The church walls seemed to close in around Verina as she stood motionless before the altar, the weight of the last few days pressing down on her. Her mind felt like it was slipping, the pieces of her life scattered like broken glass. The vision from the night before still clung to her, like a fog that would not lift. The silence in the church was heavy, suffocating. Every breath she took felt like it could be her last.
Why am I seeing these things? The question pulsed through her mind like a relentless drumbeat. Her fingers curled against the stone, gripping it as if it might anchor her to reality. But the images wouldn't fade. They felt foreign and alien—as if they belonged to someone else entirely. Are they even mine? Or am I... becoming someone else?
The sound of the door creaking open interrupted her thoughts. Verina didn't even look up. She was too exhausted, too fragile to deal with another intrusion into her already chaotic world. But the presence that followed was unmistakable.
Archduke Aleris. His footsteps echoed as he entered the church, each step like a hammer on the anvil of her nerves. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine. His aura was different today—he wasn't just a noble, but a force that she couldn't quite place, one that seemed to bleed into her every thought, infecting her mind with questions she didn't want to answer.
"Verina," Aleris's voice broke through her spiralling thoughts, smooth. "It's good to see you again."
She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to acknowledge his existence, yet she couldn't escape the pull of his words. Slowly, she raised her gaze, and their eyes locked. His smile was too perfect, too practiced, and it made her feel sick.
"You resemble her so much," Aleris continued, stepping closer, his tone like honey but laced with something darker. "Your mother, of course. But... you resemble me as well. How strange, isn't it?"
Verina's heart clenched painfully. The mention of her mother, the woman she'd lost so young and who'd worked herself to an early grave for her, blindsided Verina. How could he speak of her mother? He had never been there.
"No," Verina said sharply, her voice betraying more emotion than she had intended. "You're mistaken."
Aleris's smile faltered, but only for a moment. His eyes darkened with something she couldn't quite read. "She tried to protect you from me. But the truth is undeniable, Verina. You and I, we are bound by blood."
Verina's hands trembled at her sides. She wanted to scream, to demand that he leave her alone, but her voice failed her. His presence was suffocating, and the words he spoke felt like chains, wrapping tighter around her heart with every breath.
"I don't need you," she finally said, her voice cracking as she spoke. "I don't want to be a part of whatever game you're playing."
Aleris didn't flinch. He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. "You don't understand, do you? This isn't a game, Verina. This is your life. Your real life. The life I've been trying to give you."
Verina's pulse quickened, her thoughts growing more and more muddled. The walls of the church seemed to wrap around her, the stained glass windows distorting the sunlight. My life? She shook her head, trying to clear the confusion clouding her mind. What does he want from me?
"I am not a tool for you to use," she spat, her voice full of defiance. But even as she said it, her heart ached with uncertainty. What if he's right?
Aleris's eyes softened, almost too much. His smile returned, but now it held an air of something sinister. "I'm offering you everything, Verina. A place by my side. A legacy. You need not carry the burden of your mother's choices any longer. Let me take care of you."
What? Burden? The word echoed in her mind, and her stomach twisted. Her mother had died because she had never stopped trying to protect Verina. And now this man, this stranger who claimed to be her father, was trying to twist her into something she wasn't.
"You're just like everyone else," Verina said, her voice shaking. "You only care about yourself."
Aleris didn't seem to be offended. In fact, there was a faint flicker of amusement in his eyes, like he had expected this reaction. "Ah, you're just like your mother," he said, his voice soft but laced with something dangerous. "She resisted too until she saw the truth."
"What?" she said through gritted teeth. "She gave everything for me, and you were nowhere to be found."
Aleris took another step forward, his voice softer now, laced with manipulation. "And now, Verina, I'm here. For you. All those years apart—don't you think it's time we fixed that? Don't you think it's time you came back to the family you belong to?"
Verina couldn't breathe. Before she could respond, a figure appeared in the doorway. It was Sam. The moment he stepped into the church, a strange energy seemed to follow him, an unsettling aura that made the air crackle.
Aleris's gaze snapped to him immediately, his expression tightening. "Have we met before?" he asked, his voice calm but sharp."You seem… familiar."
Sam, to Verina's surprise, didn't flinch. He maintained his calm, his eyes not betraying a single emotion. "I don't believe so, my lord," he said with a respectful bow, his voice even, betraying nothing.
Aleris studied him for a long moment, a strange flicker of recognition flashing across his features before he dismissed it with a small shrug. "Then I must be mistaken," he murmured, but Verina could sense the undercurrent of something more in his words.
Aleris turned back to Verina, his smile once again spreading across his face. "Think about what I've said, Verina," he whispered. "You'll see, eventually. You and I— we're not so different."
Verina felt a cold shiver run through her as Aleris turned and left, the door closing behind him with a finality that left her breathless. Her chest tightened, and she staggered back against the altar, her mind spinning.
The church seemed too silent, too empty after Aleris's departure. The weight of his words pressed down on her like a heavy stone, and Verina felt her vision blur, her thoughts slipping further and further from her grasp. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe.