"Grandma… please turn off the lights…" I pressed the pillow to my ear, but the birds outside my window kept chirping. It was annoying, to be honest. I would never understand people who enjoyed the chirp—

𝘉𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴....? 𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.

My wyws opened and I pushed myself up, and my muscles screamed in protest. My shoulders, back, and legs all ached as if I'd been folded into a box for weeks. My arms shook when I tried to lift them, and my spine protested with a stiff ache.

𝘈𝘩𝘩... 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵? 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵—

I looked up ahead and froze.

What in the name of god!?

The sight in front of me made my chest tighten. White shining curtains hung so tall and wide they felt like walls themselves, letting in sunlight in delicate streams. I looked down and the bed I lay on… It wasn't my bed. The frame was sturdy, the mattress soft, and the blanket actually felt warm. The wall looked different too, without the familiar crack or the old poster I had taped up to hide the crack in wall.

Everything here gleamed and it was too clean and perfect.

This isn't my room. This… this can't be real.

I turned my head slowly, left then right, my stomach tightening with disbelief. The walls, the floor, even the air felt like they didn't belong to me. My old room had smelled like dust and old paper. But this smelled faintly of flowers and something… expensive.

Where am I? And whose… whose room is this?

Did my neighbor send me to a hospital?

I glanced down at the bedsheet beneath me. It was soft, smooth and almost glowing...like silk. My hand drifted over it and it was weird... My hand didn't have the scar of needles—

My hand… wait… my hand…

It wasn't mine. The fingers were small and slender, perfectly shaped, pale with a faint warmth. The skin was smooth, untouched by scars or roughness, and the veins didn't jut out the way they usually did.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

My breath hitched. My heart thumped so loud I thought it might burst.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦?

A lock of hair spilled forward, brushing my face. I reached up automatically, then froze again. Long strands slid between my fingers, soft as silk, almost like ribbons. They were deep, glossy red, catching the light like rubies.

My hair was white. It had always been white.

I had a problem which made my hair white. This isn't possible…

I swallowed hard and looked around the room again. To my left, a huge big mirror stood and besides it an absurdly ornate dressing table stood, like it belonged in a queen's palace. It had hree mirrors with carved details, and a sculpted head wearing a crown in the center. Tiny jars and trinkets cluttered the top, but they weren't necessary. I focused on… my hand, my hair, my body again. This wasn't me.

I forced myself up off the bed, pressing my palms to the bed for support. My legs trembled violently, like they were made of jelly, and every muscle in my back and arms hurt. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥? I gritted my teeth and slowly shuffled toward the mirror. Each step was a battle against my stiff joints and wobbly knees.

My reflection hit me before I reached the mirror, and I nearly stumbled backward.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦...𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦.

My short hair, purple eyes, freckles....all were gone. Instead, a girl stared back with golden eyes, almond-shaped and sharp at the edges, half-lidded and weak. Her hair tumbled in soft waves around her waist, red as rubies. Her skin glowed faintly, more ivory than white but it was smooth and unblemished. Even in a plain white gown, with hair messy and limbs weak, she looked… impossibly elegant.

I blinked hard. How could it be!? The image blinked with me. It's blinking with me… that's… mine?

My hands shook as I reached forward. Fingertips pressed against the cool glass. The mirror didn't lie, and yet it was impossible.

I barely recognized my own voice whispering, trembling, "W-what… what happened to me?"

My voice sounded so bold and heavy. It was like it could intimidate anyone.

I grabbed my throat and stumbled back. I couldn't believe that in the mirror that woman was me.

"I—" A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my head. I stumbled onto the soft surface beneath me.

"AHHH!" I clutched my skull. It felt like something was being shoved into my head, poking, twisting. My knees gave out and I collapsed, pressing my forehead to the floor.

"Please… stop! Stop! It hurts… let me go…"

A voice came from behind me.

"Hwæt! Eart þu eall riht?"

I froze. My eyes widened. Who was it? Man or woman? I couldn't even tell but voive sounded feminine... I couldn't understand a single word.

