The night was quiet, the world outside the mansion blanketed in a soft darkness. The moon cast pale light across the room, illuminating the elegant furnishings and casting long shadows on the walls. Anna had fallen into a deep sleep, her body heavy with the weight of the day's revelations. She had spent the entire day trying to wrap her mind around the impossible reality she was now living in, and her exhaustion had finally caught up to her.
But then, something changed.
The clock in the hallway struck midnight, the twelve chimes ringing eerily through the silence of the mansion. Anna's eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded in her chest, but something was wrong. Her limbs felt heavy, unresponsive, as if they no longer belonged to her. Panic surged through her as she tried to move, but her body wouldn't obey.
Without warning, her body began to move on its own.
Anna was wide awake, but it was as if she was trapped in her own skin. She felt her legs swing over the edge of the bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor. Her hands rested on her knees for a moment, and then, slowly, she stood up. Anna's mind was racing, but her body acted as though it had a will of its own.
What's happening? she thought, her inner voice trembling with fear. Why can't I move?
She tried again to take control, but it was no use. It wasn't her controlling her body—it was Helena. The real Helena, the villainess whose body she now inhabited, was awake. And she was in control.
Helena, what are you doing? Anna's mind screamed, trying to communicate with whatever presence was now controlling her body. Stop! Please stop!
But there was no response.
Anna could only watch as her feet moved silently across the room, her hand reaching out to turn the doorknob. The door creaked open, and she slipped into the dark hallway. Her movements were deliberate, eerily quiet, as if she was sneaking through the mansion like a shadow. Her feet made no sound on the cold marble floors as she made her way down the hall, every step filled with a dark purpose.
She didn't know where she was going at first, but the moment her feet turned toward the kitchen, her heart sank. Helena—her body—moved with calm precision, her hand gliding across the counter until she found what she was looking for: a knife. The gleam of its sharp edge caught the faint light from the moon outside, sending a chill through Anna's mind.
Helena, no! Anna's thoughts screamed in desperation. What are you doing?
Still, no answer came. Helena's mind was completely closed off to her. It was like she was a prisoner in her own body, helpless to stop what was happening. The cold steel of the knife felt heavy in her hand as Helena gripped it tightly, her feet moving once again with a sinister determination.
No, no, no, no... Anna's thoughts were a whirlwind of panic as she realized where Helena was leading them. Toward Noah's room.
The door to Noah's room was cracked open slightly, just enough for her body to slip through without making a sound. The room was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. Noah lay in his bed, peaceful and unaware of the danger standing mere feet away.
Helena's eyes, which Anna could still see through, gazed down at Noah's sleeping form. He looked so vulnerable, his red eyes closed, his silver hair spread out across the pillow like a shimmering veil. His breathing was slow and steady, completely unaware of the nightmare that stood beside him.
Please, Helena, stop! Don't hurt him! Anna's voice was desperate, pleading, but still Helena did not respond.
Helena's hand tightened around the handle of the knife as she took another step closer to Noah's bed. The blade glinted ominously in the faint light, its sharp edge poised for something terrible. Anna could feel the weight of it, the dark intent behind Helena's every move.
She was so close now, the knife hovering just above Noah's chest, inches from his heart. Anna's mind screamed in horror, but she was powerless. She could only watch as Helena's hand hovered in the air, frozen for a moment as if deciding whether or not to plunge the knife downward.