Chapter Text
“Death smiles at us all, all one can do is smile back.”
— Marcus Aurelius
***
Do you believe in fate? That everything happens for a certain reason? Do you think that there’s a road already created for you to walk on? Is there a greater being that decides things? And if so, are the choices you make real choices then? Do we have a choice, a voice, in our own lives? If not, maybe that then would be better since there are no good or bad choices because they are already made for you? You are not responsible.
But what if everything’s a coincidence? A compilation of random situations that result in something good or bad? What if there isn’t a road, and you have to make it yourself and all the good or bad choices are your own responsibility?
There are many questions one could ask in life—or in death.
I remember never asking one of them, not even thinking about it. Who’d think someone as young as me would die? It’s not like I did anything life-threatening: didn’t do any dangerous sports, never travelled anywhere dangerous, didn’t rush into things… No, I was as normal as can be, as safe as can be.
One day, it happened though. Like it would for all of us. Only sooner than expected. Death.
But I didn’t just up and die. It grew, slowly, insipid. But it did have a beginning—I think—it started when I was about twenty-three years old.
My friends wanted to celebrate something, I don’t even remember what. It’s been so long.
We went to a new nightclub. There was music—of course—and alcohol. Neon lights flashed through the packed rooms, people squirming against each other.
A man pushed himself against me tightly. I don’t recall his face, but I remembered I liked it. My hair stuck to my face, my body gliding against his. He grunted deeply, his hands caressing my sides, up to my stomach, where he held me against himself as we moved with the music.
I turned around and lifted my chin, my mouth to his lips. Hot breath streamed into my mouth. But when I opened my eyes dreamily, I remember bright emerald eyes staring back into mine. I stopped moving then. Heart stilled. His hands grew colder and his grip tightened even more. His eyes. There was something wrong with his eyes. Then, his wet lips parted from mine and he said something to me.
Suddenly, I was able to move again. I turned away and sprinted to the bathrooms. Girls shrieked as I pushed them aside.
‘Hey, there’s a line!’ Someone called.
I heaved myself over one of the sinks and vomited. Only blood came out. Dark, clogged, red.
I had danced with death himself that night, I think.
It only went downhill after that. Doctors couldn’t understand what was causing my illness. But it spread. It took years, and I slowly wasted away. Radiation, chemo, drugs, anything. It wasn’t cancer. It wasn’t anything anyone had ever seen before.
My body was fighting against something. But it was only a matter of time.
Describing how dying feels like, isn’t something I like doing. But here it is: it doesn’t feel like drifting off into a deep slumber. It doesn’t feel like going into the beyond, where it’s warm and cosy. It feels cold. Silent. One moment, I was still in the hospital bed. My mum was sitting next to me, her eyes watery but strong. My father kept on whispering my name as if it would keep me in this world. My older brother didn’t cry or say anything at all, he just held my hand, as by saying I wasn’t alone. But in the end, I was. Everyone is alone when they die.
In truth? It was like switching off the lights in your room, or blinking your eyes when you go to sleep at night and the next moment it’s morning. But morning never came.
***
Pain was the first thing I felt. Blistering, sharp, and alive, it gnawed at every corner of my awareness. Then came the weight—the sensation of being pressed into the earth, as though the world itself sought to reclaim me. My chest heaved, dragging air into lungs that burned like they hadn’t been used in an age. I shouldn’t be able to feel anything, right? I was dead. I was dead. I remembered it clearly—the sickness, the sharp ache in my chest, the cold creeping up my spine. The way my breath had rattled, slowing to nothing. So why was there this pressure under my fingertips? Why could I feel the cool, rough texture of stone beneath my hands?
My heart pounded in my chest, steady and strong, as if waking from a long sleep. Confusion surged through me, followed by a spike of fear. I forced my eyes open, blinking against the sudden brightness.
Green.
A canopy of green above me, the tops of trees swaying gently in the breeze, their leaves shimmering as sunlight filtered through. The air was thick with the scent of earth and moss. The damp grass that peeked between the stones beneath me caressed my cheeks like my mother just did a moment ago. I pushed myself upright, groaning as I felt the muscles in my arms tremble. That was strange, too. I hadn’t felt strength like this in years. The illness had drained me of everything, leaving me brittle and weak. Yet, as I moved now, I felt... solid. Whole.
