The world was not supposed to feel like this. Aya's last memory had been fire in her veins, her body screaming against the wound carved into her chest. The smell of iron, the cloaked figure's blurred silhouette, and the sickening image of Tessa lying still—those images were burned into her very soul. She remembered lunging, clawing, striking with every ounce of desperation she had, and then… silence.
But silence didn't last.
Aya's eyes snapped open. She gasped, choking on air that tasted wrong—too dry, too thin. The cave ceiling loomed above her, but it wasn't the same. The texture of the stone felt sharper, darker, every crack and shadow crawling across her vision. Her body felt alien. Smaller. Fragile. Her limbs trembled as she tried to push herself up.
Her hands—her hands weren't her own.
They were pale, thinner than hers had ever been. She stared at the soft fingers, trembling as she lifted them into the dim light. Aya's throat tightened, her voice breaking as a strangled whisper escaped.
"…Tessa?"
The sound was wrong, too soft, too gentle. Her heart seized. She touched her face with trembling fingers, tracing the curve of a cheek that wasn't hers. Long strands of hair fell across her vision—Tessa's hair.
Panic ripped through her chest. Aya scrambled to her feet, only for pain to explode through her abdomen. She doubled over, clutching at herself. Her shirt—no, Tessa's shirt—was soaked through with blood. Her breathing came ragged and shallow.
"No… no no no, this… this isn't real," Aya whispered, her voice shaking.
She felt no trace of life in her old body, no anchor to return to. Only this one—the body that had been Tessa's. The faint pulse of her mana clung weakly to the vessel, like a candle's flame in a storm.
Aya staggered back to where Her body was. Her eyes darted around frantically, searching, hoping for some proof that this was another cruel trick. But there was nothing. Only the memory of stillness, of warmth fading away.
Her throat burned as the truth clawed its way up. "She's… gone."
The words shattered her. Aya fell to her knees, hands shaking violently as tears blurred her vision. She pressed her borrowed palms against her face, trying to shut it all out, but the smell of blood lingered. Her shoulders convulsed as sobs tore from her chest—raw, broken sounds that echoed in the cave.
She cried until her voice cracked. Until there was nothing left but the hollow ache in her chest. And when she finally pulled her hands away, the cave looked even darker than before.
Then she remembered.
The cloaked figure. The daggers glinting in the half-light. The way their movements had been effortless, almost mocking. Aya's breath hitched, fury igniting inside her even as her body trembled from exhaustion.
Her vision swam as she forced herself to stand again, swaying on her unsteady legs. She stumbled toward the deeper shadows of the cave, rage tightening every muscle.
"Where are you?" she hissed, voice shaking with venom. "Come back! I'll kill you—I'll tear you apart—"
But there was nothing. No figure, no sound but the faint drip of water against stone. The enemy was gone, leaving only blood and despair in their wake.
Aya's legs finally buckled, and she collapsed against the cave wall. Her breath came ragged, every inhale stinging like fire. She pressed her hand against her abdomen and felt warmth spilling through her fingers—Tessa's wound, deep and unhealed.
The world tilted. Her vision blurred at the edges, narrowing until all she could see was the faint flicker of torchlight in her memory—the one Tessa had always kept when they huddled close during stormy nights.
"…Tessa…" she whispered, her voice breaking into a hoarse cry.
The darkness pulled at her, heavy and irresistible. Her body, no longer hers, was failing. She tried to fight it, to cling to consciousness, but the weight was overwhelming.
Her last thought before collapsing was not of vengeance, nor of the cloaked killer. It was of Tessa's laugh, soft and bright, the way she would wrinkle her nose whenever Aya mispronounced a word in her language.
That memory was the last warmth Aya carried as she fell sideways onto the cold stone floor.
And then, silence returned.