Those footsteps moved closer towards me...no behind me. That person was behind me.

"Hæf þu clypode læce and Hlāford Kirill hrædlice?"

I flinched violently at the loud voice.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯? 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵.

"Hwæt gelamp? Þin wyrð, hlæfdige Meredia?"

A sudden touch on my back made me shiver uncontrollably. My body shook.

"No… no… please don't… don't hurt me… please…" I clutched hands around my arms tighter.

A few more steps came into the room. They spoke in that strange, foreign tongue again.

"Hwæt hæfst þu nu gedon? Hwær is hlæfdige on flore?"

"I—I didn't do anything," I whispered, my voice shaking.

"Wilt þū þurh hlaford Cyrill beon geswenced? Þū ne mægtest ǣnne ǣnlicne úre ādlige hlǣfdige bewarian!"

One of them suddenly stepped right in front of me. Shoes on their feet, white leggings wrapped around their legs. Then they bent on their knees.

My whole body tensed, stiff as a board, as if that could stop them from touching me… or killing me.

"Hlāfdige," her hands rested on my shoulders. "Setta þu up. Þu scealt na beo on þære flor. Winter hæfð eac læt."

"No… no… no… don't kill me," I whimpered, my teeth chattering.

I managed to lift my head, tears blurring my vision. All I could make out was a vague shape. It was a woman in a strange outfit. Puffing sleeves, a weird apron, and a bonnet wrapped around her head.

"Hlāfdige? Hit is ic…"

Her hands moved, and I caught sight of something unfamiliar in her grip.

𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱... 𝘐𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱...

I didn't know what it was but It was sharp and it's pointy end was shining as if it wanted to be inside my body and suck the blood out of me.

My stomach sank. I pushed myself backward on the floor, palms pressing hard against the soft mattress to keep from falling. Every inch felt like my heart was trying to leap out of my chest.

𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵… 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘦…

I slid back as fast as I could, but my back hit the lamp perched on the nightstand beside the bed. The sudden impact sent it toppling over.

The glass globe shattered across the floor, oil spilling in dark, sticky puddles, the flame flickering and sputtering as it met the slick surface. My chest heaved, my knees trembling, and I pressed my palms harder against the floor, trying to stop myself from sliding further.

I froze, eyes wide, staring at the shards and the spilled oil.

Suddenly, the door on the adjacent wall of bed, creaked open. I ducked behind the bed, heart hammering so hard it hurt.

A figure stepped in. It was a tall man, a tall anf he was clad in… metal? A armor? My eyes widened. Why would someone wear—

There, on his waist was a sword. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦.

I screamed.

" Don't kill me please! Don't—don't come near me!"

The man's eyes snapped to those women first. His voice was loud and harsh.

"Hwæt hæfst þu hiere gedon? Ne mæg þu hiere wel healdan!? Hwȳ is hēo on grund!?

The women scrambled, heads bowed, voices quivering.

"Forgyf us, Hlǣford! We ne wisten… we wisten na…"

My knees shook. I stayed crouched, trembling behind the bed, not moving an inch. The sword glinted. My fingers clawed into the floor as if it could keep me from being taken.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦....𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘮𝘦...

He ran his hands over his face, like he was stressed, then he looked at me.

𝘕𝘰... 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦.

"Eri, is hit wel? Ne beo ðu ne forht. Ic eom her. Nan mann ne sceal ðe wundan."

My chest hammered. Every muscle in me screamed. he crossed the room in a few big, fast strides, and suddenly he was… only a few steps away.

"Miht þu up? Standan?"

I couldn't back up anymore. My back had already slammed the lampshade. I was cornered.

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘯... 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰...

The door 𝘸𝘢𝘴 o𝘱𝘦n. My brain refused to think beyond that and it wanted to me to just run. This was the only way to escape.

"I…" My voice caught in my throat. I stood shakily, knees wobbling. He didn't move, didn't even lift a hand. His sword hung at his side, but his eyes… they weren't angry. He didn't move to grab me immediately.

"Eri... Wilt þu eft slæpan? Bæð þu nu bet?"

