The First Awakened Power

Lee realized that something was wrong. Her once large adult hands, with cleanly cut nails, had transformed into small, greyish-looking palms. The girl's previous short, black-as-night hair had transformed into long, blood-red locks that nearly reached her toes.

The body she was in was that of a 7-year-old child, not the 20-year-old she once was. The first thing she noticed was that the location she had woken up in was not the hospital room she had lived her entire life in. This place was cave-like and gravity-ridden. The second thing was that although hours had passed**,** she did not feel any need for food or water. When Lee had first woken up, she had been in a state of deep confusion and fear.

A major discovery, besides being in a child's body, was that she wasn't breathing. No air filled her lungs, yet she was still conscious. She also couldn't speak; no matter how hard she tried, only groans of pain passed through her lips as she clawed mercilessly at her throat, trying unsuccessfully to make sense of her condition. Not knowing how much time had passed since she woke up, she finally calmed herself through deep, rhythmic breaths taught to her by her grandmother, the comforting memory bringing her peace in the airless hole.

As more time passed, Lee was bored—bored out of her mind because, unlike this place, the vast hospital room she had lived in always contained trinkets she had built and thousands of books she had read hundreds of times. This hole had nothing but dirt and sharp, green-colored rocks. This left Lee with nothing to do but think—different emotions swirling, a prominent one being regret for her ungrateful attitude toward her cozy hospital room. Comparing where she was stuck now, this feeling grew stronger as more time passed, until finally, she felt a knot forming in her mind.

An image started to form. The clearer it got, the harder her head hurt, and as the picture grew in size, her whole body began to tremble in pain.

Then, like a whiplash, a memory formed.

The memory put her in the shape of an older woman as she looked into a mirror. The woman had a kind face and a small button nose matching her small, pink-rose lips. The woman's name was Vivian—Vivian Grey-Cloud. She was born and raised in a large family of twelve, excluding her parents, who died when she was only ten years old. Vivian then became the sole parental figure for her twelve younger siblings. She took care of them until she was in her thirties, sacrificing her education, her money, and her future so she could give her siblings a future of their own.

At the age of thirty-five, she finally got a stroke of good luck, attracting the eye of a lord who grew fond of her kind-hearted nature and beauty. This caused her to leave her family and pass the burden to the second oldest. The love she felt for her family was overshadowed by self-pity for her wasted youth and unprioritized dreams.

This lord married Vivian, promising to give her a life full of love and luxury, as well as support for her siblings, which, at first, he fulfilled. Vivian had everything she could ever dream of—a husband who adored her, a house with no leaking roofs. She didn't have to give up her share of food, for there was enough for her to eat and more... but gradually, this bright, dream-like life grew dimmer and dimmer. Her husband's wandering eye took a liking to other women of high beauty, and he gradually forgot about his wife. Her house became a lonely castle on top of a hill, with only her as the occupant. Her husband's neglect of her extended to her siblings, unbeknownst to Vivian, who still believed in the promises made long ago.

It was a stormy day when the letter carrier brought news of her family's demise.

Her whole family had died of sickness and hunger, caused by not having any shelter except for a wooden shed to live in and lacking the necessary supplies her husband had promised to send. Like this, full of regret, sorrow, and anger, Vivian became a hollow shell; you couldn't catch a glimpse of the lively girl she once was. Only a shadow remained, moving through the halls without sound, plotting and planning.

But one day, after five years of solitude, the man who had caused all this pain finally paid a visit to his forgotten wife, carrying news of his marriage to another—as well as a four-year-old son.

The next scene made Lee's stomach churn because not only could she not look away, but she could feel the emotions the older woman was experiencing. The joy, happiness, and relief as she stabbed her husband with his sword, counting each stab under her breath—each one for her wasted years with him, adding one for each of her twelve siblings' lives, from birth until death.

Lee could feel each stab as if it were her own hands thrusting the golden sword into the man's body. She could feel how the blood utterly soaked the woman, from her hair to her formal white dress.

Finally, the woman stopped.

Lee, whose face was set in a horrified expression, tears and saliva spilling from her open mouth, watched as the woman stood. She never looked at what she had done, which caused Lee to sob in gratitude. The woman continued walking until she stopped in front of the same mirror she had stood before last time.

The once gentle face had deep cuts from the lord's nails, his desperate attempt to escape. Her blood mixed with her husband's, looking like dye painted onto her skin. The kind, gentle eyes were void of emotion—dark and empty. Her pink-rose lips curved into a smile that touched her nose, blood-red teeth flashing proudly at the reflective surface.

And with one swift movement, the old woman took the small dagger next to the mirror and, without so much as a blink, stabbed it through her throat, watching as it came out the other end.

This was the last image Lee saw before her mind finally gave out, and her eyes went dark.