Reckoning

As we moved toward the back door, I noticed a group of knights stationed there, their stances firm and ready. Beside them stood Fiona and Clara, their faces tense with determination.

"My lady," Fiona asked, her voice laced with concern, "where is Serra?"

"I fired her," I replied, my tone cold and final. "She's left the mansion."

A knight stepped forward and opened the door. "Let's go, ladies," he said.

The chill of the night rushed in as we stepped outside. The rain had finally stopped, but the ground was slick and treacherous. The biting cold seeped into my bones as we began our ascent into the mountains.

And then, cutting through the darkness, a voice called out.

"Erana."

The sound of that voice froze me in my tracks. I knew it all too well.

The knights immediately closed ranks around us, their weapons drawn as shadows began to move in the dark. Figures emerged, cloaked in malice, and chaos erupted as blades clashed.

A few figures broke through the fight, rushing toward us. Fiona and Clara stepped forward without hesitation, their weapons flashing as they fought to protect us.

"Lady Grace, Lady Selene," a knight urged urgently. "Please, go! Leave this to us!"

Grace grabbed my hand, and together we ran, the sounds of battle echoing behind us.

As we ran, the icy air burning my lungs, my steps faltered. Standing before me, his presence suffocating, was Duke Kaelric Solandris.

My heart seized, and a wave of terror consumed me. My body began to tremble violently, each muscle locking in place. It wasn't just fear—it was something deeper, darker. A terror that gripped my very soul, and I couldn't understand why.

His figure loomed ominously, his silhouette glowing faintly against the darkness as though carved from shadow. His presence felt inhuman, a manifestation of obsession itself.

Grace tugged at my arm, trying to pull me forward. "Selene, we have to go!" she urged desperately. But I couldn't move. It felt as if my body no longer belonged to me, as if the system had taken control again, leaving me frozen in place.

"Erana Solandris," the duke's voice rumbled, smooth and chilling. He extended a hand toward me. "My daughter, come back to me."

"What the hell are you talking about, you bastard?!" Grace snapped, stepping between us, her voice sharp with fury. "She's not Erana—she's Selene!"

The duke's lips curled into a sinister grin as knights rushed forward, encircling us. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as though he thrived on the chaos unfolding around him.

Grace drew her weapon and charged toward the fray, slashing through the enemies with unyielding determination. But I still stood there, paralyzed, helpless. I wanted to move, to protect her, but my body refused to obey.

Kaelric stepped closer, his presence oppressive and unrelenting. His hand gripped mine, cold and unyielding. "Let's go," he commanded, his voice devoid of any warmth.

"No," I choked out, my voice trembling. "No, I don't want to go with you."

Grace came charging toward us, her blade slicing through the air as she shoved him away. "Didn't you hear her?!" she shouted. "She doesn't want to go with you!"

Suddenly, as if breaking free from invisible chains, I regained control of my body. My legs moved, my hands steady, and I walked toward him, each step deliberate.

"I will go with you," I said softly, my voice calm yet trembling beneath the surface.

His eyes glinted with victory, and a twisted smile spread across his face. "Really?" he asked, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

The moment his guard dropped, I struck.

With a swift, practiced motion, I pulled out the knife I had hidden—the blade I had kept for my own demise—and drove it into his side. The sharp edge cut through his flesh, and his eyes widened, the cruel grin vanishing.

"I will go with you," I hissed, my voice shaking with fury, "to hell."

Blood stained my hand, warm and slick, as I withdrew the blade. But I knew it wasn't enough—not enough to kill him. He staggered, his breath shallow, but he still stood.

I turned without looking back and grabbed Grace's hand. "Run," I urged, my voice desperate.

We ran, the chaos of the battle fading into the background, the pounding of my heart deafening in my ears. My mind raced as fast as my legs, too overwhelmed to process what had just happened.

But then, Grace stopped.

I stumbled to a halt and turned to her,

confused.

And that's when I saw it.

A sword protruded from her chest, the hilt glinting in the dim light. Her breath hitched, her eyes wide in shock. Behind her stood Duke Kaelric, his hand still gripping the weapon.

Time seemed to stop as Grace collapsed.

"Grace!" I rushing forward, catching her just before she hit the ground. But it was too late.

She was dying.

She fell. Grace fell.

I saw it vaguely, like a cruel haze of reality slipping into focus. Duke Kaelric had not meant to stab Grace—his blade was meant for me. But she stepped in front of it, shielding me with her body.

"Why did you do this?" I whispered, my voice hollow, my eyes blank and unseeing. "We're not even close."

Grace coughed, blood staining her lips as she gave me the faintest of smiles. "I am your older sister," she said, her voice weak but resolute. "I was born to protect you."

Her words struck me like a dagger, deeper than any blade.

Behind me, Duke Kaelric staggered, blood dripping from his wound as he clutched his side. He coughed violently, yet his voice remained steady as he rasped, "As you said, Selene... let's go to hell together."

Before I could process his words, another figure stormed into the chaos. My father.

"Selene Astraloyn is my daughter!" he roared, his presence commanding, his sword flashing in the dim light as he charged at Kaelric. "Anyone who dares to harm her will face my wrath first!"

The air filled with the clash of steel as my father and Duke Kaelric fought viciously, their blows heavy with hatred and bloodlust. Duke Kaelric was already bloodied, his movements slower now, but he didn't stop.

My father was bloodied, his armor dented and stained crimson. He stood tall despite the wounds, but his movements were slower, labored. He had been fighting too long, just like everyone else.

He turned, his gaze falling on Grace's lifeless body, and then on me. His eyes were hollow, filled with sorrow deeper than I could comprehend.

"Go," he said, his voice breaking under the weight of the word. "You can change it."

Change what? What did he mean? My mind spun, unable to piece it together. I stared at him, frozen, my thoughts muddled and useless. At that moment, I felt as though I had forgotten how to think.

He didn't explain. Instead, he turned back toward Duke Kaelric and raised his sword. They clashed, but this time Kaelric was too wounded to retaliate. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

The battlefield still raged. Knights fought on, steel clashing and cries filling the cold air. My father stood amidst it all, his sword lowered, his shoulders heavy with despair.

He looked down at Grace's body once more, his voice hollow yet sharp enough to pierce the chaos. "We have to protect the North," he roared.

'Even knowing it would fall, he still fought, driven by a duty too heavy to abandon.'

His words ignited something in the knights around him. They fought harder, their resolve like fire against the darkness closing in.

And then, through the din, Fiona's voice rang out. "My lady!" she screamed, desperation lacing every syllable. "You must live! You must take revenge!"

Her words snapped me out of my daze. My body moved on its own, my feet stumbling at first but then gaining speed. I ran.

But why?

I didn't know why I was running. My mind was a storm of confusion. Didn't I want to die? Didn't I want it all to end? Yet, my feet didn't stop. They carried me forward, away from the blood, the chaos, and the weight of it all.

Each step felt like betrayal. I left behind Grace's lifeless body, my father's sorrow, and the knights' cries. But as I ran, something deep within me stirred—an ember flickering to life.

This wasn't the end.

No, this was only the beginning.

At that moment, I discovered a desire to live.

If I lived, it wasn't to cower or to mourn. It was to rise. To fight. To destroy those who took everything from me.

The only goal I had left was revenge, but it was different from what the owner of this body had once desired.