I glanced down at my hands, half-expecting to see the pale, thin fingers I was used to, the skin stretched taut over knobby bones. But that’s not what I saw.
My skin was smooth—a warm ivory instead of the sickly pallor I’d grown accustomed to. My hands looked... elegant. Strong. I turned them over slowly, a wave of unease creeping through me.
This wasn’t my body.
The wind picked up slightly, blowing through my hair and pushing it to my face. I touched the strands and looked down. My hair that had once waved over my frame, my hair that had fallen off due to the radiation, had now returned, curling softly around my long fair fingers.
Strange , I thought to myself. It used to be strawberry blonde, but now it’s… white?
Heart racing, I scrambled to my feet, half-stumbling as I took in my surroundings. Ancient stone ruins rose around me, overgrown with vines and moss, crumbling but still standing tall in places. The ground was uneven, littered with fallen branches and scattered stones, the remnants of something long-forgotten. I spun in a slow circle, disoriented, trying to make sense of it all. A dense forest stretched out beyond the ruins, the trees towering high above me. The air here was alive, vibrant, humming with an energy I could almost feel under my skin.
But none of this makes sense. I shouldn’t be here. I should be... gone.
I sank back to my knees, a rush of cold dread suddenly filling my chest. I had died. I knew I had. So how could I be... here ? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm the frantic pulse in my veins. This wasn’t a dream. The cool air brushing against my skin, the sounds of birds chirping in the distance, the smell of damp earth—everything was too real, too vivid.
My heart pounded louder, and I opened my eyes again, looking around, searching for answers. But there was nothing. No explanation, no clue as to why I was here. Only these ruins and the strange feeling of being... other .
I forced myself to stand again, trying to steady my breath. My legs felt stronger than they ever had, but I was still shaking. What had happened to me?
I took a deep breath, trying to focus.
My eyes wandered across the ruins again, and that’s when I saw it—half-hidden under a mound of moss and fallen stones. Something metallic glinted in the shadows.
I wobbled towards it and crouched down, brushing the debris aside.
What’s this?
My fingers pricked as I uncovered an ancient-looking dagger, its hilt intricately carved with strange symbols that pulsed faintly in the light. And the blade… it was still sharp, its metal—or was it some sort of dark crystal—seemed to glow, pulsating as if it had a heartbeat. My hand hovered over it for a moment before I finally grasped the hilt.
The moment my fingers touched it, a strange warmth surged through me, like the blade was alive, like it was recognizing me. Energy thrummed under my skin, a quiet hum.
What the fuck is this?
The dagger felt light in my hand as I slowly straightened, the weight of it familiar despite the strangeness of everything around me. My heart was still racing, but the panic had dulled, replaced by a deep sense of curiosity.
I looked around me yet again. The quiet ruins stretched out in front of me, overrun by nature. Vines crawled up crumbling stone walls, and moss covered the once-smooth floor, now cracked and uneven. Despite its state, there was something majestic about the place. It felt as though I had stumbled into the remnants of a forgotten world, long hidden from the rest of existence. There was a… sensation in the air, subtle but constant, like the stones were singing.
How did I get here? Is this some kind of burial place? A graveyard? Did they forget to bury me? Did the hospital make a mistake?
As I took a step forward, a cool breeze swept through the clearing, and I shivered. The sensation startled me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced down at myself, and for the first time, truly registered what I was—or wasn’t—wearing.
Well, shit.
I hadn’t even realised it, but I was completely bare. My cheeks flushed as a wave of embarrassment washed over me, though there was no one here to see. I wrapped my arms around myself instinctively, shielding my chest, feeling suddenly vulnerable.
I scanned the area, desperate for something— anything —I could wear. My eyes landed on a small archway leading deeper into the ruins. The stone beyond it looked more intact, sheltered from the elements. Maybe there was something there.
I hurried toward it, moving carefully across the uneven ground, each step echoing lightly against the stone. The air grew cooler as I entered the shadowy corridor, my feet silent on the moss-covered floor. The walls here were carved with intricate symbols—that kind of matched the dagger, if I think about it now—and patterns, worn down by time but still beautiful.
At the end of the corridor, I found a small room—more of a chamber, really. The roof had partially caved in, but there was still enough protection to have kept this place more intact than the rest of the ruins. In the corner, partially buried under debris and fallen leaves, I spotted what looked like a chest, its wooden frame half-decayed but still holding together.
