Darkness enveloped Cayena like a shroud, heavy and suffocating, as if the world had folded in on itself. She felt weightless, untethered, drifting through an endless void. There was no pain, no anger—only a strange, aching numbness.
And then, the dream began.
She was walking through a field bathed in soft, golden light, the kind that made the world look as if it had been painted with love. Her feet moved forward, though she could not say where they carried her. Behind her lay shadows, deep and impenetrable, while ahead, there was an inviting brightness she couldn't resist.
But then, a voice stopped her.
"Cayena!"
It was her brother's voice—young, clear, and filled with the mischief she had loved so much. She froze, her breath catching in her chest. Slowly, she turned around.
There they were. Her family.
Her mother stood tall, elegant as always, with a warm smile that made Cayena's heart ache. Beside her was her father, his hand resting protectively on her little brother's shoulder. And her sister... Her sister's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, a silent plea in their depths.
"Where are you going?" her brother asked, his voice tinged with confusion and hurt.
Cayena's feet faltered, and suddenly, she was running—running toward them, her arms outstretched, her heart pounding with a desperate need to reach them.
When she reached them, she threw herself into their arms. They felt solid, warm, alive. She sobbed into her mother's shoulder, clinging to her father, ruffling her brother's hair as she used to. It was perfect. Too perfect.
Her mother's voice was gentle but firm. "You still have unfinished business, Cayena."
Cayena pulled back, blinking up at her. "But I—"
"Protect us this time," her sister whispered, her voice breaking.
Her father's eyes, steady and full of unspoken words, held hers. "It's not too late."
The golden light began to dim, replaced by a cold, blinding brightness. Cayena felt herself slipping away, her family fading like mist in the morning sun.
"No! Wait—!"
And then, she woke up.
The world returned abruptly, with sensations rushing back like a flood. Cayena's lungs expanded as she gasped, her body lurching upright. The softness of silk sheets registered first, followed by the scent of lavender and parchment. Her hands instinctively clutched the fabric, and her eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings.
A bedroom—familiar yet foreign. The ornate canopy bed, the heavy drapes embroidered with the Graymore family crest, the polished mahogany furniture. This was her room.
But it was impossible. This room had been destroyed years ago when her family fell.
"No..." she whispered, her voice trembling.
Her reflection in the mirror across the room caught her eye.
It stole her breath.
Her hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid silver, shimmering in the faint morning light. It gleamed with an ethereal quality, as if spun from moonlight itself. Her eyes, wide and searching, were a deep, vibrant purple, like amethyst gemstones catching the fire of the sun.
She wasn't a woman weighed down by grief and bloodshed anymore. She was a girl again. Fourteen, with wide, unlined eyes and a face untouched by pain.
Cayena whispered into the still air, her voice trembling, "I'm back."
A knock at the door startled her, and a voice she never thought she'd hear again called out. "Cayena? Are you awake? Breakfast is ready."
Her heart froze. "Ethel?"
The door creaked open, and there she was. Ethel stood in the doorway, alive and radiant, her face glowing with the innocence of youth. She tilted her head, a playful smile dancing on her lips.
"What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost," Ethel teased.
Cayena couldn't hold back the tears. She rushed forward and embraced her sister tightly, sobbing into her shoulder.
"Ethel," she choked out, "I'm so sorry. I'll protect you this time. I swear it."
Ethel blinked, startled by the intensity of Cayena's emotions. "Protect me? From what? Did you have a nightmare?"
Cayena pulled back, her mind racing. This was her chance to rewrite everything. She had to act carefully, think strategically, and most importantly, avoid the path of vengeance that had consumed her before.
"Yes," she said finally, forcing a smile. "Just a nightmare. But it's over now."
Ethel smiled back, unconvinced but reassured. "Well, come on then. Mother will scold us if we're late."
Cayena watched her leave, her resolve hardening. The stakes were higher than ever. Freya's betrayal, the Emperor's schemes, and the collapse of her family—this time, she would face them all with the clarity of foresight. She would protect her loved ones and dismantle the web of lies before it ensnared them again.
