Her eyes fluttered open, wide and sudden, as if she had surfaced from hours of troubled sleep. She sprawled on her back, drenched in sweat, chest fell, and rose rapidly. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was dead or alive.
Memories flooded back—she was attacked, the fear of losing, and the impending death.
She had been left alone, and her mangled body struggled for the last thread of its life. She was sure she would die.
And yet, here she was, staring at a wooden ceiling, her breath quickening.
Her hands trembled as they moved over her stomach, chest, and ribs—where she remembered being torn open. No blood. No pain. No wounds. Her brow furrowed.
She sat up abruptly and roughly ran her hands over herself again. She was alive and whole. Impossible.
Her powers had failed her before she lost consciousness. She had been too weak to heal herself. So, how was she alive?
When her mind still reeled from the unbelievable state of her body, her gaze shifted to the room around her.
The air smelled of aged wood. Everything, walls, the round bed in the corner, the dressing table, and the closet were wooden.
A line formed on her forehead as the question crossed her mind. Where was she?
The last thing she remembered was being in a cave, but now she was in a room that only a teenage girl could own.
She turned toward the window. Sunlight barely filtered through the curtains. It was midday.
Slowly, she rose. For some reason, her body felt heavier as if her muscles had stiffened. She raised her hands and noted how much slimmer they had become.
Her brows creased when she stared at her nails. She couldn’t remember the last time they were white; normally, they were darkened by magic.
Her eyes dropped to the plain white dress. She wore a long sleeved, high neckline. The cold wind stung through the light fabric. Nothing like her usual flowing black dress and cloak.
What was going on?
A low growl echoed suddenly, close and deep. "Witch… What have you done?”
She flinched. Her eyes sharpened as she scanned the empty room.There was no one.
No—she was sure. She had heard a voice. It didn’t seem human. Nor beast. Just a voice, wrapped in growls.
“Where is she?” The voice darkened, filled with desperation. “I can’t feel her… I can’t reach her.”
An invisible presence was speaking to her. She took a hesitant step back, scanning the empty room as her heartbeat pounding.
"Who’s there?” she called out, her voice wavering slightly before firming.
"Look at you…” the voice murmured with a pity and something she couldn't understand. “Trying to find me, are you? You think… you can see me?” A low growl rumbled. “This body… it’s ours. But you… you don’t belong.”
She scowled. Whatever it was, it was challenging her, and that irritated her. She paced as she searched.
She stalked to the window if the voice came from outside. She opened the curtain and looked out. Her eyes widened slightly and froze.
Outside were wooden mansions, unfamiliar faces passing by. Her frown deepened. It was a village—neither too wide nor small. Then she saw it—one massive beast on all fours.
Her eyes widened further, and she quickly closed the curtain, stepping back. A werewolf. She was sure of it.
Her heart raced. Had she been captured by werewolves? How did it happen?
Then her fists curled, and eyes sharpened. If werewolves had spared her, they’d made a mistake. They should have killed her when they had the chance.
She rushed to the door, ready to wipe out every single one of them.
She waved her hand with the intent to use magic to throw the door open. But nothing happened. She frowned.
Restoring her powers after draining her strength never took long. Her powers should have returned by now.
She tried again, uttering a spell. The same frustrating results. The stubborn wood remained unmoved.
A cold dread washed over her. Her breath quickened as she stared at her trembling hands. She tried another spell, the easiest one this time.
This had never happened before. She madly paced around the small room, throwing out different gestures, chanting spells she hadn't used in years, desperate for even the faintest flicker.
Nothing answered.
How could this be? Her power was a part of her, like her breath. That was what made her.
She dropped to her knees. She remembered her enemies, how they feared her. Her name had been a weapon in itself, making kingdoms tremble.
Now, staring at her useless hands, she clutched her aching chest. She remained on her knees, her hair a wild mess dipping toward the floor.
Every time she tried to accept the truth, it felt like a thousand blades cutting through her.
Her teeth clenched. What was the point of surviving death if she was stripped of her power?
Who had done this?
She stayed there for nearly an hour, unmoving, as she tried to come to terms with the situation.
Eventually, she rose and strode toward the door, this time using physical strength. She yanked at the lock. The door wouldn’t budge.
“You thought taking her body would give you a fresh start?” the growl returned. “You’ll wish you died!”