I knelt down, setting the weird dagger beside me as I brushed away the dirt and leaves, revealing the chest's lid. My fingers found the edges, and with a little effort, I pried it open. The hinges creaked in protest, but it opened, revealing a tangle of old, tattered cloth.
I pulled a piece out, shaking it free from the dirt and dust. It was a simple garment—an old, faded tunic, soft and worn but still intact enough to wear. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. I slipped it over my head, the fabric falling loosely over my newly slender frame. It felt strange, like it belonged to someone else, but it was warm, and for that I was grateful.
As I stood, adjusting the tunic so it hung more comfortably, I caught a glimpse of something else at the bottom of the chest. I reached down, pulling out a thin, woven belt and a pair of worn leather boots. They, too, were old, but still serviceable. I slipped them on, feeling the sturdy leather wrap around my legs, the belt cinching the tunic at my waist. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to make me feel less exposed.
I exhaled, feeling a bit more like myself.
The dagger called to me again, its presence subtle but persistent. I picked it up and slid it into the belt at my side. It felt right there, like it belonged—no, like I belonged here, in this strange place.
I stepped out of the chamber, feeling a little more composed, my mind still buzzing with questions. As I explored further, I noticed more signs of the ruins' former glory. Broken statues lined the edges of the courtyard beyond, their faces worn smooth by time but still retaining a hint of their former majesty. At first, I had thought they were humans… but no. I slowly walked closer and ran my fingers over one of them, feeling the faint traces of a strange… thrum in the stone. These… creatures… looked unearthly, tall and slender and ethereal… And their ears… Those ears were pointed?
The worrying feeling of dread crept over me again, the wind howling through the open spaces between the faceless statues.
The forest around me seemed to whisper with the wind, the trees swaying in a rhythm I could almost understand. I never knew such a place existed.
It does… exist, right? Does it? I looked back up to the statue in front of me.
If this isn’t a human… am I still on earth? Can I be still on earth? Or is this actually… the beyond? Where am I?
Trying to stop myself from overthinking again, I started wandering through the overgrown paths, brushing past ferns and vines, my eyes scanning for any other signs of life or answers. But the deeper I ventured, the more this place seemed unreal. And I was completely and utterly alone.
As I came to a halt before another towering, crumbling archway, I stood still, listening to the wind as it whispered through the trees. I should have been terrified. By all rights, I should have been panicking, overwhelmed by the impossible reality I found myself in.
But instead, my thoughts were urging me to go on, to overcome the dread, to continue.
***
I continued walking, going deeper and deeper into the forest, leaving the strangely comforting ruins behind me.
The forest seemed to stretch endlessly before me, a dense tangle of trees and underbrush, but as I pressed on, the ruins slowly faded into the distance behind me. The sunlight filtering through the canopy grew warmer, the sharp angles of the ancient stone giving way to the softness of nature.
I moved carefully, listening to the soft crunch of leaves underfoot, feeling the gentle pull of the earth as my boots sank slightly into the forest floor. The dagger at my side provided a strange sense of comfort, though I hadn’t yet encountered anything to warrant using it. And let’s just not think about what could warrant it.
Hours passed, I think—I wasn’t sure how long I’d been walking. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees, painting the world in shades of amber and gold. The warmth of the day began to cool, the breeze picking up as dusk approached.
Then, through the thick branches and leaves, I saw it—a small clearing up ahead, with some kind of small building in its centre.
I quickened my pace, heart lifting with hope, and as I emerged from the trees, I saw it clearly: a cottage. Small, quaint, with a thatched roof and stone walls, it looked like it had been plucked from another time entirely. A single wisp of smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and the scent of freshly turned earth mingled with the smell of woodsmoke.
My breath caught. This was the first sign of civilization I’d seen since waking up in the ruins.
Is this it? Was I sent back in time?
As I stepped closer, my eyes were drawn to the figure in front of the cottage. A young man stood in the field surrounding the house, his back to me as he worked the earth with a hoe. His broad shoulders flexed with each movement, and his fiery red hair caught the last of the sunlight, glowing like embers. He seemed focused on his task, unaware of my approach.
I stopped at the edge of the clearing, suddenly unsure. What if he was dangerous? Or worse—what if he thought I was dangerous?
