"He fell in love at first sight with you, milady." Nadia spoke. She is one of the maids.
"When he saw you at the ball."
"He asked for your hand in marriage." Another maid squealed.
"Even though you are already promised to Lord Balmir."
"He is aware of Lord Balmir and boldly asks Lord Benedict for your hand in marriage."
"He is very handsome. Strong arms and wide back."
"You could be a princess of the Ajian empire. There is no higher honor in that, my lady." another exclaimed.
"Sadly, your father refused outrightly." the butler replied and everyone went silent and left the room.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Good thing father wasn't greedy. She was proud of her father for being brave and refusing a prince of a large empire. She was his most precious. She still is. But until when will that last.
What would happen if they knew that she dragged Maris to visit the mountains? She planned it from the start. To hide in the carriages and go outside. They always find them before. Their attempts to escape. But not that time.
It is a very unfortunate time.
The carriage is very shaky even though they are in paved roads and she ignored it. The journey had stretched on endlessly; she had lost all sense of time. Hours, maybe. Or longer.
Then, the air began to change. It grew cooler, crisper, the higher altitude making each breath feel sharper in her chest. She could smell something different—earth, maybe, the faint scent of damp ground. The clarity of the air filled her lungs, clean but thin. They were close.
They peeked outside and ---the view was nothing short of breathtaking.
The mountains stretched out before them, their sharp ridgelines breaking into the sky. The landscape felt wide and untouched. Snow clung to the higher peaks, and the lower slopes were covered in dense, dark forest. Below, mist twisted through the ravines, moving slowly like a river of fog, wrapping the lower hills in a soft, pale haze. The trees rippled across the slopes in waves of green, interrupted only by cliffs that dropped off into dizzying depths.
Far below, a waterfall dropped down the face of a rock, its roar faint in the distance.
The sky above was a pale, even blue, with the sun still hanging in the air, casting a muted light that softened the world around them. There were no harsh shadows, just a flat, steady glow that made the landscape seem suspended in time. The silence pressed in, unbroken, as if everything had paused in the stillness.
Then the carriage jolted.
Both girls flinched, startled from their reverie, but the thrill of seeing the mountains dulled their alarm.
The mountain path had grown uneven, the wheels
bumping against loose stones and shallow ruts. The carriage lurched violently to one side—then tipped.
Everything happened in an instant.
The horses screamed. Wood splintered. The world turned sideways. The sound of hooves, panicked and pounding, echoed in the chaos as the wagon tumbled off the edge of the cliff.
They screamed—pure, instinctive terror—as gravity ripped them from their seats. A sickening crack, the snapping of harnesses, and the sharp thud of impact.
Then nothing.
A dull, throbbing pain in her arm pulled her back into consciousness. She groaned softly, opening her eyes to blurred light and broken silence. Slowly, she sat up, her head pounding, the world spinning for a moment before settling.
Her first thought was Maris.
She scanned the area, eyes darting, heart racing. "Maris?" she called out, voice hoarse. No answer.
The sun was still high, casting long shadows through the broken trees. Not far from where she had landed, she spotted the horses—still and crumpled in the grass. Blood pooled beneath them, dark and unmoving. A pang of guilt hit her chest, sharp and sudden.
She tried to rise, but her legs buckled beneath her. Everything ached. Her left arm throbbed with every movement. Gritting her teeth, she reached for a fallen branch—thick, sturdy—and leaned on it for support.
With slow, uneven steps, she began to move, scanning the wreckage for any sign of her sister.
Then she saw her.
Maris lay motionless below, at the base of another ledge just a short drop away. Her white hair—once so luminous in the sunlight—was matted with blood, stark against the rocks. Her leg was twisted in a way that made Amanda's stomach turn.
Her throat was parched and she could speak no more. Panic surged through her. Amanda gripped the branch tighter and scanned the edge, desperate to find a safe way down. Her eyes darted from rock to root, searching for footholds, for anything—
And then she froze.
Something unnatural stirred in the air. A wisp of smoke curled around Maris's body. Black. Thick. Too dark to be just ash or dust. It slithered like it had intention—rising from the ground, wrapping around her limbs, her neck. Amanda's breath caught in her throat.
The smoke pulsed—once—then began to grow. Amanda ducked behind a nearby tree, her back pressed to the rough bark as her breath caught in her throat. She peeked around the trunk, eyes wide, heart hammering so loudly she was sure it would give her away.
The smoke continued to rise, swirling tighter around Maris's body like a shroud. Then—suddenly—it began to shift.
The shape of it changed.
The tendrils pulled upward, stretching and forming outlines. A figure. A silhouette. Slender. Familiar.
Her breath hitched.
It was Maris.
Or something that looked like her.
The smoke had taken her form—same height, same long limbs, even the same cascade of silver-white hair, though it moved as if underwater, swaying in a wind that wasn't there. The creature's head lifted slowly, and Amanda saw the face.
It was Maris's face… but wrong.
Amanda's stomach dropped. She didn't move. Didn't breathe.
And it was standing now—alive, walking—while the real Maris still lay motionless on the ground.
She waited.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time bent strangely under the weight of fear. The creature—whatever it was—didn't move toward her. It simply stood near Maris's body, silent and still, as if watching… or guarding.
Amanda's muscles ached from tension, her wounds pulsing with pain, but she didn't dare shift. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Every leaf rustle, every bird cry sent a new wave of dread through her chest.
The creature lifted her sister effortlessly and took her chance to run—ran like a madman, wild and reckless, her limbs screaming with every stride. She didn't care. Not about the pain, not about the blood sliding down her arm, not about the creature that might hear her fleeing footsteps.
She only knew one thing.
She had to get help.
Or die trying.
Her sister was being taken. By something that wore her face.
And Amanda was the only one who knew.