She had been given a second chance. This time, she would not fail.
The echoes of their voices lingered as Cayena's senses fully awakened. The warmth of the dream ebbed away, leaving her surrounded by the chill of reality. Yet the sight of her room, familiar and untouched by tragedy, anchored her.
She rose from the bed, her fingers trailing over the smooth fabric of her gown. It was strange to feel so small again, her limbs light and unburdened by years of relentless combat and sleepless nights.
Approaching the mirror, she studied her reflection closely, as if searching for cracks in this strange reality. Her youthful face stared back, her cheeks still soft with the fullness of adolescence. Yet, her eyes carried a depth that didn't belong to a fourteen-year-old.
This wasn't a dream. She was sure of it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside the door, followed by Ethel's voice calling her again. "Cayena, hurry! You'll make us late!"
Cayena took a deep breath, brushing back her silver hair. She couldn't let her sister suspect anything was amiss. If she was truly back in the past, then every moment mattered.
"I'm coming!" she called, forcing cheerfulness into her voice.
As she opened the door, Ethel grinned, tugging her toward the hallway. "You're so slow! Father will definitely scold us."
The sight of Ethel's bright smile was a balm to Cayena's heart. She let herself be pulled along, marveling at the details of the home she thought she'd lost forever. The Graymore estate was as grand as she remembered: its sweeping halls adorned with intricate tapestries, chandeliers sparkling like captured stars, and the faint scent of roses wafting from the gardens beyond the windows.
They entered the dining hall, where their parents were already seated. Her father's piercing gaze softened when it landed on her, and her mother's gentle smile made her heart ache with a bittersweet longing.
"Cayena," her father said, his tone firm but warm, "try not to keep everyone waiting."
"Apologies, Father," Cayena replied, bowing slightly before taking her seat.
As breakfast was served, Cayena allowed herself a moment to savor the normalcy of it all. Her family's laughter, the clinking of silverware, the sunlight streaming through the windows—it was perfect.
But beneath the surface of this idyllic scene, her mind raced. She needed to plan her next steps carefully. If this truly was the past, she had a limited window to prevent the chain of events that led to their downfall.
Her first priority was to protect her family from Freya. The woman had been her dearest friend, a sister in all but blood, until the day Cayena discovered the truth. Freya had orchestrated everything—the death of her family, the betrayal that led to her own descent into darkness.
Cayena clenched her fists under the table, her appetite fading. This time, Freya would not succeed.
"Cayena?" Her mother's voice broke through her thoughts. "Are you feeling well? You've hardly touched your food."
She forced a smile. "I'm fine, Mother. Just... thinking about my studies."
Her mother's eyes softened. "Don't push yourself too hard, dear. You've always been such a diligent child."
After breakfast, Cayena excused herself and made her way to the family's private study. She needed to gather as much information as possible about the timeline. The more she understood about this point in time, the better she could prepare.
The study was just as she remembered it, lined with shelves overflowing with books, scrolls, and maps. She ran her fingers along the spines, her gaze falling on a small journal tucked away in a corner. It was hers—a diary she had kept during this period of her life.
Flipping through the pages, she was struck by the innocence of her younger self's musings. The entries spoke of trivial worries, fleeting crushes, and an unwavering trust in Freya.
"Naive," she murmured, her jaw tightening.
A knock at the door startled her. She turned to see her father standing there, his expression unreadable.
"Cayena," he said, stepping into the room, "I've noticed you've been... different today."
She swallowed, her mind scrambling for a plausible explanation. "I just had a strange dream, Father. It's made me think about things differently."
He regarded her for a long moment before nodding. "Dreams can be powerful. But remember, the future is shaped by the choices we make now. Stay vigilant, my daughter."
His words resonated deeply, and she nodded. "I will, Father. I promise."
As he left, Cayena's resolve solidified further. She would rewrite their fate, no matter the cost.
Her second chance was not a gift; it was a responsibility.
And she would not squander it.