I didn't understand, but… his tone? It sounded questioning and calm and most importantly, soft like he was saying words of care. I nodded, barely.

1… 2… 3…

I jumped. My knees buckled immediately, threatening to collapse under me, but I forced my legs forward, scrambling toward the door.

𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵

Then—BAM! My head bumped into something or someone. My head snapped up.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵.... 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵.... 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴?

I looked up. A man, no, a boy stood before me. his eyes were different. One was blue and the other one was gold. Panic punched me in the gut.

I stumbled backward, fell on my hips again.

𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘪 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦.

Around me, their foreign tongues started again.

Læfdi! Læfdi feoll! Hio ne wile us neah lætan...

"Ic wille lædan læce. Þu wilt niman hie, min Drihten. Hie is wyrceðe wundorlice."

"Esther, niman hīe."

"Hwæt? Forhwȳ is hēo swā forht?"

My hands covered my face in defeat. I wanted to go home but these strange people and stranage language hurt my head.

My head spun.

𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢, 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦.

Something was happening to me. I felt heavier as if gravity was pulling me to fall back.

The last thing I saw were those delicate, strange hands that weren't mine, then the world tipped. Everything swirled, and the room, the people, the light....all collapsed around me.

"Hū is hēo nū?"

"Hire brǣþ is nū stille geworden, and hēo sīen þæt hēo wæs āne of ege āwæcned. Nān þing is unriht mid hire līchaman. Þū sægdest, hēo wæs on ege āwæcned swīftlice, riht?"

I lay still on the bed, eyes closed, hands resting at my sides, pretending to be unconscious. My every muscle tensed, heart pounding in my ears. They hadn't tried to touch me or harm me yet, and the older voice, definitely a doctor, was inspecting me carefully, murmuring to other man in that language.

But something was more weirder now. I... could understand what they were sayiny. From the time I woke up again, I was able to understand them. And not just words but every nuance, every tone.

"When she regains consciousness, kindly inform me. She may have experienced considerable distress."

"Certainly. I will ensure you are informed."

"Please excuse me, Lord Kirill. I shall take my leave now."

"I will have you escorted."

"Thank you. May I ask, how are the Duke and Duchess? Have they been informed of the situation of the Lady?"

"I have not yet informed them. Given her condition, it would be prudent to wait until she is calm and stable."

Their footsteps receded down. The door clicked shut behind them. I waited a few minutes, then carefully opened my eyes and pushed myself up.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

Every word and subtle inflection was clear. And there was more to it. I had strange and fractured memories, bleeding into my thoughts of someone named Meredia.

I lowered my gaze to my hands.....my hands. Those hands belonged to her.

My eyes fell on my right wrist. A scar ran along the inside, pale against the skin, faintly reddish-yellow at the edges where the healing hadn't fully settled. It traced a jagged line, about three inches long, like a slit, deep enough to have drawn blood heavily.

The skin around it was slightly raised and dry, the kind of mark that screamed of pain.

Meredia had tried to commit suicide. That much I knew now. It wasn't a clean knowing, more like fragments shoved into my head....images, sensations, words. Her parents had forced her into marriage with some noble she barely knew. On top of that, they'd dumped the weight of becoming a proper noble lady on her shoulders overnight. It crushed her.

She wasn't built for that. She was spoiled, adored, and smothered in affection all her life. Her parents, her brothers, even the staff had loved her, and protected her. And then suddenly, it all flipped. Expectations, rules, duty and there was no way out. so, she broke.

She slit her wrist.

I pressed my hand harder against the scar on my right arm, my stomach twisting. Her pain wasn't just a story now. it lived in my bones, my skin, my chest.

But… the memories didn't stop there. In the broken flashes she had woken up after the attempt. Her family was crying, apologising. They promised not to force her again. They swore she could marry the man she actually loved.

The man…

My brows furrowed. Who was he?

I tried to reach for the memory but it slipped through my fingers like water...just a blurred silhouette where a face or name should be.

