Chapter Text
(A few hours ago…)
Down the harshly lit hallway of Singapore General Hospital, 17-year-old Yulia ran, breath ragged and limbs burning. Sweat dampened her school uniform. Her legs burned with every step, but the fear numbed them. The second phone call she received replayed in her head like a broken record.
‘Your mother has been rushed to the hospital. An accident. It’s serious.’
The sight awaiting her inside twisted something deep in her chest. Her mother lay on the hospital bed, fragile, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths.
“Mom!” A cry tore from her as she rushed forward.
Her mother’s eyes fluttered open. “Yue Yue,” she whispered, her voice so soft Yulia had to lean in to hear. A name that only their family ever used.
“I’m here, Mom,” Her voice cracked through the tears. “I’m here.”
“Find him…”
Yulia’s breath hitched.
Before the nurse’s call, there had been her mother’s. Desperate. Fleeting.
But the words came too late. Her mother’s eyes had already dimmed, the unspoken name slipping away with her final breath.
— — —
(Presently…)
The afternoon amber light cut across the quiet living room as Yulia woke. Blinking through the haze, disorientation gripped her.
Scanning the living room, her gaze fell on the neatly arranged piles of clothes and storage boxes around her.
“Mm…” Groaning, she pushed herself upright, braids tumbling forward. Her school uniform clung in wrinkled folds from the afternoon nap. With all the packing, she hadn't bothered changing out of the white shirt and pleated skirt.
Clunk.
A pair of amethyst drop earrings, tipped faintly with light blue, fell to the floor beside her. They glinted faintly, like the fading echo of their past owner.
Her hands trembled as she picked them up.
These were the very earrings her father had chosen when proposing to her mother. Her mother used to wear them every day. Yet, they’d lived tucked away in a velvet pouch in recent years.
As if wearing them let the memories cling too closely.
The earrings remained in her trembling grip. With a shake of her head, she slid them into her grey pouch.
Heaving a breath, she pulled a pile of her mother’s clothes towards herself.
A whisper in her head repeated: I need to finish this. Her hands moved mechanically over the folded clothes. No one else will.
One by one, the clothes were unfolded and folded neatly into the ‘To Donate’ pile.
"Yuu, stop." A voice cracked, uncharacteristically raw. "Just take a moment.”
“I don’t have time for it, Yoru,” Yulia murmured aloud, her voice flat. The voice emerged from within her mind; Yoru. Her constant companion since the year her father passed on.
A sigh followed, not out loud, but deep in her thoughts.
“Yuu,” Yoru called out, edged with restrained concern. “You're not coping. You're running.”
Fingers hovered mid-fold, caught between duty and the pull of memory.
“Cynthia–” Yoru’s voice softened. “Your mom said that sometimes stopping is good. Maybe it’s time to stop. Just for now.”
‘Yue Yue, sometimes… The bravest thing is to stop, not keep going.’
“Then why did she stop pretending Yulian never existed?”
Yoru fell quiet.
“These years of silence,” Yulia continued. “And only when she was dying, did she finally mention him.”
The memory of her last call with her mother hung heavy.
‘Yue Yue. I’m sorry—I—I don’t think I can… see you again.’
‘Mum?’
‘Listen. Mum’s going to do something she won’t regret. Okay? Just, just remember…’
‘Mum? What’s happening?’
A sharp car horn blared. Wind rattled against the receiver.
‘Find him. Please. I was wrong to pretend he—’
The line went dead.
A laugh slipped out from Yulia. It vanished as quickly as it came, leaving the silence sharper than before.
“In the end… Both of them asked the same of me.”
Her father’s words echoed from years before, steady and unwavering.
‘He ended up there, where Yoru and I came from. One day, when the time feels right... Find him.’
Crumble.
Something crinkled beneath her knee, a slip of paper. Its corner was sticking out of a sketchbook, titled ‘Cynthia’, her mother’s art journal. Hesitant, she pulled the paper out.
It revealed a messy crayon drawing of a family of four gathered around a table, with a tall boy wearing a birthday hat, and a short girl showing him a sketch. There was a line of colourful scribbles at the top which read, ‘HAPPY 19TH BIRTHDAY, YULIAN’.
“All this time…” Her breath caught. “I thought… She threw everything Yulian owned. She kept this. My drawing for him.”
A flush of heat bloomed in her chest. The shapes blurred before her eyes as she stared at the child’s scrawl. A hitch in her breath. Then stillness. No tears. Not yet.
She stood, drawing a long breath, as if she moved carefully enough, the ache in her throat might not break open.
It’s not grief , Yulia thought. I just need–
“I need some space.”
— — —
By the time Yulia had gathered her strength to get out of her HDB block, the sun had set. Everything felt like a blur. Hands clenching the grey pouch, she wandered.
Approaching the locked main entrance of her primary school, she traced the gate with her fingers.
