In the stillness of the hospital ward, a strange, unsettling presence brushed against the edge of Maerwyn's senses. The pale moonlight filtered through the thin blinds, casting fractured patterns across the stark white walls. Beside her, her father slept soundly in the visitor's chair, his face slack with exhaustion. Yet, Maerwyn's instincts flared—something was wrong.
Lying motionless in the bed, her pulse quickened. The room was silent, but the air felt heavier, thick with a faint, metallic scent that lingered—familiar and unsettling. It chilled her to the core, sharpening her focus.
Someone was in here.
She didn't move, her eyes darting across the room, scanning every corner. Shadows stretched and shifted with the dim light from the hallway. Then, she saw it—an outline against the curtain. The faintest movement, the sound of footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. Whoever it was moved with purpose, each step deliberate, each one sending a surge of adrenaline through her veins.
Maybe they think Kaelyn's situation now was vulnerable, she thought, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Even though I'm no longer in my old body, my sharp senses are still here.
The shadow lingered just beyond the curtain, its presence thick in the air. Maerwyn's breath caught, her body tensing beneath the blanket. Every nerve screamed a warning. Then, with a faint rustle, the curtain shifted. Light spilled into the room, casting an eerie glow over the intruder.
Before Maerwyn could react, the flash of a blade cut through the darkness, hurtling toward her chest. Instinct took over. Her hands shot up, catching the blade inches from her heart. Pain exploded as the sharp edge sliced into her palms, warm blood dripping down her wrists. The weight of the attacker bore down, the knife inching closer with each second.
She gritted her teeth, muscles straining as she held the blade at bay. Her eyes darted to the attacker a woman, face obscured by a mask, her hands trembling. The woman's grip was firm, her knuckles white, but her movements betrayed her slight hesitation, the lack of precision in her strike.
An amateur. Desperate.
Maerwyn's mind raced. This wasn't a trained killer-it was someone scared, someone with no other choice. But the blade didn't care about skill or fear. It would kill her all the same if she faltered.
In a swift motion, Maerwyn twisted the blade with all her strength, driving it sideways into the mattress. The attacker flinched, momentarily stunned by the sudden move. Maerwyn seized the moment, her elbow shooting upward in a brutal, precise strike that cracked against the woman's jaw. The sharp impact sent the attacker reeling, her body colliding with the nearby tray of medical supplies. Metal instruments clattered to the floor, their chaotic ringing cutting through the suffocating silence.
The noise had roused Maerwyn's father, who was now stirring awake. "What's going on?" His groggy voice cut through the tension.
But the woman didn't back down. She recovered faster than Maerwyn expected, her hand gripping the knife with desperate resolve. She lunged again, the blade flashing in the dim light.
Maerwyn rolled off the bed, her body slamming onto the cold, unforgiving tiles. The impact knocked the air from her lungs, a sharp pain radiating through her ribs. She gasped but refused to stay down, scrambling back on trembling limbs, just out of the knife's deadly reach.
The blade came down hard, stabbing deep into the mattress where Maerwyn had been just seconds before. The attacker cursed under her breath, frustration boiling over as she wrenched the knife free with a vicious tug. Her movements were erratic now, the edge of panic seeping into her motions.
"Who are you?" Kaelyn's father's terrified voice echoed in the room. "Somebody help us!" he shouted.
The woman cursed under her breath and rushed toward the door. Maerwyn, still catching her breath, watched as the shadowy figure disappeared into the hallway, her rapid footsteps fading into the distance.
The fluorescent lights flickered on, flooding the room with harsh brightness. Her father's horrified gaze fell on her crumpled form on the floor, the blood on her hands, and the knife still embedded in the mattress.
"Maerwyn!" His worried voice rushed as he knelt beside her. His hands trembled as he gently tried to help her get up. "Are you hurt? What happened?"
She didn't answer immediately, her chest heaving as she stared at the bed. The blade gleamed under the sterile light, a chilling reminder of how close she'd come to death.
Her father followed her gaze, his eyes widening with fear as his breath caught in his throat. He froze, the color draining from his face. "Who... Who did this?" His voice trembled, barely a whisper, as terror gripped him.
