"Yvonne..."
Yvonne turned around at the sound of her name and the scene shifted, like a veil being drawn aside.
She found herself standing in line.
Not her—but Yvonne.
Still her. Always her.
The familiar scent of dust and sun-warmed stone filled the air, mixed with the low murmur of voices. People stood shoulder to shoulder in an orderly queue that stretched from the small office building to the road.
Old men leaned on canes. Women clutched woven baskets. Children tugged at their mothers' sleeves, laughing softly.
Everyone she knew was there.
This was the wage day.
A tight ache formed in Yvonne chest as recognition settled in. She remembered this day. Every detail of it. The hope. The relief. The fragile happiness she had been afraid to trust.
When it was her turn, she stepped forward and placed her work token on the counter. The manager—a broad man with kind eyes and graying hair—checked the ledger, then smiled.
"Here you are," he said, placing a pouch of coins into her hand.
Yvonne weighed it, then blinked. "This feels...heavier than usual."
The man chuckled. "There's a bonus this time."
Her eyes widened. "A bonus?"
"Yes. The owner was pleased with the quarter's earnings. He said everyone deserved a little extra."
Murmurs of gratitude rippled through the line.
"That's… that's very generous," Yvonne said softly.
Before she could step away, the manager added another, smaller pouch on top of the first.
"And this," he said, lowering his voice, "is for your sisters."
Yvonne stiffened. "No—no, I can't take this."
She pushed the pouch back toward him, shaking her head. "Please. It's too much."
The manager's smile faded into something gentler. "Just take it, Yvonne. Taking care of two children on your own isn't a small burden."
Voices rose behind her.
"That's right, You should take it."
"Yes. And you works harder than anyone."
"You are far too young for all that responsibility."
"You always help us whenever we need help."
Yvonne turned, startled, tears already welling in her eyes while she stood there, watching from just behind Yvonne shoulder, feeling the same ache twist through her chest.
The same helpless gratitude. The same overwhelming warmth.
"Thank you," Yvonne whispered, bowing slightly. "I won't forget this kindness. I promise."
Her green eyes shone as she clutched the pouches to her chest.
When she left the building, the sun was already beginning to dip, casting long golden shadows across the road. She headed straight for the small supermarket at the edge of town.
She moved through the narrow aisles quickly, efficiently—medicine first, then food, then necessities. Bandages. Fever reducers. Soap. Grain. Dried vegetables. She hesitated over the sweets, fingers brushing the shelf, then smiled to herself and added a small bag to the basket.
Tomorrow was their birthday.
That thought filled her with a quiet, fragile joy. Exhaustion tugged at her limbs, but it didn't matter. She was happy. Content. For once, hopeful.
At the counter, Mrs. Rose squinted at the total and waved a hand dismissively. "Pay half."
Yvonne frowned. "No, Mrs. Rose. I can't—"
"Half," the woman repeated firmly. "And don't argue with me."
After several minutes of gentle protest, Yvonne finally gave in. She left the shop with her arms full and her heart light.
That was when she saw it.
A shadow stretched unnaturally long behind Yvonne.
No—not a shadow.
A figure.
Her breath caught.
A person cloaked in dark fabric followed at a distance, steps silent, presence heavy. The memory slammed into her all at once, sharp and horrifying.
That's him.
The one who knocked her out.
"Yvonne!" She screamed. "Behind you!"
But her voice echoed uselessly, swallowed by the air. She didn't hear her. Didn't turn.
The moment she sensed something wrong, it was already too late.
A sharp blow struck the back of her head.
She crumpled.
The groceries scattered across the ground, glass shattering, grain spilling like sand.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Yvonne woke up screaming.
No—trying to scream.
But realized painfully that her head was covered and her mouth gagged.
Panic surged through Yvonne as she struggled, only to realize her hands were bound tightly behind her back.
Rope bit into her wrists. Her knees pressed painfully against cold stone.
Smoke curled around her, thick and suffocating, carrying a bitter, metallic scent.
Whispers echoed from every direction.
She strained to listen.
"Oh gods of Valeria…" a voice intoned.
The tone was reverent. Fanatical.
"The ones of earth beneath and sky above…"
Yvonne heart slammed violently against her ribs.
"Gods and goddesses of peace… hear my wish…"
No. No. No.
This wasn't just a memory.
This was the moment everything shattered.
Terror froze Yvonne limbs. She tried to scream through the gag, tears burning her eyes as she realized the truth.
This was the ritual.
Then pain exploded through her chest.
A blade pierced flesh.
White-hot agony tore through Yvonne, stealing her breath, her thoughts, her sanity. She convulsed, a muffled scream ripping from her throat as blood soaked into her clothes.
"Live in me," the voice whispered, trembling with fervor, "while I live in you…"
The world tilted.
She was shoved forward—
Falling—
Falling—
No—!
Yvonne jolted upright with a strangled gasp.
Her head throbbed as if it were being split apart. Every nerve screamed. Her body felt heavy, wrong, like it had been stitched together poorly.
"Miss! Miss—are you awake?!"
The voice was frantic.
Yvonne forced her eyes open and saw Naomi hovering over her, face pale, eyes rimmed red and dark circles bruised her delicate features.
"Naomi…" Yvonne throat burned and Naomi rushed to her side, lifting a glass to her lips in which Yvonne drank greedily, water spilling down her chin.
"You scared me," Naomi whispered, wrapping her arms around Yvonne's tightly. "You… you were in coma… I thought…"
"Naomi," Yvonne croaked. "You're crushing me."
Naomi immediately pulled back, tears streaming. "I'm sorry, Miss."
"Now, what were you saying before?" Yvonne asked weakly.
"I said you went into a coma, Miss." Naomi answered.
"Coma?!" Yvonne breathed out in disbelief. "Wasn't I just sleeping?"
"You weren't just sleeping, Miss." Naomi replied. "You went into coma for two weeks. Two weeks, Miss."
Yvonne eyes widened.
Two weeks!!!
Naomi lowered her head. "Miss...if your brother hadn't used his Healing Ember..."
"You...might never have woken up."
"Brother?" Yvonne frowned.
"Lord Raphael," Naomi said softly. "He healed you with his Ember."
Oh.
Before Yvonne could ask more, Naomi bolted to the door and shouted, "MISS ALESSANDRA IS AWAKE!"
Footsteps thundered down the corridor.
The door burst open.
Faces flooded in—Gabriella, Amanda, Trancy, Samantha, Troy, Priscilla, Priscika, Lucen, Kael, Bianca, Lilith, Cassandra, Eric, and some other students then Miss Olivia, Miss Nancy, Miss Elizabeth, Mr Collins even Lord Thomas.
Then, questions rained down on her.
"Are you okay?"
"Does anything hurt?"
"Can you move?"
"Does your head hurt?"
"Do you remember us?"
Then—
"Enough."
The room fell silent.
A man stepped forward.
Black raven hair. Eyes the color of the deep sea. Sharp, elegant features that seemed almost unreal.
So… Breathtaking. Yvonne thought dreamily.
The man sat beside her, gaze steady, voice smooth as calm waters. "Alessandra. Are you alright?"
Yvonne blinked up at him.
"Well," She said slowly, offering her sweetest smile while tucking her hair behind her ear, "Hello, gorgeous."
The room froze.
So did he.
"…What?"