But I couldn’t turn back now. The sun was sinking fast, and I had no idea where I was or where I could find shelter for the night. This cottage, this stranger—they were my best chance.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward, trying to gather my courage. My boots crunched softly on the ground as I approached, and after a few steps, the man straightened, turning slightly as if he’d sensed me before hearing me.
He turned fully now, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His eyes found mine, and I stopped in my tracks, heart thudding in my chest. Up close, he was even more striking than I’d first realised. His features were sharp, yet warm, with a strong jawline and high cheekbones. His eyes—a vibrant green—glinted with curiosity, but not suspicion.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, the silence stretching between us. Then he broke it with a soft, but rich voice.
‘Are you lost?’
There was no accusation in his tone, only genuine concern. His gaze flickered briefly to my worn tunic and boots, to the dagger at my side, before meeting my eyes again.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I nodded silently, unsure what to say. Could I really explain everything to a stranger? Not when I didn’t even understand it myself?
His brow furrowed slightly, though his expression remained kind. He carefully dropped the hoe to the ground, then took a few steps toward me. ‘You’re not from around here, are you?’
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak without my voice trembling.
He glanced back at the cottage, then at the sky, where the sun was now barely visible behind the treetops. ‘It's getting late,’ he said, almost to himself. Then his gaze returned to me, soft but intent. ‘You shouldn’t be out here alone, not with night coming. Why don’t you come inside? You can rest, and we can talk.’
There was a warmth in his offer that made me want to believe him. Still, a flicker of hesitation held me back. I didn’t know this man, or what he might want from me.
He must have sensed my uncertainty because he smiled—a small, reassuring smile that softened his features. ‘I’m Daniel,’ he said, his voice gentle but firm, like he wanted to make sure I knew he meant no harm. ‘I live here alone. No tricks, no traps. Just an open door if you need one.’
I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. ‘Saeris,’ I said quietly. ‘My name is Saeris.’
His smile grew a little wider, and he nodded. ‘Well, Saeris, you’re welcome to stay the night if you need. The forest can be dangerous after dark.’
I glanced at the trees behind me, the shadows growing thicker, darker, and realised he was right. The thought of spending the night alone in the forest made my skin prickle. The cottage felt like a sanctuary compared to the unknown wilderness beyond.
Perhaps I should’ve stayed in those ruins?
‘Thank you,’ I said finally, the words awkward on my tongue but sincere. I stepped closer, and he motioned for me to follow him toward the door.
As we walked together, side by side, I stole a glance at him. There was something about Daniel—something grounded, something real—that made me feel safer than I had since waking up. And for the first time today, I felt a small flicker of hope.
Maybe I had finally found someone who could help me make sense of all this.
***
The inside of Daniel’s cottage was cosy, a warm contrast to the chill of dusk outside. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the wooden walls. The air smelled of burning wood and something savoury simmering over the fire—soup, maybe. The whole place felt lived in, well-loved, with shelves lined with books and jars of herbs, and a small table set with rough-hewn wooden chairs.
Daniel gestured for me to sit at the table, and I eased into one of the chairs, feeling the tension in my body slowly unwind. For the first time since waking in that strange place, I felt a momentary sense of normalcy. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.
But as Daniel sat across from me, his curious eyes watching me closely, the reality of my situation settled back in. I had so many questions—questions I didn’t even know how to begin asking.
I cleared my throat, hesitating for a moment. If I was sent back in time, I have to be careful. I don’t want to be called a witch and burned at the stake or something. ‘What... date is it?’
Daniel raised an eyebrow at the question but didn’t seem to find it odd. He leaned back slightly, thinking for a moment. ‘It’s the 15th of Bloomingtide,’ he said with a casual shrug, as though the answer should have been obvious. ‘8:11 Blessed Age.’
My heart skipped a beat. That wasn’t a date I recognized—none of it was. Bloomingtide? Blessed Age? My pulse quickened as I tried to make sense of it. Maybe it was some kind of local calendar system, something I just hadn’t heard of before. But... I should have. This wasn’t like any time—or place I knew.
I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table a little tighter. ‘Where exactly am I?’
Daniel frowned slightly, clearly puzzled by my confusion. ‘You’re near Gwaren, in the southern edge of the Brecilian Forest.’ His eyes narrowed a bit, as if gauging my reaction. ‘You really don’t know where you are?’