I exhaled sharply, fingers trembling over the scar. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳?

The future in my memories...was that the future where she was supposed to get married to the man she loved? A future that had shifted because she actually died… and I woke up in her body?

I let out a long, tired sigh. It was exhausting being trapped in a body that wasn't mine, in a world of swords, armor, and rules I didn't understand.

That man in metal armor… maybe… Kirill?

Kirill was Meredia's older brother by five years. He was something called a paladin of the kingdom. That explained the heavy armor and the sword strapped to his side.

And the other one I'd bumped into was Esther, her younger brother, just fifteen.

I stood up slowly. My knees were still shaky as I made my way toward the massive mirror. Even though it scared me, I needed to see her again.

Meredia.

Her reflection stared back at me.

Her skin was a creamy ivory, pale but not lifeless. There was warmth in it, like the soft yellow of fresh butter. Across her cheeks, though, that calm tone was broken by patchy redness. Not the kind that looked like blush. It was more of a permanent sunburn, a faint red web spread delicately over her skin.

Her hair fell in deep, wavy strands of red, rich and glossy like crushed rubies, tumbling over her shoulders like silk.

Her eyes looked unreal. They were the colour of molten gold...big and expressive that made her look both gentle and striking at the same time.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴.

I studied her face closely, tracing every detail....delicate yet full and pouty lips, forming a soft M-shape.

Then I looked down, suddenly aware of the weight of her body. She was built with deep, rolling curves. A waist that dipped softly before flaring into wide hips. Her arms were strong and soft at once. Her belly showed faintly beneath the gown.

The white gown fell to her knees.

𝘞𝘰𝘸. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴.

It was absurd how graceful I felt in someone else's body. But it was not some fairytale dream, it was a weird reality.

I swallowed hard, my hands hovering over my chest as if touching it could make me know her.

This wasn't just a body. This was Meredia's life, her burdens, her choices… and now it was mine.

"What if you were alive?" I asked, not her, but me. I had died too, in my world.

It came back like a punch. Lupus had killed me. The slow crawl of pain, the empty pill bottles, the silence of that small apartment that used to be my grandmother's.... all of that flashed into my memories. I had no friends and family. I only hear whispers about me in town.

On top of that, people always said I looked wrong and my parents had died because of me.

I never even got to know how.

And here I was. My life had been the complete opposite of Meredia's. I scraped by meanwhile she had everything. Her room alone was bigger than my entire home.

Was this… a second chance? Did God finally feel sorry for me?

Grandma always said everything happens for a reason. Maybe she wasn't wrong after all. Maybe I could… actually live this life and enjoy it.

I could die without regrets, without wishes left undone.

I let out a small scoff. "Who am I kidding?"

The truth sat heavy in my chest. No matter where I went, I'd always carry one regret that I never found Grandma.

𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Just keep breathing, convince the heart and pretend it's normal.

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭.

My eyes drifted back to those curtains. Those things had been shut since the moment I woke up. I padded over and tugged them apart.

Heavy curtains framed the tall, locked doors behind me. Beyond them waited a balcony that looked like it belonged in some overdramatic historical play.

Two chairs sat across a tiny table, dusted lightly with snow. Vines clung to the railing, stiff and pale from the cold, their flowers wilted but still hanging on in stubborn little clusters. I fumbled with the latch until it clicked, then pushed the doors open.

Cold air rushed in instantly, stealing my breath. It smelled crisp. I stepped outside carefully, half-expecting someone to shout at me, like I was sneaking out of a stranger's house.

Snow stretched everywhere.

The sky was a hard, endless blue, the kind that made your eyes ache when you stared too long. Below, the gardens were buried in white, their shapes softened and half-lost, strange plants poking through like something out of a storybook. From this height, they looked unreal.

Beyond them, tall trees rose like frozen spires, their branches heavy with snow. Between them sat buildings or rooms or small houses? I couldn't tell. Everything curved inward, the palace walls looping around the grounds like a massive ring.

