The darkness was not empty.
It was filled with whispers, fragments of images, and memories that didn't belong to her. Astrid drifted through it, weightless, as if she were caught in a tide pulling her deeper into an ocean she didn't recognize.
Scenes flickered around her like pieces of a shattered mirror, jagged and incomplete. A smiling girl surrounded by books and laughter—that was her, wasn't it? But then the scene shifted, replaced by something darker. A cold, gleaming ballroom, with guests who wore masks of indifference and malice. A woman in the center of it all, draped in black silk, her lips curved into a cruel smile.
Astrid flinched as pain pierced her skull. The memories were sharp, stabbing through her mind with merciless precision.
She saw herself—or rather, the woman whose body she now inhabited—on a throne of velvet and gold. She was radiant but cold, her storm-gray eyes devoid of warmth. Servants bowed before her, their faces pale with fear. Noblemen and women fawned over her, their praises laced with caution. Astrid could feel the power this woman held, the way she commanded the room with a single glance.
But then the memories turned. The same woman was standing before a council, her voice raised in anger as accusations were hurled at her. "Traitor," they called her. "Usurper."
Her own voice—so familiar yet alien—spat back venomous retorts. She schemed, manipulated, and threatened, but the tide of power was shifting. Betrayals were whispered in dark corners. Former allies became enemies.
Astrid gasped in the void, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. The woman she had become was not just hated; she had earned that hatred.
Then came the softer memories, ones that weren't filled with scheming or cold ambition. A childhood spent in the shadows of towering stone walls. A stern father, his gaze always critical. A mother, beautiful and fragile, who held her close and whispered, "You must be strong, my darling. This world is not kind to girls like us."
Astrid's chest tightened. These memories felt raw, real, and far too personal. The line between herself and this body blurred. The former Astrid Valehart had not always been a villain. She had been a child once, filled with dreams of love and freedom. But the world had twisted her, and she had become the monster they wanted her to be.
The memories shifted again, and now it was her life—the other Astrid's life. She saw herself in a modern apartment, sitting at a desk cluttered with coffee mugs and notebooks. She was writing—stories filled with magic, romance, and worlds far grander than her own. She saw the joy on her face as she scribbled down ideas, the way her heart raced when she created a new character or plot twist.
But that life had ended abruptly. She remembered the sound of screeching tires, the blinding headlights, and then nothing.
I died, she thought, her voice trembling in the void.
And now, somehow, she was here.
Astrid's eyes flew open, her chest heaving as if she had just surfaced from underwater. She sat up too quickly, her head spinning, and clutched at her temples. The room spun around her—gray stone walls, a flickering candle, and a faint draft that carried the scent of damp earth.
Her body felt foreign, heavy with the weight of someone else's memories. She rubbed her hands together, staring at the delicate fingers adorned with rings that felt like shackles.
"Lady Astrid Valehart," she whispered bitterly. "What a mess you've left me with."
The faint sound of footsteps outside her door broke her thoughts. Astrid stiffened, her heart pounding. The events of the previous day came rushing back—the trial, the execution block, and Prince Lucien's icy declaration.
Your life now belongs to me.
The iron door creaked open, and a young maid stepped inside. She was thin and pale, with auburn hair pulled into a tight braid. Her expression was carefully neutral, but her eyes flickered with fear as she curtsied.
"My Lady," she said softly. "The Prince has summoned you."
Astrid's pulse quickened, but she forced herself to remain calm. "I need a moment," she said, her voice steadier than she expected.
The maid hesitated, glancing at the door. "He will not wait long."
Astrid nodded, waving her off. As the door closed behind the maid, she let out a shaky breath. Her mind raced. She couldn't afford to appear weak, not when she was surrounded by enemies. The former Astrid may have been a villain, but she had survived in this brutal world—and Astrid intended to do the same.
She straightened her dress as best as she could, smoothing the tattered fabric with trembling hands. Her reflection in the cracked mirror was as striking as ever, but her storm-gray eyes now carried a spark of determination.
"I may not be the real Astrid Valehart," she whispered to herself, "but I'll be damned if I let anyone decide my fate again."
The guards escorted her through a series of winding corridors, their footsteps echoing ominously. Astrid kept her head high, refusing to let her fear show. When they reached a grand set of double doors, the guards pushed them open to reveal an opulent study.
Prince Lucien stood by the window, his back to her. The room was bathed in golden light from the morning sun, which cast long shadows across the dark wood furniture. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes that spoke of a well-educated mind.
"Your Highness," Astrid said, keeping her voice steady.
Lucien turned slowly, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. His sharp blue eyes scanned her from head to toe, lingering on the iron cuffs around her wrists.
"Remove them," he ordered the guards without looking away from her.
The guards hesitated but obeyed, the chains falling away with a clatter. Astrid resisted the urge to rub her wrists. She wouldn't show weakness, not in front of him.
"Do you know why I spared your life?" Lucien asked, his voice calm but cutting.
Astrid met his gaze, refusing to flinch. "Because you need me for something," she said, her tone laced with defiance.
A flicker of amusement crossed his face, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "Clever," he said. "But don't mistake my actions for kindness. You are a means to an end, nothing more."