The clang of the school gate against her fingertips echoed faintly. Then came a flicker, sweet and sunlit.
(Eight years ago…)
Her brother arrived late, sprinting through the gate.
Annoyed, little Yulia had avoided his eyes when he knelt to apologise for being late..
However, Yulian knew her well. With a mention of his mango birthday cake waiting for them, little Yulia relented. She allowed him to give her a piggyback ride like usual.
Before long, the older sibling listened to his younger sister’s cheerful rambling as they walked towards home.
When they neared the last crosswalk before their block, Yulian gently set Yulia down.
Rattle, rattle. Thud.
He spun toward the sound, his eyes widening in horror.
Peeking past her brother’s side, her eyes twinkled with childlike wonder.
A black, ornate carriage, drawn by a menacing, unblinking horse, was charging down the street toward them.
“Yulia!” Her brother had shouted, pulling her urgently into his arms. Then, he swung himself in front of her as a shield.
Neigh!
The horse let out a neigh, its echo reverberating in the empty street.
Yulian's unsteady voice pierced through her ears.
‘Hold onto me.’
He tightened his grip around her small frame, his fingers pressing into her shoulders.
A blinding blue light shone from the rose-gold locket around his neck, a present gifted from their father.
Next thing she knew, there was a distance between her and her brother.
They had been flung onto the road.
Lids fluttering, the girl crawled toward him, reaching out just enough to grab his hand.
She knew she couldn't let go of it. No matter what.
Yet, when she awoke hours later, her tiny fingers were grasping nothing but air.
(Presently…)
The memory dissolved.
Now, older hands trembled as the wind tugged at her sleeves.
At the edge of the crosswalk, she froze. The same white stripes. The same worn pedestrian button. Even the same hollow quiet that had come just before…
She couldn’t finish the thought. Her feet froze.
Fingers clenched around her locket. It wasn't her brother’s, but similar. It was a gift from their father after Yulian's disappearance.
'Wear this every day.'
The rose-gold surface warmed under her touch. Her father's words echoed next.
'The charm inside isn't just for show. It'll protect you when you need it most. Once.’
‘Protect us from what–?’
Rattle, rattle. Thud.
"Yuu, wait!" Yoru's mental voice spiked like a warning siren. Her locket seared against her skin as she turned, but it was too late.
“Yoru, what’s–” Yulia called out without thinking.
Neigh!
The locket burned against her chest, not cold, but bright.
She barely felt her eyes closing before a blue light flared.
The hum of the street faded into a ringing silence.
Just like eight years ago.
— — —
When her eyes opened again, her surroundings had changed.
A hallway revealed itself to her. Cold stone stretched endlessly in both directions.
Something shifted at the far end of the hallway, accompanied by a mellow, faded whisper.
Hesitation tugged at her feet, but her eyes followed the sound.
An echo of laughter brushed past her. A child’s silhouette dashed toward the void, back turned to her.
Instinct took hold. She lunged.
The hallway flickered. The child was gone.
Each step grew quicker, urgency overtaking caution.
Finally, she reached the source: a floating mirror with green flames in its reflection.
Unfazed, Yulia's right hand traced the engravings of the mirror's gold frame. Seven coffins floated around her and the mirror.
An image of a black transparent carriage carrying a coffin flickered across Yulia’s vision.
The green inferno in the mirror had disappeared.
The mirror's voice boomed. “Thee, whose image the Dark Mirror did call upon, follow thy heart's bidding, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror.”
In its reflection was a hand that reached out to her.
Almost without thinking, her hand reached out. Her heart raced, not out of fear, but out of some buried recognition. A boy’s whisper echoed, impossibly faint.
‘If birthday wishes mean anything… Just keep her safe… Please... don’t let this be the end.’
Suddenly, her hand had become as small as a child’s.
Before she had the urge to yank her arm back, the fingers of the mysterious hand wrapped around her small palm in a tight grip.
“As flames reduce even the stars to ash.”
Crimson flame crackled, devouring the hand. Heat was radiating from the mirror. The blazes had reached her hand.
Yet, Yulia felt no pain from the flames.
“As ice imprisons even time itself.”
A diamond-shaped glacier crushed the flames. Raging frost froze the edges of the mirror's frame.
This time, her arm recoiled, no longer childlike.
“As great trees swallow even the sky.”
The mirror revealed a green whirlwind of small leaves swirling in circles with a great force.
Sudden gusts of wind blew strands of her raven hair.
The voice lowered to a hush.
“Fear not the power of darkness. Come now— manifest your power.”
Blots of ink dripped down the mirror.
“To me. To them. To yourself. The hour grows long, and time is scarce for us.”
A white radiance consumed her view.
And with it, the echo of a promise, never let go.
“So no matter what may come… Never let go of that hand. Even if it happened before.”