At the far edge near a gate, strange vehicles were lined up. It looked like carriages. People moved through the snow, cloaked in dark, simple clothes, nothing like the jeans and hoodies I knew. They looked like they belonged here.

I gripped the icy railing, my fingers stinging.

𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘐 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦? 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦?

A faint creak sounded behind me. My body stiffened.

It was the sound of the door. Someone opened the door.

I turned, heart slamming against my ribs, just as a warm, rushed voice filled the room. It trembled with joy and tears all at once.

"Eri… you woke up! My child!"

I froze.

A woman's voice. It cracked like she'd been holding it together by sheer will.

Another voice followed. It was a deeper one.

"Mother, she is resting. Do not press her so suddenly."

Kirill.

My legs went numb.

I scrambled back towards the corner of the balcony, pulse roaring in my ears. Would they be angry? Did they know? Could they have felt that i wasn't her?

"Kirill, where is Eri? Esther said she has woken up."

"I… I do not know, Mother." His footsteps approached, getting louder and closer.

"She was here. She must have risen and gone out—"

He crossed the threshold and stopped.

His eyes found me. His shoulders dropped, relief flooding his face as he let out a long breath.

"Eri… there you are."

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

What was i supposed to say?

𝘋𝘰 𝘪 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦? 𝘋𝘰 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘶𝘱?

So I just stared.

He didn't look like Meredia. The winter light caught his skin, warm and bronze against the white of his shirt. He was taller and definitely atheltic. His jet black hair was styled in a windswept look, medium length on top...thick layers swept back and slightly to one side and along the sides. A few stray locks grazing his forehead. His eyes were the colour of sapphiers with flecks of grey. He studied me seriously, like he was checking that I was real.

Behind him, she appeared.

She wore a flowing green gown with furred neck, rich and heavy against the cold. She had brown hair streaked with no silver even though she looked like in ber forties. But her eyes were gold just like Meredia's.

She didn't hesitate and crossed the room and pulled me into her arms.

"Eri… my sweet child…" Her voice broke. "I have wronged you. I have failed you. Forgive me… forgive your mother."

This was the Duchess Elowen, a woman who ruled her household with grace and steel, who could make grown men stand straighter with a single look.

She was strict but loving also, the kind who hugged and scolded in the same breath.

I buried my face into her neck.

Her perfume hit me instantly. It was somehow warm, familiar and comforting in a way I couldn't explain like something from another life.

My arms moved on their own, wrapping around her. She clung to me, sobbing softly, and for once… I wasn't scared.

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

"I am fine, mother."

Kirill froze.

Then he smiled.

The Duchess finally pulled back, her face streaked with tears, her makeup ruined. Somehow, it made her look fragile.

"Mery," she whispered, voice shaking, "you may wed whomever you wish. You shall bear no duty your heart rejects. Only… never again, my child, do not do this to me again."

She held my hands, trembling, pressing kisses to them like they were sacred.

"I cannot lose you."

My throat tightened.

𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘺.

Every time someone else cried in front of me, I would start crying too.

I nodded.

"I am fine. I will not… do such a thing again."

"I believe you," she whispered.

Kirill stepped forward, his tall frame shielding her slightly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Compose yourself, Mother," he said gently.

"She is here. She is safe. That is what matters."

She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, smearing the last of her composure, still gripping my hands like I might vanish if she let go.

Then her expression changed.

Her golden eyes sharpened.

"Mery," she said softly, far too softly,

"do you understand the torment you placed upon this family? Kirill, esther, your father and myself. We waited, believing you lost to us."

𝘖𝘩. 𝘎𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Her hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing beneath my eye like I was a tragic portrait.

"You are precious beyond measure. But you are the daughter of this house. You cannot cast your life away, not when so many are bound to you."

My mind screamed: 𝘞𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭. 𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦.

But my mouth betrayed me because nothing could melt me more than maternal care could.

"Yes, mother."

Kirill sighed politely. "Mother speaks true. You frightened us deeply, Meredia. Do not let us endure such dread again."

"Yes… it won't happen again."

Mostly because I don't even know what I did the first time. And they were venting out on the wrong soul.