Non appealed to her. Every piece of fabric shone bright in the light, drawing too much attention. 

Clare laughed at the irony in front of her. She was standing in a closet that was large enough to fit two elephants, with dresses filled on either side of the wall, shoes and slippers of all kinds and jewelry made of the finest gemstones, and still, Clare found it hard to choose one dress to wear for the coronation. 

None of the dress that was brought in for her for the coronation seemed right to her. It wasn't her style. She didn't want to wear just anything either, though time was running out. Classandra wished that she could stop time and make herself a dress, but the luxury was impossible. 

She walked and walked and walked till she was almost at the end of the closet. A faint glow caught her eyes. Clare pulled out a dress display that was hiding behind the curtains. The dress put her in a shock. 

"Wow dad!" The young Clare's voice echoed in her memory. "That dress looks so beautiful! Whose is it?!"

Clare's dad, the king of Utopia, smiled at her kindly. They were standing at the royal treasury, where her dad promised a lesson on the treasury of Utopia. 

"That, my dear Xandra, is the gown made specially for the queen," Philip's memory said. 

"That dress belongs to mama?" young Clare beamed.

"Oh no dear," Philip chuckled. "That dress is for you!"

"ME?!" young Clare made a face.

"The day when you are ready. When you ascend the throne, that day, the dress will be yours," her dad said in trance.

"Dad, I don't want to be a queen," the young Clare mumbled under her breath. 

Now, here she was, standing in front of the dress that she had seen in the royal treasury, glowing bright with its brilliance. She had no idea who moved the dress here. Her eyes watered on the sight of it. Her father always knew. He always believed her to be the one destined to rule the kingdom, yet, he stood by her choice. It was always her choice with him.

A parchment peaked from the seam of the dress. Clare plucked it and read a note that said, "Thought you would want this. Your father would be so proud. Love, Mom."

Clare couldn't believe her eyes. Her mother actually brought this dress in for her. Her heart sang a song that was quite unfamiliar to her, yet so welcoming. Her mind was always that of a queen and her soul always knew what had to be done. The one that always conflicted was her heart. Only now did the heart sing with harmony with the mind and soul, creating a beautiful music that Clare could dwell in for eternity. For the first time in her life, Clare was finally ready.

The object wrapped in crumbled paper, given to her by the Duke of Gloracia, a gift claimed to be given to her by her father himself, caught Clare's attention. Duke Benjamin's words echoed in her mind. Open it when your heart becomes one with your mind and soul, he had said. Clare finally understood him. With utmost care, she untied the golden chord surrounding it. Inside was a brooch with the Utopian royal crest– a phoenix. On the paper was her father's handwriting that said, "I believe you Xandra."

Now, Clare was truly ready.