Fiona gasped.
Cold air rushed into her lungs — not the salty air from the cliff, but the scent of roses and burning candles.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying on a grand bed draped in crimson silk. Golden chandeliers glimmered above her, and a soft voice murmured in the distance,
"Lady Wisteria, you've finally awoken."
Fiona froze. "Lady… Wisteria?"
A maid in a black-and-white dress bowed at her side. Her reflection in the mirror caught Fiona's breath — she wasn't herself anymore. The face staring back had pale skin, ruby lips, and her wide and unblinking, gleamed like amethyst jewels eyes. Her hair was a soft cascade of black strands fading into deep violet, glimmering whenever the light touched it.
She whispered, "This… this isn't me."
But the maid only smiled nervously.
"Please, my lady, you mustn't strain yourself. The Duke awaits you in the grand hall. He says the council meeting cannot begin without you."
The Duke? A council?
Fiona's mind spun. She clutched her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.
Her eyes fell to a familiar object resting on the bedside table — the book, its cover now engraved with the name Wisteria De Altherra.
"You opened me," the voice whispered faintly from within it.
"Now live what you've read."
Fiona — or Wisteria — walked through the marble halls, each step echoing like the heartbeat of a stranger. Servants bowed as she passed, their eyes filled with fear.
Whispers followed her.
"The mad dog lady…"
"They say she poisoned lady Seraphine."
"Her beauty hides her sins."
She didn't understand — until she entered the grand hall and saw the portraits lining the walls.
Every painting was of her — the same black/violet hear, and amethyst eyes.
Her blood ran cold.
"So this is who I am here," she whispered.
"This person looks like a goddess"
In the council chamber, nobles sat in silence as she approached the throne at the end of the room. A tall man with dark hair and sharp eyes — the Duke — stood beside it.
"Lady Wisteria," he said slowly, "we were beginning to think your little... 'illness' would excuse you from judgment."
Fiona forced a cold smile.
"Judgment? For what this time?"
The Duke's eyes narrowed.
"For treason, my lady. They say you tried to kill lady Seraphine again."
Fiona's heart stopped. Again?
She laughed faintly, though fear crawled through her veins.
"You're mistaken," she said carefully. "I… I don't even remember what happened."
The eyes of the Duke's look disappointed — almost cruel.
"How convenient. The villainess forgets her crimes."
He leaned closer, his voice low enough for her alone.
"Tell me, Wisteria… how much longer will you keep pretending you're innocent?"
Fiona clenched her fists beneath the table.
*I'm not pretending… I'm not even her.* Fiona said in her mind
But as she met his eyes, a flash of memory tore through her mind — a silver dagger, blood on her hands, and the same woman falling to her knees before her.
Her vision blurred.
Her breath came in gasps.
The world spun again, and she heard the book's voice echo faintly inside her mind:
"Every villain has a truth they tried to forget."
That night, Fiona sat by the balcony overlooking the moonlit city.
Her fingers trembled as she opened the book again.
The pages shimmered. And there, written in elegant handwriting, were new words forming right before her eyes:
"She who sought to escape her world has become its curse."
Fiona whispered to herself,
"Then I'll find a way to escaped in this hell," she whispered. "Even if I have to k1ll myself."
And in that moment, the wind shifted — as if the world itself was listening.