She opened her eyes with a start, out of breath.

Ever so slowly she came back to her senses, her breathing normal once again. Stabbed. She had been stabbed by her beloved sisters.

Gently bringing her right hand to touch her heart’s wound, Seyran found her fingers touching a delicate textile and no sign of cut on it whatsoever. It didn’t hurt either. No, not really. It wasn’t that she wasn’t feeling any pain. Since her birth, there was always this unbearable pain she felt and even when she started controlling her powers and though she could diminish that sensation, it was still there.

But not now. Now it had significantly lessened. How come? She could still remember that raspy voice of this nefarious seer telling her ‘and ‘till your death, you shall forever suffer’. Or was it the answer? Was she dead?

No. There was still the pain; even if the intensity wasn’t as much as before it was still here, telling her she was indeed alive.

Seyran sat up, surveying her surroundings. It was as dark as a starless sky. She snapped her fingers. Nothing happened. She snapped them again. Still nothing. The third time she repeated her action, a sharp pain shot in her stomach and she bent over, letting out a soft moan.

Whatever happened to her magic?

She clutched her stomach hard, willing the pain to disappear. She was so weak. Even in her early years, she was certain, she had never felt this helpless.

‘Three missing pieces’ the old man had said decades ago. ‘Our death or your glory’.

Why was she remembering that fanatic words now? Well, she told herself, any distraction from her suffering was welcome anyway!

Some moments later the ache subsided letting her panting. It was so dark; she couldn’t even see her own fingers when waving them in front of her eyes!

Seyran sat with her legs crossed and closed her eyes to analyze the situation.

Her thoughts weren’t really coherent.

She couldn’t possibly fathom the reason for her survival. She was stabbed right in the heart for crying out loud. And maybe had she immediately used her magic on her wound then, of course, she would survive. But she hadn’t and two others stab followed right after. Her being alive was simply impossible. And facing this impossible situation, somehow she was at a loss of what to do.

She ought to be angry at the very least she tried to reason but for a reason or another, she just couldn’t.

Not if the receiving end of her anger was them.

There was just this empty feeling leaving her emotionless and detached; aloof as she had never been. Now, she could say and actually mean it, nothing matter to her anymore.

She tried to get up, took two steps walking ever so slowly but lost her balance and grabbed the thing nearest to her. She didn’t know what it was just that sound of materials crashing and breaking followed and soon there were hurried footsteps heard coming her way.

“Mistress!” cried the male voice in alarm, out of breath. “Mistress, are you alright?” he asked at distance not daring to go inside.

That voice sounded familiar.Straightening her standing position and with an autocratic voice she called out.

“Come”

“May mistress pardon this servant’s rudeness” he begged and made the rice paper slide. He was kneeling with his head bowed and his lamp was by his side lightly lightening the room.

“What are mistress commands?”

Having some light, Seyran looked at her surroundings and saw that the place was filled with various candles and ordered him to light them all.

The place now alight and visible for her contemplation felt somewhat familiar.

That table beside her, glancing at it, she could guess the number of scratches that adorned the left side due to a certain cat. Those broken pieces on the floor, they were the remains of two exquisite vases which each cost dearly. That bed she just got up from: it was so big, yet she knew that the inside materials weren’t of the best quality. She had this impression that she always got up early to make sure to get out of it, for most of the time it was unpleasant to sleep on. However, most of the time she couldn’t, because her body would require her to lay down.

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It seemed that now that she got a good glimpse at those various furnitures, the details of their existence would naturally find a way in her memory making it seemed as though she had always been there.

There was this strange feeling of nostalgia as though one finally came home after years and years of absence. Yet at the same time, she was aware that she had never put a foot in this whatsoever residence.

It was a strange and soothing feeling altogether.

“Lift your face” she commanded the young man who had resumed his kneeling position at the entrance of her bedroom.

Lifting his head, she saw a teenager, not yet a man. He was about eighteen or maybe a little above. He couldn’t be more than twenty-one for sure.

Seyran had never had any interest in males -nor in females for that matter. She had never planned to have any children -not that her fate would have let her if that seer could be trusted. And now, thinking about the damned man, she assumed, maybe this was what he was talking about when he said ‘dead but not dead’.