I shook my head slowly, dread creeping up my spine. ‘No... Gwaren doesn’t sound familiar.’
His confusion deepened, and he seemed to choose his next words carefully, as though trying to figure out what I could possibly mean. ‘We’re in Ferelden.´
When I continued to stare at him blankly, Daniel shook his head and gave me a breathless laugh, as if he couldn’t believe I didn’t know, ´In Thedas?’
My mind went blank for a moment, then raced, tumbling through everything I knew. None of this made sense. Gwaren? Ferelden? Thedas? Those names meant nothing to me.
Or haven’t I heard of Thedas before? Where? When?
A cold knot of panic twisted in my chest. I stared at him, my vision narrowing as the room seemed to tilt. I shook my head, unable to process what he was saying. ‘No,’ I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. ‘That’s... that can’t be right.’
Is there a camera somewhere? Am I being Punked? Is that it?
Daniel leaned forward, concern flickering in his eyes now. ‘Saeris—’
I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. My legs felt shaky beneath me, and I stumbled back, my breath coming in shallow gasps. ‘This isn’t Earth,’ I whispered, the realisation crashing down on me with a weight that made it hard to breathe.
Daniel stood as well, hands raised slightly, as if trying to calm me. ‘No, it’s not. I don’t know what “Earth” is, but you’re in Ferelden, in southern Thedas.’ He repeated.
I shook my head, backing up toward the door. ‘No... no, this isn’t real.’ I could feel the walls closing in, my heart racing, the panic building until it was a roar in my ears. This wasn’t just some remote corner of the world I didn’t recognize or a different time period I was somehow sent back to. This was an entirely different world altogether.
The dagger at my side felt heavy, like it was tethering me to this impossible reality. ‘I’m... I’m not supposed to be here,’ I whispered, my voice cracking. ‘I’m dead. I died .’
Daniel took a cautious step toward me, his voice soft but steady. ‘Saeris, please, just breathe. I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re here now. And you’re safe.’
Safe? The word felt hollow. How could I be safe when I didn’t even know what this world was?
I stumbled back another step, the walls of the small cottage pressing in on me.
Daniel’s voice was calm, but I could hear the concern beneath it. ‘Saeris... whatever’s happened, I’ll help you. I swear it. But you need to tell me more. Please.’
I wanted to tell him—wanted to explain everything that was swirling inside my head—but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, all I could think was that I wasn’t on Earth anymore. I wasn’t anywhere I knew.
I wasn’t home.
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I swallowed them back, my throat tight. I didn’t know what to do, where to go, or how to even begin processing this. How could I? How could anyone?
Daniel stayed where he was, his hands still raised in a gesture of calm, his eyes locked on mine. ‘We can figure this out together.’
But as I stood there, my breath threatening to choke me, I felt more alone than I ever had in my entire life. I shook my head. I need to go back. Back to… what? I was dead. A tear rolled down my cheek. Dead. My mum, my father, my brother, my friends, I will never see them again. Do they miss me? Will they bury me?
Daniel stood a few paces away from me, his hands still raised slightly, like he was trying to soothe a frightened animal. His expression was steady, but his eyes were full of concern. After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice soft. ‘Please, if you don’t tell me what happened, I can’t help you. What is an elf wandering around these forests? You don’t look Dalish? Did you run from an alienage? You don’t look like a city elf either. Are you a slave? Did you run away from the Imperium?’ He looked me up and down. ‘Did someone hurt you?’
One of his questions had hit me like a slap, jolting me out of my spiralling panic. I blinked at him, my mind struggling to make sense of what he had just said.
‘An elf?’ I echoed, my voice barely a whisper. ‘What do you mean, an elf?’
Daniel’s brow furrowed, clearly confused by my reaction. ‘You... you’re an elf. I thought you knew.’
For a heartbeat, the room was silent, my mind whirling in confusion. Slowly, like I was afraid of what I might find, I reached up and touched the side of my head. My fingers brushed over something unfamiliar—something pointed.
My heart skipped a beat, and my breath hitched in my throat.
No. That can’t be...
