The ravenous flame consumed her flesh, melting her skin and torching her bones.
Xuma had never felt such excruciating agony before. The pain went so deep, she was certain she was burning in the inferno of hell.
She must've been screaming, or wailing, like a banshee. But if so, her eardrums must've blasted from the sound. Because she couldn't hear herself.
She couldn't feel her limbs.
It was as if her sense of touch and hearing were stripped to magnify the pain. And the effect drove her mind to the brink of collapse.
Just as she was wavering between lucidity and delirium, her mind jolted, her body tumbled, and the soul-rending pain abruptly disappeared as if retracted by a force.
"Press the iron on the back of the hand. They should see the slave brand every time they wash, eat, and sleep."
A force fell on the back of her head and pressed her face into the ground. Disoriented and still in a state of confusion, Xuma barely perceived her wrist being grasped, before a slight sting, that was akin to the sting of a bee in comparison to the terror she had just experienced, throbbed from the back of her hand.
"From this moment on, you have no name, no family, no home. Being a slave of the Frost-Flame Empire is your only identity."
"Alright, next!"
The force on the back of her head disappeared. Before she could lift her head and regain her footing, a violent push had her lurch to the side, bumping into something hard that shoved her to the ground.
"You pig, are you blind?"
It wasn't until the sharp voice of an unkind girl entered her ears that she felt something off. Xuma raised her head and froze.
"Naila?"
The slave girl who entered the Stone Palace with her. Why was she here? Or did she…
Thinking she had finally entered the world of the dead, Xuma scrambled to her feet and looked around her. "Naila, is this heaven? Or he…"
Her voice cut short. She furiously rubbed her eyes, wondering if the years of floating above Frost-Flame City had messed with her mental stability.
That had to be the case. Otherwise, why would she be at the gate of the Stone Palace? In a bustling and prosperous Frost-Flame City, no less?
"You…how do you know my name?"
Her throat clenched.
'I must be dreaming. Yes, dreaming.' The years of slow torture combined with the feeling of burning in a sea of flame must've knocked her unconscious. Though she wasn't sure if ghosts could dream, it was the only acceptable explanation for this situation.
Her hands that had grown rough with calluses from years of archery, were now as soft and smooth as the time she lived in Blossom Valley. The time before she entered the Stone Palace with the identity of a slave.
And the girl before her…she hadn't noticed it before. But now that she looked closer, she found her features were softer with an air of immaturity. A stark contrast to the voluptuous Concubine Naila of her past life.
Xuma heaved with rising panic.
'Dream…it has to be a dream…'
She vehemently stressed, too overwhelmed to make sense of anything. There was magic in this world. She had seen with her own eyes every time the fields of her kingdom bloomed with vegetation. She had seen it in the flame daggers, frost armors, and ice shields the empire's warriors used.
She had seen it when she had died, but still remained in this world in the form of a ghost.
If there were no extraordinary things in the world around them, the Stone Empire wouldn't have survived centuries of winter storms and summer blazes on a land without spring.
It was because there was magic that even the most impossible of feats became possible in dire situations. However, that kind of magic had a source. Its appearance had a purpose.
Its wonder made sense.
She couldn't make sense of a magic that could send her back in time. A magic that could return her to her youth. A magic so mystical it could reverse the wheel of time, but brought her of all people to the past before the nightmare.
Why?
Naila gripped her arm and shook her vigorously. "Hey, you! I'm talking to you! How do you know my name?" She hissed, suspicion and doubt swirling in her eyes.
Before Xuma could reply, a whistle sliced through the air, as a whip ruthlessly lashed the girl's back. Naila hissed in pain and glowered at Xuma, blaming her for her unfortunate luck.
"You lowly slaves! Stand properly in line and keep your mouths shut! The gate's going to open soon!" The Slave Trainer barked with a cold expression, slashing and waving his whip in an aggressive manner. The ferocious look in his eyes frightened the young girls lined before the palace gate into silent submission.
With a sudden groan, the white stone gate shook, then slowly opened its gate to welcome the new batch of slaves into its cage.
Witnessing this scene a second time, Xuma's mind went blank.
A new year. A new conquest.
Only this time, she had no goal, no purpose to strive for. Instead of hatred, confusion brewed in her heart.
What was the purpose of her rebirth?