The darkness was quiet. No pain, no sound, no sense of time. Only an emptiness that wrapped around Eleanor's consciousness like an endless cold blanket.
But slowly, something began to shift. A faint pulse stirred within the dark like a heartbeat finding its rhythm again, slow at first, then growing steadier.
"What… is this…?" Eleanor whispered, her voice sounding strange even to her own ears.
Consciousness returned faster than she expected. And with it came the pain, sharp and piercing, right in her chest. She gasped, her hands instinctively flying to the spot where the sword had gone through her.
But when her fingers met fabric, she froze. No blood. No wound.
"No… this isn't possible…" she murmured.
Eleanor opened her eyes.
Soft light greeted her not the candlelight of the palace hall, but morning sunlight filtering through thin curtains. The air was warm, still, and full of life.
She was lying in a bed. A bed she knew intimately.
"My… room?" Her voice trembled.
The ceiling, the walls, even the faint scent of lavender drifting through the air, all of it was achingly familiar. This was her room in the Ainsworth estate, the place where she had grown up before everything changed.
Eleanor sat up immediately, her breath coming fast, her hands moving quickly over her body.
Her skin was unbroken. No wounds. No trace of blood.
"What happened to me…?" she whispered.
She stared at her hands for a long moment, smaller, smoother, without the faint scars that had always marked her fingers. And then something even more unsettling surfaced in her mind.
She threw herself out of bed, nearly tripping over the gown she was wearing. It wasn't a queen's gown. It was a simple dress in white and pale blue, a dress from her past.
"No… no… this can't be real…" she said, stepping back slowly.
The bedroom door swung open.
A servant entered with light, unhurried steps, carrying a tray of tea.
"Lady Eleanor, you're awake? You slept much longer than usual…"
The servant stopped, startled by the look on Eleanor's face.
"Lady Eleanor… are you alright?"
Eleanor stared at her. That face. She knew it. Mira.
Her personal maid. Who had long since "...died…" Eleanor breathed, barely audible.
Mira's brow furrowed. "Pardon? Did you say something, my Lady?"
Eleanor stepped back, her eyes wide. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her thoughts spinning with nowhere to land. None of this made sense, Mira was supposed to be gone, all of this was supposed to be over.
And yet here she was. Alive, breathing, standing right in front of her as though nothing had ever happened.
"What's today's date?" Eleanor asked suddenly.
Mira looked puzzled, but answered, "The third day of the Spring Month, my Lady. As always."
Eleanor went still. That date.
That date was "…five years before the wedding…" she whispered.
Her hands began to shake. She turned and crossed the room in quick strides toward the large mirror in the corner, her breath uneven as she looked at her own reflection.
The face looking back was younger. More open. Untouched by betrayal.
"This is… me…" she said softly.
Her eyes shifted slowly from confusion… to understanding.
And then, a flicker of fear. "No…" She shook her head faintly.
Everything that had happened, everything she had lived through the pain, the loss, the betrayal. It had been real. Every bit of it.
It wasn't a dream.
"This isn't a dream," she said, more firmly this time.
Mira stepped closer, careful and cautious. "Lady Eleanor, you're worrying me. Are you feeling unwell?"
Eleanor didn't answer. She simply stared deeper into her own reflection as the memories came flooding back one by one. That night. Reginald's smile. Her family's blood. And her vow. Her body went rigid. I was already dead… And yet here she was, standing in a room that shouldn't exist anymore, in a body that shouldn't be whole. Mira stood in the background, completely lost, while Eleanor slowly began to understand exactly where and when she was.
Eleanor drew a long, deliberate breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, everything had changed not the room, not the light, but the eyes looking back at her in the mirror. No confusion. No fear. Only something cold and razor-sharp, quietly settling into place.
"My Lady…?" Mira called softly.
Eleanor turned to look at her. A small smile touched her lips, but it was different from any smile she'd worn before.
"I'm fine," she said calmly. "I just remembered something very important."
Mira visibly relaxed. "Thank goodness. You gave me quite a fright."
Eleanor walked back to the bed and sat down with quiet grace. Her movements were steady, controlled, worlds away from the girl who had been panicking only moments before.
"Has Father returned from the military meeting yet?" she asked.
Mira shook her head. "Not yet, my Lady. Duke Marcus is still at the barracks. But he's expected back this evening."
Eleanor gave a slow nod.
There was still time. Still a chance.
"Good," she said quietly.
Mira smiled. "Would you like me to prepare anything for you?"
Eleanor looked out the window. The sky was clear. The world was still peaceful, no blood yet, no betrayal yet.
But she knew it was coming. All of it. And this time "I won't let it happen again," she thought.
Mira tilted her head slightly. "My Lady?"
Eleanor rose and walked to the window. The morning breeze touched her face, carrying the scent of a life she had once taken for granted.
Now, everything felt different. More precious. Full of possibility.
"Prepare the carriage," she said suddenly.
Mira blinked. "Right now, my Lady?"
Eleanor nodded, her eyes fixed on something far beyond the glass. "I need to see my father."
Mira hesitated. "Is something urgent?"
Eleanor smiled faintly.
But this time, the smile held something deeper. Something no one else could see.
"Yes," she said quietly.
"Very urgent."
She closed her hand slowly into a fist at her side.
Inside her, the vow was still alive. Stronger than ever.
"I've been given a second chance" she thought.
And this time I'm the one who's going to change how this story ends.
"Then there's no room for hesitation," she murmured.
Eleanor's voice was steadier than before. She turned from the window, her steps firm and purposeful as though every second now carried a weight it hadn't before. The softness that had once defined her face was still there, but beneath it sat an unfamiliar stillness. A stillness born from experiences she should never have had to live through.
Mira watched her, quietly confused, but too cautious to press further. The change was too sudden and yet too absolute to ignore.
"Lady Eleanor… would you like me to bring any guards?" Mira asked carefully.
Eleanor shook her head. She reached for a pair of gloves on the dressing table and slipped them on with neat, deliberate movements. Every gesture now felt like part of a plan she had been assembling for a long time.
"We don't need many people," she said evenly. "The fewer who know, the better."
Mira nodded, though uncertainty still lingered on her face. "Of course, my Lady. I'll have everything ready shortly."
Eleanor moved toward the door, but paused mid-step. Her mind was already running, tracing back through every detail she had once overlooked. Every conversation, every small decision that had quietly paved the road to ruin.
This time, she would not make the same mistakes.
"Mira," she said quietly.
The servant turned at once. "Yes, my Lady?"
Eleanor looked at her, really looked at her and behind her gaze was something that bordered on a warning.
"From today, don't trust anyone in the palace."
Mira went still, caught off guard by the words. "Not even… the royal family?"
Eleanor smiled thinly.
"Especially them."