I stumbled toward the corner of the room where a small mirror hung on the wall, my footsteps uneven and heavy. The world felt like it was spinning again, tilting off its axis. I gripped the edge of the wooden table for support as I reached the mirror, my gaze fixed on the ground. I didn’t want to look—didn’t want to confirm what I already knew.
But I had to.
Slowly, I lifted my head, forcing my eyes to meet my reflection. And when I did, I shrieked.
The face staring back at me wasn’t truly mine. It resembled me , but... not.
My heart thundered in my chest as I leaned closer to the mirror, my hands trembling as they reached up to touch the face in the reflection. My skin was still pale, but sharper somehow, more delicate. My cheekbones were higher, my features refined, and there, framed by my long hair, were the pointed ears of an elf. I traced the shape of them with shaking fingers, unable to comprehend what I was seeing.
And my hair... it wasn’t just white. It was pure silver, like moonlight cascading down my back in soft waves. And my eyes—oh, God, my eyes .
I gasped as I stared at them, panic rising in my throat like bile.
My right eye was the same as it had always been; a soft, pale blue. But my left ...
My left eye was a brilliant emerald green, glowing faintly like there was magic swirling beneath the surface of my iris. It felt... wrong. Alien. Like I was looking at someone else entirely. It didn’t just reflect light—it held it, pulsing with an energy I couldn’t understand.
I backed away from the mirror, my heart racing. ‘No... no, this isn’t right. This isn’t me .’ My voice trembled as I spoke, but the reflection didn’t change. I turned to Daniel, who stood watching me, his expression a mixture of sympathy and worry. ‘I’m not an elf,’ I whispered, shaking my head as if I could will it to be true. ‘I wasn’t... I wasn’t like this.’
Daniel took a careful step forward, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘You didn’t know?’
‘I didn’t—’ I stopped, pressing my hands to my face, trying to suppress the panic bubbling up again. ‘I wasn’t like this before,’ I repeated, my voice weak. ‘I wasn’t this .’
Daniel hesitated, then slowly moved toward the table, sitting down across from me. ‘You’ve... changed?’ he asked carefully. ‘From what? Who were you before?’
I looked at him. How could I even begin to explain this? I didn’t understand it myself. All I knew was that I had died. I had died as a human, and somehow, I had woken up here— like this . ‘I am human,’ I whispered, my voice barely audible. ‘I was human.’
Daniel’s eyes widened in shock, but he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.
‘I died,’ I said, my voice shaking. ’I... I don’t know how I ended up here. I woke up in the ruins, and I—’ I stopped, choking on the words. My reflection in the mirror felt like a cruel joke. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the person I had known my whole life. These pointed ears, the sharp features, the silver hair, and the eyes …
Tears welled up, but I blinked them away, my hands gripping the edge of the table to steady myself. The world felt like it was crumbling around me, everything I had known torn away.
The reflection in the mirror seemed to blur as my breathing quickened, each shallow gasp clawing at my throat. My chest felt tight, like the world was closing in around me, suffocating me. I gripped the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white, trying to steady myself, trying to pull myself out of the spiral of panic that was swallowing me whole. But every time I looked back at the mirror—at those pointed ears, that silver hair, and the glowing green eye—I felt myself falling deeper into it.
‘No, no, no…’ I whispered, shaking my head, as if denial could somehow undo this nightmare. My hands went to my face, trembling uncontrollably. My heart pounded so fast it felt like it might burst out of my chest.
The air in the room suddenly felt colder, heavier, as if it were thickening around me. The fire in the hearth flickered, and the shadows in the room seemed to stretch, creeping toward me like a living thing. I barely noticed it, too consumed by the storm inside me, but something in the room had shifted—something dark.
‘I can’t— I can’t breathe,’ I gasped, feeling as if the very air had been sucked out of the room. My vision narrowed, dark spots dancing in my periphery, and I stumbled back, the world spinning. My skin felt cold, my whole body trembling. I couldn't escape it, the sheer terror of the truth I was staring at.
I wasn’t me . I was something else. Something wrong .
Suddenly, Daniel jolted up from his chair, his expression no longer just concerned—it was wary, alert. His body tensed, eyes scanning the room as if sensing something I couldn’t.
‘Saeris!’ he called sharply, his voice cutting through the haze of my panic. ‘Do you—do you know you’re a mage?’
But I didn’t hear him. I shook while I was still looking in the mirror. And a stranger looked right back at me.