But I had to swallow the fear away. My hands were shaking, but I forced myself to step closer to the mirror. She stepped closer too. Her gaze was fierce, powerful. She was me—just... stronger. Like a warrior. She had this look in her eyes, like she'd lived through a thousand battles, like she knew pain more deeply than I ever could.
I leaned in until my forehead almost touched the mirror. The reflection did the same. For a second, it was like I saw all of myself. My past, my fears, everything.
And then, trembling, the words slipped out of my mouth.
"Who are you?"
She laughed. A dark, haunting laugh that echoed in my chest.
"I am you."
And before I could even react, the mirror shattered—glass exploding outward. I screamed, but the sound never came out. Everything turned black.
I woke up to sunlight on my face. My head hurt. I looked around and realized I was lying on the floor. The mirror—shattered. Completely broken. My heart was racing. Was it a dream?
But the fear still lingered in my bones.
How am I even supposed to explain this to my father? I couldn't care less. What really mattered was what I saw… She said she was me. How is that possible?
I stared at my reflection—well, what was left of it in the broken pieces—and whispered to myself, "I think I still have a lot more to find out."
I got dressed slowly, my head still spinning. When I was about to leave, my sister walked in. She acted like nothing happened, but I could tell she was still mad from yesterday. She put her hand on my shoulder and smiled a little too hard.
"Let's go back to the village."
I just nodded. No energy to argue.
As we entered the village, it felt… off. Like something was in the air. My sister told me that today the emperor had invited important people, which explained the crowds. Again, I nodded, but I wasn't really listening.
Then I heard some boys behind us.
"Knights are nothing," one of them joked. "But these ladies? Damn."
I turned and raised an eyebrow.
"Ah, so that was your attempt at flirting? Please tell me it was a school project."
My sister gasped and nudged me hard. "Don't say anything!" she whispered, then gave them her sweetest smile.
Ugh.
While she laughed and flirted back, I slipped away through the crowd.
It's not that I hate guys. I just hate how they act like we exist for their entertainment. Like they own the moment. I wanted air. Space.
I kept walking until I passed a weapons stand—knives, swords, everything. Something pulled me toward it. I stopped in front of the table and looked at the seller.
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"
I crossed my arms. "Should I go somewhere else? Maybe to someone who knows how to treat customers?"
He blinked, then chuckled and showed me one of his best knives. I bought it. No hesitation. A girl with a knife in her pocket? Sounds about right.
As I walked through the crowd again, something happened.
A young man passed me.
I've passed a thousand people before, but this…
this was different.
A cold wind brushed over me. I turned around fast—he was already a few steps ahead. My heart skipped. Without thinking, I ran after him. When I reached him, I grabbed his arm.
He turned. And when our eyes met—I forgot how to breathe.
I knew him. No… I felt him. Something inside me stirred. He looked surprised, then confused.
"Hello, young lady. Is everything okay?"
I nodded slowly. "Do I… know you?"
He hesitated. His eyes were warm, curious. Then he leaned forward, looking closer at my neck.
He noticed the scar. No one ever did.
Usually, I'd push away anyone who came that close. But this time… it felt right. Familiar.
He whispered, "No, I don't think we've met. You're just… very pretty."
Before I could answer, a voice screamed from behind.
"ELOULA! WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS RUNNING OFF?"
My sister.
She rushed over and stopped when she saw us.
"Aha! So THAT'S why you keep disappearing. Meeting up with men?"
I rolled my eyes. "Sometimes running away isn't cowardice. It's a last attempt to save yourself."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Do you even know him?"
I glanced back at the guy. His expression was still calm… but his eyes—he knew something too.
"No. But it feels like I do."
She looked him up and down and scoffed. "He just smiled. Big deal."
But I knew that smile. I knew it.
She grabbed my arm.
"Stop bothering that man!"
I pulled back. "BUT I KNOW HIM!"
"NO, YOU DON'T!" she yelled.
We started yelling over each other. My voice cracked.
"You've been acting so weird lately," she shouted. "With that mirror, and now this guy—what is WRONG with you?"
"I SAW MYSELF! I HAD BLOOD ON ME, SHORT HAIR—"
She slapped me across the face.
The crowd went silent around us.
"Oh please," she hissed. "You'd never cut your hair. You LOVE your hair."
The rage hit me so hard I couldn't stop it. My whole body shook.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the knife I just bought. Without thinking, without hesitation, I grabbed a handful of my long hair—and sliced.
The hair fell to the ground.
Now shoulder-length.
Everyone stared. Even she backed away, pale.
I looked at her with fire in my eyes.
"I did love my hair. But I love this moment more."
She didn't speak.
No one did.