Anyway, that matter aside, she could claim without anyone protesting that this youth in front of her was a peerless beauty. One whose gender could be confused and had she not hear him talked, she could have bet one glass of her favorite wine he was a woman. He was pleasant to look at, just a little skinny though. His long black hair was untied; his clothing sloppy, letting people supposed he was in a great hurry to come here, fearing something might have really happened to her.

“Who are you?” She asked him in that ice cold voice she always had.

She saw him trembled a little.

“Your humble servant is Yenaigai, princess” he answered, lowering his head. Something in his meekness didn’t sit well with her but she didn’t dwell in that impression.

“Who am I?”

He bit his lips, his eyes turning a little red, wanting but unable to cry. His mistress’s sickness was flaring up again. Still facing the floor, he answered.

“My mistress is the first princess of Yande, Xian Jue Seyran, daughter of the great Xian Xie, herself descendant of Xian Yuuna the conqueror, and her second consort Zixin.”

The great Xian Xie? Xian Yuuna the conqueror?

“I see.” Came her reply, even though she didn’t. Feeling her strength leaving her, she walked back to her bed and sat crossed-legs. “Bring me a mirror”.

He bowed, got up and rummaged through her first drawer, bringing out a bronze one. Her eyes narrowed; otherwise, she kept silent, taking the item in her hands, shuddering a little from its coldness.

She couldn’t really see that much but the little things she could see confirmed her suspicions. She was younger.

Since the room was alight, she had that impression that her body was younger but she didn’t know how much. Now, even though it wasn’t clear she could see that at the very least almost fifteen years were diminished from her previous self.

It was her own face. Just younger. And maybe more sickly and malnourished? She seemed sixteen, perhaps seventeen years old. Drat! She really wished she could see better. It was all blurry and the yellowish light from the candles wasn't really helping. Well, the mirror itself looked old and she could feel through her skin all its many grazes. Putting the item on the bed by her side, she focused her attention on her hands. They were too skinny, all bony and she wasn’t sure if that sickly color they had was an effect of the light or if they were really like that. A pity she couldn’t use her magic to light the room better.

Seyran laid her hands on her thighs; her attention was once again on the man in front of her.

“How old am I this year?”

“Answering mistress, mistress shall be nineteen this year.”

Nineteen? How come her body was this small? Looking so frail and pale. Was she really this ill?

Yenaigai found boldness in her silence “If this servant may…”

“Speak” she allowed.

“Mistress is sick. Mistress may not remember but this sickness will show up every once in a while making mistress faint for days and upon waking up mistress will not remember.”

“I see.”

Fainting and not remembering. Hm, she had it easier than her last sickness anyway, it wasn’t a big deal.

Yenaigai saw his mistress silent like she always was after he explained and his heart sank. Wouldn’t it be different this time?

Had she reincarnated? Seyran asked herself. No, it couldn’t be that right?

She didn’t feel like she had entered someone’s body. This body looked exactly like hers in Unzu, the same voice. And rather than feeling she had entered someone else’s body, she had the impression that she had recuperated what had always been hers. It was as if somehow, her consciousness had awoken in this body but that she lacked something.

Yes, that’s the word. She was feeling that something was still lacking and didn’t know what.

‘Elder sister should take back what had rightfully always been hers.’ Kayran’s voice whispered in her ears.

She clutched her outfit, missing a heartbeat while at the same time her outward appearance made no sign of perturbation at all leaving Yenaigai unable to discover the turmoil of her inside.

‘Sister should just relax and let us youngsters do it’. Now it was Zoria’s happy voice.

‘Us three will always strive to make your life easier!’ insisted Seith.

From those cold blue eyes, a lone tear run down her right cheek, while her expression hardened becoming colder and a murderous aura flared up.

Yenaigai stared in disbelief, a point of panic and a little excitement in his eyes. Whether he had hallucinated that tear he would never know, but he sure as hell could feel this irrepressible anger from his mistress. Was it the change the oracle told him about? Was his mistress going to take revenge on all those people?

‘Mistress’, he vowed in his heart. ‘I’ll follow you until my death’.