Maerwyn clenched her fists, ignoring the sting of her wounds. She didn't need to say it aloud. Her thoughts were a storm of questions and half-formed answers.
She knew it was an ordinary person who had tried to kill her—or rather, to kill Kaelyn. She knew this because she was an assassin, trained to take lives at the command of others. Yet, in less than a day since waking up in this body, someone was already trying to end Kaelyn's life again. Were they so desperate to get rid of her? Did they feel so threatened by her existence?
Her thoughts grew heavy and dark as the memories clawed their way back. She had been robbed of the chance to live a life of meaning, forced to exist in silence. She never fought back, never questioned, always obeyed—trapped in chains she couldn't see but felt with every breath. Her life had been a hollow shell, a prisoner within a system designed to crush her. And when her demise came, it was as cruel and unjust as the life she had endured. She had been disposable, her existence erased as if it had never mattered at all.
Once again, she recalled the pain and fury from the betrayal against her. Like a wound that refused to heal, the anguish returned, an overwhelming rage burning within her like a fire eager to consume her. The memories of treachery were like shadows enveloping her, relentlessly haunting her mind, and reminding her of the shattering of the trust she once gave wholeheartedly.
But perhaps this second chance wasn't just a twist of fate—it was a purpose. Maybe she had been placed in this body to correct the wrongs, to help Kaelyn achieve the justice she deserved. To prove that Kaelyn was worthy of living this life fully.
The thought stirred something within her—an unfamiliar resolve, sharp and unyielding. If she had to fight to protect this life and give it meaning, then so be it. For Kaelyn. For herself. To avenge the injustice they both suffered.
A peaceful life? Such a notion was nothing but a fleeting illusion. Danger pursued her relentlessly, no matter where she turned. But she couldn't rest, not yet. She had a debt to settle—a life was stolen wrong and unavenged. Kaelyn, the rightful owner of this existence, deserved justice, and until that justice was served, peace would remain beyond her reach. She would claim vengeance, not just for Kaelyn but to finally earn the right to call this life her own.
***
Sergeant Luna Vergara arrived at the hospital minutes after hearing about the attempted murder of Kaelyn. Her presence was like a cold wave, her expression stern as she entered the room. She had just spoken with Kaelyn's father, who had left on some errand, leaving her to handle the investigation alone. Luna's sharp eyes scanned the surroundings—the bed with the indentation from the knife, Maerwyn's injured hands—and each detail seemed to weigh heavily in her assessment. Slowly, she asked, her voice low but commanding.
"What did the attacker look like?"
Maerwyn hesitated. She knew the attack wasn't meant for her but for Kaelyn. Yet, as the one inhabiting Kaelyn's body, she felt it her duty to relay everything she knew. Taking a deep breath, she began.
"She was a woman," Maerwyn carefully began, struggling to describe the strange appearance of her attacker. "Her clothing… it was unlike anything I've ever seen. It was a blue-green set, matching top and bottom, made of smooth fabric. Over it, she wore a long, light garment—it looked like a cloak but thinner, white, or gray. Her feet were covered with clean shoes that seemed to be made of some unusual material—not leather or wood."
She paused, replaying the scene in her mind. "She had her face covered... white, like cloth, but fitted tightly over her nose and mouth. The only thing visible were her eyes... Around her neck, something was hanging—like an ornament, but not decorative. It seemed to have writing or an image on it, enclosed in a thin case and attached to a cord."
To Maerwyn, everything she had seen was unfamiliar—not just the attacker's appearance but also her intent—a modern figure in the eyes of those who knew, yet a complete mystery to her.
Luna was puzzled by the way Kaelyn explained things. As she listened, she noticed that every word Kaelyn uttered seemed filled with awe and wonder, as if the woman she described was something out of the ordinary.
"It's like you've never seen that kind of clothing before," Luna remarked, trying to make sense of Kaelyn's tone. "It feels like you're from another world based on how you're describing her."
Kaelyn stiffened and looked at Luna silently, not answering right away. The serious expression on her face seemed to betray hesitation, as though she was hiding something.
"Did I sound strange to her?" Maerwyn thought. She swallowed hard but hid any signs of unease.
Maerwyn and Luna locked eyes, the air thick with unspoken tension, a storm brewing between them that neither could escape.