"And what is this 'end' you seek?" she asked, tilting her head.
Lucien stepped closer, his presence imposing. "The curse that plagues this kingdom," he said. "You played a part in its creation, whether you remember it or not. And now, you will help undo it."
Astrid's breath hitched. The curse. The memories of the former Astrid flashed through her mind—whispers of forbidden magic, deals made in desperation, and consequences that rippled across the kingdom.
"I didn't—" She stopped herself, realizing the futility of denying it. To him, she was Astrid Valehart, the villainess who had doomed them all.
Lucien's gaze hardened. "You don't have a choice. If you refuse, I will not hesitate to finish what the executioner started."
Astrid swallowed hard, her mind racing. She needed time to think, to plan. "Fine," she said, lifting her chin. "But if you expect me to help, I'll need to know everything about this curse."
Lucien studied her for a moment before nodding. "You'll get your answers in due time. For now, consider this your second chance. Don't waste it."
---
Lucien Drakemont stood at the window of his study, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out over the sprawling gardens of the royal palace. The morning sun cast long shadows across the hedgerows and statues, but the beauty of the scene offered him no solace. His thoughts were consumed by the woman they called Astrid Valehart.
The Duchess of Blackmere. The traitor. The villainess.
And now, a complication he hadn't foreseen.
When he'd stopped the execution the day before, he had seen the surprise in her eyes, the raw confusion that had made her look more like a frightened girl than the ruthless schemer he'd known. It was a look that unsettled him—because it didn't belong to her.
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus. Whether her behavior was genuine or another layer to her manipulative games, he couldn't afford to be careless.
The door creaked open behind him, and the soft sound of footsteps announced the arrival of the woman herself.
"Your Highness." Her voice was steady, though he detected a faint tremor beneath it.
Lucien turned, his sharp blue eyes locking onto hers. She stood in the doorway, her hands loosely folded in front of her, the iron cuffs around her wrists a stark reminder of her position. The light streaming into the room caught the strands of her dark hair, making her look almost ethereal.
No, he reminded himself harshly. This is Astrid Valehart. Don't let her appearance deceive you.
He motioned to the guards. "Remove her restraints."
The guards hesitated, glancing at him as if unsure they had heard correctly. His jaw tightened. "Now."
The chains clattered to the floor, and she barely flinched. She didn't rub her wrists or show any sign of discomfort. Instead, she met his gaze with an almost defiant tilt of her chin.
"Do you know why I spared your life?" he asked, keeping his tone measured.
She didn't waver. "Because you need me for something."
Her answer caught him off guard, though he didn't let it show. This version of Astrid was... unexpected. Where was the venom? The arrogance? Her sharp tongue had been her weapon in court, cutting through even the most seasoned nobles with ease. But this woman—this stranger wearing Astrid's face—seemed different.
He stepped closer, studying her carefully. "Clever," he said, allowing a hint of approval to creep into his voice. "But don't mistake my actions for kindness. You are a means to an end, nothing more."
"And what is this 'end' you seek?" she asked, tilting her head.
The question annoyed him, though he couldn't entirely say why. She had the audacity to challenge him, even now, but there was no malice in her voice—only curiosity.
Lucien leaned closer, his tone dropping into something colder. "The curse that plagues this kingdom," he said. "You played a part in its creation, whether you remember it or not. And now, you will help undo it."
For a moment, her expression faltered. He caught it—the flicker of something raw, something close to fear.
"I didn't—" she began, then stopped herself. Her voice changed, steadied. "Fine. But if you expect me to help, I'll need to know everything about this curse."
The sheer gall of her demand almost made him smile. Almost. "You'll get your answers in due time," he said, his tone clipped. "For now, consider this your second chance. Don't waste it."
When she had left, escorted by the guards, Lucien turned back to the window, his thoughts darker than before.
He had watched Astrid Valehart for years, studied her movements, her alliances, and her betrayals. She had always been one step ahead, a dangerous player in the court's endless game of power. He had hated her, not only for the destruction she caused but for the way she thrived in chaos.
But the woman he had spoken to today wasn't her.
Lucien frowned, resting a hand on the windowsill. Could it be an act? A strategy to throw him off balance? It was possible, but something about her—her body language, her expressions—seemed... fractured.
Whatever had happened to her, it didn't matter. She was a piece on the board, one he could use to end the curse that threatened the kingdom. His hatred for her past deeds was irrelevant. If she could be the key to solving this, he would tolerate her presence.
But he wouldn't trust her. Not yet.
Later that night, as the palace quieted, Lucien sat at his desk, poring over an ancient text. The curse had spread further than they had anticipated, its tendrils reaching beyond the capital and into the villages. Crops were failing, rivers were drying, and strange creatures had been spotted in the forests.
And at the center of it all was Astrid Valehart.
His grip tightened on the edge of the book. Whatever role she had played in its creation, she was the only one who could help unravel it.
The memory of her voice lingered in his mind: steady, sharp, and utterly unrecognizable.
Lucien leaned back in his chair, staring at the flickering flame of the lantern on his desk. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.
Astrid Valehart had always been a mystery. And now, she was an enigma he couldn't afford to ignore.