Chapter One: The Night Before the Ceremony

The attic was dark and still, the air thick with dust and silence. She lay curled on the old mattress, the only warmth coming from her own trembling limbs beneath the thin blanket. A weak moonbeam slipped through the crack in the wooden wall, painting pale patterns across the floor.

Sleep never came easy in this house. But tonight, something felt different. Heavy. Final.

Then—voices.

She stilled, barely breathing, as footsteps stopped outside the attic door.

“My lady… are you certain about this?” a man’s voice asked, low and hesitant. It was the knight. Ser Alric. She remembered him as the only one in that place who looked at her with not hate or discust but with pity instead. His tone was shaky, filled with something she rarely heard in this place—fear.

Her aunt’s voice came sharp and cold. “If you don’t do it now, Alric, tomorrow will be the end of us all. Her father will come. The Grand Duke will demand to see his daughter for the ceremony, and we’ll be exposed. The missing money, the letters, everything. Do you want to face his wrath?”

“But… she’s just a girl.” He lowered his voice, almost whispering. “What if she truly was abandoned? What if—”

“Enough!” her aunt snapped. “I should’ve drowned her years ago. That little wretch will ruin everything just like her mother did. I told you to make it look like she ran away with a servant and was betrayed. Just one stab. Quick and clean. She’s asleep.”

Inside the room, the girl’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure they could hear it. Her breath came in shallow gasps. They were going to kill her. Not tomorrow. Not someday. Tonight.

She began inching back across the mattress, away from the door, trying not to make a sound—

Creak.

The wood betrayed her.

The door burst open.

Her aunt stepped in first, elegant as ever in her crimson robe, her expression calm and cruel. The knight followed, blade drawn but trembling in his grip.

“Oh,” her aunt said, eyes narrowing. “So you were awake. Listening, were you? No matter. I was going to let you die in your sleep to make it easier.” She gave a slight shrug. “But since you're awake… struggle, scream, cry—I won’t care.”

The girl backed up until her shoulders hit the wall, wide eyes locked on the sword. “Why…?” she whispered, voice hoarse.

“Because you should’ve died with your mother,” her aunt replied coldly. “Now stop delaying. Alric—do it.”

The knight’s hand trembled. “I… I’m sorry, child.”

He stepped forward.

“Father… please…” she whispered. “Save me…”

The blade flashed in the dark.

Pain exploded in her chest as steel pierced her. Her breath caught, a strangled gasp leaving her lips. One single tear slid down her cheek.

And then—silence.

No warmth. No light.

No one came.

---

She woke to the scent of mildew and the sharp sting of straw pricking her skin.

Her eyes flew open. The ceiling was cracked stone. The air, cold and damp. Her limbs—tiny. Her hands—small, chubby, and shaking.

She sat up quickly, dust rising around her. She was in an old storeroom, the same one where she'd been locked as a child for spilling tea on a guest. Wooden crates were stacked to the ceiling, and a rat scurried in the corner.

Her heart raced. “What… is this…?” she whispered. Her voice was high. Childish.

She touched her chest—no wound. No blood.

“This can’t be real.”

She stumbled to the door and tugged at the rusted handle. Locked. She banged softly once, then again.

“Is anyone there? Hello?”

Just as her panic began to rise, the door burst open with a loud clang. A stream of bright light flooded in, blinding her.

A maid stood in the doorway with a broom in one hand and a startled expression.

“You—what are you doing awake already?” the woman frowned. “It’s barely sunrise. Whatever if you're awake go and wash your face. The Countess won’t like it if you’re seen like this.”

The girl stared, frozen.

It was happening again.

She was a child again.

She was back.

And this time, she wouldn’t let them destroy her.

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