I was totally acing this.
Rael had been teaching me for weeks now, and at first, I'd stumbled around like a very lost cat in a new house—twitchy tail, gangly limbs, and all the grace of a newborn giraffe. Not ideal for someone meant to master the subtle art of killing. But now? Now I was practically purring with satisfaction.
My instincts—those fine, feline reflexes I'd only just realized I still possessed—were finally coming alive in the most spectacular way.
Take this morning, for instance. I'd been told to slip past a particularly jittery guard without making a sound. And somehow, I did something that only a cat—or someone very much like one—could manage: I crept like smoke.
I paused for one second on the rooftop, assessing the scene. Then, without thinking, I dropped low, melting into the shadows, moving like the world's smallest, deadliest ninja. Every motion was smooth and deliberate, each footfall a whisper. My body moved without hesitation, the way a predator does when it already knows how the hunt ends.
Rael stood behind me, arms crossed, watching with barely concealed shock as I glided past the guards unnoticed. My tail twitched in satisfaction. The mission was nearly done before anyone even knew I was there.
"You've… improved," Rael said, voice low, as though unsure whether to be impressed or deeply disturbed. "You didn't even make a sound."
I blinked up at him, beaming. "I know, right? I'm incredible. An actual assassin." I paused, then added with a smirk, "And I didn't step in that mud puddle like I did last week. Progress!"
Rael looked like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or groan. He chose groan.
The more time passed, the more my instincts took over. I began slipping past guards with practiced ease, climbing walls like a very determined house cat who'd made a career change. Every challenge felt like a puzzle—a thing to paw at and solve.
But it wasn't just physical anymore.
I was starting to get a feel for people.
I could sense when someone was about to spot me, knew the moment their attention wavered just enough for me to slip through. I could tell, with eerie precision, when someone was watching me—even from the edge of my vision.
It didn't feel learned. It felt… remembered.
One evening, during a mission to sneak into a merchant's compound and steal something shiny and vaguely important (you know, standard assassin fare), Rael stared at me as I pulled myself up onto a windowsill, tail flicking with contentment.
"You're staring like you've seen a ghost," I muttered, pausing mid-climb.
Rael hesitated, gaze flickering. "You've improved," he said slowly. "But it's not just that. You're… different. Like you've done all this before."
My grip on the windowsill tightened. My heart missed a beat.
"Done what before?" I asked, forcing a laugh. "Breaking and entering? Scaling walls? You're the one who trained me."
Rael didn't look at me. "No. It's not something I taught you. It's something… else. Like it's in your bones. Like you've lived this already."
A chill slipped down my spine.
He didn't know. He couldn't know. I'd never told him about my past lives. He only knew I had a… complicated history. But his words dug at something deeper, something raw. It wasn't just speculation. It felt like recognition.
"Rael," I said slowly, my voice tightening. "How do you know me?"
For a moment, his face froze. He looked straight at me—and there was something in his eyes. Something old. Something familiar.
"You don't remember, do you?" he said softly.
"What do you mean?" I whispered.
"You've changed," he murmured, voice barely above the breeze. "But I haven't. Not really."
I stared at him. My heart beat loud in my ears.
"What do you mean, you haven't?"
Rael inhaled like the truth weighed heavy on his lungs. "You've experienced this before," he said. "You always have. And I…"
"You what?" I pressed, voice sharp with unease.
He hesitated. His expression shuttered, but beneath it, I caught the edges of something fragile. Vulnerable.
"Not just me," he said. "Us."
I blinked. The word echoed in my chest.
Us?
I didn't remember anything like that. Not in this life. Not with him. But the way he said it—like he'd known me across time, like he'd found me again—it stirred something I couldn't name. A thread of recognition, coiled too deep to grasp.
I wanted to ask more. To demand answers. But Rael looked so… guarded. Like if I pushed too hard, the moment would shatter.
And I didn't want to lose this strange, delicate thing between us—whatever it was.
Whatever he meant by we've been through this before, it left me with more questions than answers.
My tail twitched uneasily.
Maybe my instincts had been right to be suspicious. Maybe there was more to this life than knives, rooftops, and fish carts. And maybe, just maybe, I wasn't ready to face it yet.
But something told me—I would soon.