I started panicking even more. These weren't just voices… no, they were like weird self-made messages. . It wasn't me. I swear it wasn't me. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. What is a young lady like me supposed to do? Or?
And then… the voice got so loud. So sharp. It didn't speak – it screamed into my brain.
GRAB THE SWORD AND GRAB HIM.
It hurt so much, I almost collapsed. But my body… it just moved. I grabbed the sword. My hand just… acted. And when that man tried to hit my sister—
I ran.
I pushed him away, hard.
He turned around, furious. "DON'T GET IN THERE!" he shouted at me like I was just some random background character.
But I screamed back at him, "Don't get involved? You think you can just walk around hurting people like you're the king of the world? Well guess what… I hope you understood your mistake."
His eyes narrowed. He pulled his sword.
I didn't even know how to fight. Not really. But I stepped in front of my sister, raised my weapon like I knew what I was doing, and whispered:
"STRIKE."
And I did.
My body moved again, like it remembered something I didn't. He swung. I ducked. I hit his leg with my sword, hard. He dropped to his knees with a loud gasp.
Then I pointed the blade right at his throat.
Everyone was staring. I was shaking. My body still in some weird mode. But my voice? My voice was strong.
I looked him in the eyes and said coldly:
"You touched her. Now touch your pride — it's down there, just like you."
Silence.
The man stumbled back, limping, bleeding. He ran.
And I… I started laughing. What the hell just happened? I laughed but I was scared too. I don't even know myself like that. I'm always the shy girl. The one who says sorry too much. The one who helps everyone, not the one who almost kills someone.
My sister looked up at me, still on the ground, tears in her eyes. "WHAT DID YOU DO? You could've gotten hurt!"
I just grinned. "How about a 'thank you'?"
She wiped her face. "I WAS SO SCARED."
"Alright, alright, little girl," I said as I gently patted her shoulder. "Let's bring this sword back to whoever ordered it."
Then she looked at me weird. "How are you so good at sword fighting?"
I blinked. "You should be the one telling me that. I don't even have my ring yet — not until I'm 17. You know that."
She ran her fingers through her hair, frowning. "Yeah, I guess you learned a bit… but we didn't want you to, remember?"
Her voice wasn't convinced. But she didn't press further. Maybe she was just lazy. Or scared. Maybe I was too.
When we finally got home, of course my sister went running to our mom and told her everything. Classic cry baby behavior.
Me? I just went to my room, collapsed onto my bed, and knocked out.
But peace never lasts long, right?
Knock knock.
It was my sister.
"HELLO? WAKE UP! YOU'VE BEEN SLEEPING ALL AFTERNOON, IT'S TIME TO EAT."
I rubbed my eyes. "Okay okay, give me one minute."
I walked to the mirror, checking my face like always. But then something on my desk flashed.
When I turned to check it… and then looked back in the mirror—
I froze.
It was me… but not me.
Short hair. Shoulder-length. A scar on my neck. Fresh blood on my face. A sword in my hand. My eyes... were different. Cold.
I screamed inside. My soul dropped. I fell to the floor.
My sister ran into the room. "What happened?!"
"I— I looked in the mirror…"
She laughed. "That's what a mirror's for, dummy."
"No! I saw me… but not me! Blood, short hair, everything!"
She laughed harder. "Enough nonsense. Come on already."
She pulled me to the dining table. I was still shaken. Maybe I dreamed it?
Or…?
At dinner, it was quiet. It always is. Everyone just eats like robots.
I was still dazed. Still thinking about what I saw.
Then my father slammed his spoon down. "Eloula. What you did today — running off like that. Do you want to ruin my reputation?!"
I looked up. "Why am I always the evil one? He said something mean!"
He shouted. "You still shouldn't act like that."
Then… he said it.
"I'm sorry if he said you were adopted and I didn't correct him."
Silence.
"He didn't lie."
My heart dropped. I sat still. "You want me to behave? Tell me then — how does a surrogate daughter behave? Maybe I'll learn."
His face turned red. "You're so ungrateful. We had no choice."
My mother gave him a look. One of those "stop talking, or she'll find out more" looks.
I smirked. "Nice silence. Someday, you'll wish you told me. But it's okay. I'll remind you."
I stood up and left the table.
Back in my room, I tried to sleep… but my mind didn't let me.
Midnight came.
I woke up again.
Stared into the mirror.
Just me. Normal.
But then—
A voice. Clear. Loud. Terrifying.