Iceland —
Date 18-10- 2022
Day -2
In a dark, confined pit-like space, camouflaged by dry leaves and branches, lay a hidden entrance seemingly leading nowhere. Just beyond the entrance, a wall loomed, suggesting a passage long forgotten. This desolate hideout was a sanctuary crafted by the ancient Nordics to shield their families in times of dire need.
In the insulated, damp chamber, a fragile figure lay motionless on the cold, unforgiving floor. It was a young girl, her eyes closed in an eerie semblance of a deep, eternal sleep. Her face, a mask of exhaustion, bore the telltale streaks of dried tears. Anyone stumbling upon her might believe she was dead, yet the faint rhythm of her breath betrayed a life hanging by a thread. Her condition was precarious—any moment could be her last.
This was no ordinary girl; she was Margret Gunnarsdotter, daughter of Gunnar and sister of Jonathan Gunnarson, or the lost daughter of the Vijayputri family. Margret bore an uncanny resemblance to Ammala, sharing the same eyes, face, and body structure. Yet, there was a profound difference—Margret's eyes were as black as the night, concealing endless depths. One glance and hearts would unknowingly surrender, but her mesmerizing eyes were not meant to enchant; they were the fierce beauty of a tiger's gaze, sharp and dangerous, more cutting than any blade.
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Margret Gunnarsdotter is the epitome of striking beauty and unyielding bravery. She carries the legacy of her lineage with grace and strength, making her a beacon of hope in the most harrowing times.
Physically, Margret is a vision. Her features are delicately sculpted, exuding a natural elegance. Her hair, dark as a moonless night, cascades down in gentle waves, framing a face marked by high cheekbones and a perfectly chiseled jawline. Her skin, pale yet radiant, contrasts beautifully with her piercing black eyes—eyes that seem to hold the mysteries of the universe within their depths. They are not just eyes that captivate; they command attention and respect, reflecting a spirit that's as fierce as it is compassionate.
Margret's beauty, however, is not her most defining trait. It is her bravery that truly sets her apart. Despite her young age, she possesses a courage that belies her years. Raised in the shadow of ancient Nordic traditions, she has learned the art of resilience and strength. Margret has faced countless adversities, yet each challenge has only served to fortify her resolve.
Her bravery manifests in her actions and decisions. When her family was under threat, she didn't cower in fear; instead, she chose to hide in the ancient sanctuary, a place designed to protect in times of dire need. She did so not out of self-preservation, but to ensure her family's safety, hoping against hope that her father and brother would find refuge as well.
Even in her current dire state, with her powers mysteriously failing and her body weakened, Margret's spirit remains unbroken. Her determination to survive, to hold onto the fragile thread of life, is a testament to her indomitable will. She is a warrior at heart, fighting not just for herself but for the memory of her loved ones and the hope of a future reunification.
Margret's story is one of unparalleled beauty intertwined with unwavering bravery. She is a symbol of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest times, the human spirit can shine with a light that no shadow can extinguish.
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In her current state, however, beauty was far from her reality. Her once elegant black dress was now tattered and stained, marred with cuts and bruises. Her pale skin bore the scars of her ordeal.
"How many days have passed out there?" she whispered, her voice a fragile tremor, barely audible in the oppressive silence. "Father and brother, where are you?"
"It's been seven days since I hid here," she continued, her voice cracking with despair. "I haven't eaten for days; my hands and legs have lost all strength."
"Father said Jonathan would be safe in another hideout," she murmured, tears welling up in her eyes. Guilt and sorrow crushed her heart, knowing deep inside that something terrible had befallen her father and brother. Surely, they would have come for her if they could.
She sensed the malevolent presence of those who had attacked her home; they lingered nearby, watching, waiting. Yet, for reasons unknown, her chakra powers had failed her. Despite having activated first chakra and balanced first level, her abilities lay dormant, only her heightened senses remaining, alert to the faintest disturbances within a fifty-mile radius.
"I guess this is the end, huh?" she sighed, the weight of resignation in her voice. "I hope we meet in the next life because that's not possible in this one anymore."
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As the light in her eyes began to fade, she heard a voice calling her name. But to her surprise, it wasn't calling the name she used in this world. Instead, it was the name from her previous life, a name she hadn't heard a single time in this life, until now.
"Alyosha, Alyosha, are you there? Answer me, say something if you can hear me!"
