Catherine stood still, her gaze fixed on the castle before her.
Every detail felt… familiar.
The fountain at the front, now edged with frost. The layout of the garden, even beneath the snow, still visible in its careful symmetry. The flowerpots lined along the windowsills—she didn't need to see them clearly to know what they held. Lilies. It had always been lilies, because that was her favorite flower.
The trees stood in quiet rows along the sides, their branches dusted white. Snow clung to the sloped roof, softening the harshness of stone, while creeping vines curled along the walls, giving the entire place an almost dreamlike quality.
It wasn't just a resemblance. It was recognition. She had seen this place before, not in this life, but in a painting.
And then… The memory shifted.
Her throat tightened, words catching before they could form.
"This…"
She couldn't finish.