Margret, who was hiding in a secret chamber within a well, heard the voice. At first, she thought it was a hallucination brought on by the final moments of her life.
But the voice didn't stop.
"Alyosha, say something!"
Realizing it wasn't an illusion, Margret tried to call for help. However, her body was drained of strength, having pushed her heightened senses to their limits over the past days. She couldn't even speak, let alone shout. Just then, the voice spoke again, addressing someone else.
"You, wait here. I'm going down into the well."
"Young lady, it's too dangerous. Let me go instead."
"No need, I can handle this myself."
Without waiting for a response, the girl jumped into the well. In any normal case, the fall would've shattered her legs, but she skillfully stepped on the stones of the well's walls to slow her descent.
"Anya, throw down the rope!" she called out.
A rope soon descended into the well. The girl began searching, and after a few moments, she pressed a stone on the wall. Immediately, a hidden door appeared, concealed beneath layers of branches and leaves.
She hurried through the opening.
The girl was none other than Ammala.
Entering the small chamber, Ammala's eyes fell upon a young girl lying on the ground, gravely injured. Her body was covered in minor wounds, her clothes torn and stained with blood. The floor was marked with crimson, and the girl looked as though she could die at any moment from blood loss and exhaustion.
Ammala ran to her side and shouted desperately, "Wake up! Wake up, Alyosha, I'm here! Open your eyes! Alyosha, look at me, I'm right here!" Her voice trembled with sorrow and worry as she cradled the girl in her lap.
"Anya, come quickly!"
Within seconds, a figure appeared—Anya, a strikingly beautiful woman with a calm and composed expression. Yet beneath her calm exterior, there was an undeniable air of concern.
"Yes, young lady," she replied in her usual collected tone.
Suddenly, the girl in Ammala's arms began to stir. Slowly, she opened her eyes, her hand reaching out to gently touch Ammala's face. In a weak but content voice, she whispered, "Sister, you really came for me in the end…"
A bright smile graced her face before she lost consciousness once more, drifting into a deep slumber. The long days of staying vigilant against her enemies, never allowing herself to sleep, had finally caught up with her. Now that she had seen the one she had longed to see, all her worries faded, and her mind and body, at last, allowed themselves to rest.
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Inside a well furnished and luxury room we can see a girl lying on the bed. She have a beautiful face and skin as pal as the show shinning in the mid day yellow sunlight.
She is sleeping on the bed quietly. She have calm experience on her face. And the beauty she is emanats is otherworldly. She looks like the a beauty in sleep, who is waiting for her prince to came and wake her up from her slumber.
Then after a minute or two her eyelids started to twitch slowly. And by rubbing her eyes she started to open her eyes.
She opened her , her eyes are black as the sea of endless night. Made anyone drown in them. Just a look and you don't know when you went missing from this world and entered a world where is no return. A perfect beauty.
When she opened her eyes the first thing she saw was a girl sitting on chair beside her bed was sleeping quietly and peacefully. She have the same features as her. They both are none other then Ammala and Margret.
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After bringing Margret with her in the mansion Ammala is living. She called out the best doctors there are, but to her and everyone's suprise Margret was fine and healthy there is no sign of injures and weakness she saw preciously.
Doctor said that she is just tired and after some some rest she is alright as new. Ammala knows the reason for her sudden healing. But to others this is just a miracle, not for all because some of them knows the truth behind her sudden recovery.
After coming home Ammala and Anya went through a long hour of lecture, and got scold due to there reckless decision.
Ram who came back from his investigation was thoroughly suprised by this. But after that he became enraged and was about to punish the servents and Anya for lack of duty and disobeying his order . But Ramya and Ammala came forward and explained how they tricked Anya while saying going on a little tour in the city.
After a sometime of explanation from Ramya and Ammala. Ram explained what information he found in investigation. after his explanation of the events that had past on Gunnar and his family. A furious look came on the faces of the sisters present there.
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Present
When Margret looked at Ammala very complex emotions of joy, happiness, sadness and sorrow wrapped her heart.
" sister it's... Really you ( sobbing) I can"
"Shuuu... Be quite you need to rest "will putting a finger on her face.
"Hmmm." nodded while sobbing.
" we can..., talk later, the first priority we have to be in our best condition " in a determination look in her eyes.
"hmmm..(nodded) after a brief Break ," so ,where is brother and father?, they are with as right? " She said with a concern and anxious tone.
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