“Forfeit my life?”

  “Yes.”

  Hadassah stared at the figure before her, half-wondering if she had heard wrong. But he was serious.

  “Since you’re not saying anything, I’ll assume you’re not averse to the idea?” he continued, this time with a hint of mirth.

  “Father, you always say I should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger.”

  “I’m glad you at least listened to me.”

  A cup of tea appeared before her, seemingly out of nowhere. Hadassah’s face scrunched slightly. “So, you’ve given up on keeping up appearances,” she observed, looking down at the cup, then up at him. “Arcadia.”

  The figure before her shifted, revealing not her father but a young girl with pale skin and long, straight black hair that brushed the wooden floor beneath her white robes. Smirking, Arcadia poured tea into the cup. “Asking me to die—you’re quite bad at illusions.”

  Arcadia laughed, amused. “I wasn’t trying to trick you, Hadassah. I’ve waited twenty years to meet my sister. I thought I at least deserved to laugh a little.”

  ‘Sister.’

  Arcadia watched Hadassah keenly, expecting some sort of reaction, but she got nothing. Hadassah merely took the cup and took a sip; she was unwilling to be carried away by Arcadia. Even if she felt shocked at the revelation, she would not show it.

  “What is it you want from me, Arcadia? Surely, you didn’t go to all this trouble just to politely ask me to die.”

  “Well, is that such an outlandish request?”

  Hadassah couldn’t help it; she giggled at how absurd this situation was quickly becoming. “You are really Arcadia? I thought you were older; you don’t seem a day older than sixteen.”

  “I look pretty, don’t I?” she lifted her hands to the sides of her face and fluttered her lashes bashfully.

  “You do,” Hadassah admitted, Arcadia was beautiful; her skin seemed like quality jade, her lips a blueish grey, and her eyes a stunning silver. “So, if you are my sister, then my mother—”

  Arcadia nodded; she interlocked her fingers and rested her chin on the back of her hands. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

  “Why should I be? It is just a mother; I’m sure everyone has a mother.”

  “Well, that’s true,” she drawled, “still, It’s no fun if you’re like this~”

  Hadassah tried not to roll her eyes. “I assume you must have something to tell me; you even poured me tea.”

  Her smile finally dropped, and she looked away from Hadassah to the forest before them. “You spent over half a year in this world; what do you think about it?”

  Hadassah joined her, looking at the greenery. It was an illusion, but it was still as magnificent as Valdemar. The leaves of the trees were such deep green it looked like a sea of emeralds when the sunlight found it’s way through the gaps. The way they swayed in the breeze was hypnotic; animals scampered through holes in the trees, beds nestled in branches, and fae hid behind the tree trunks, but their buzzing and the afterglow were easy enough to spot if you looked closely enough.

  “I love Valdemar.” Hadassah said, as if she were confessing her devotion, that her home was simply beautiful.

  Arcadia watched the scene for a bit more. “That’s not what I asked.”

  Hadassah’s lips relaxed, and she peeled her eyes away and turned to face Arcadia, who was also looking at her. The room they were in was darker somewhat, as if the light from the outside could not cross into the corners to fully illuminate it.

  “I don’t know; I do feel like this world is pretty in it’s own way.” The Vortigern tree was a force of nature; the starry sky of the grasslands, the dancing brown rabbits, the stone colossus she had seen—they were all beautiful.

  “You don’t seem particularly thrilled about it.”

  Hadassah clenched her jaw; it was hard to be thrilled. Whenever she was starting to see the beauty in the world, she was reminded of her place as human. Though she was merely a spectator, never getting involved directly, always seeing and never acting.

  “I don’t like it very much.”

  Arcadia stared at her, eyes boring into Hadassah’s for what felt like a full minute before she looked down at her cup of tea.

  “If I were to destroy the beastmen?”

  Hadassah was silent.

  Destroying all beastmen? That was absurd.

  “I would not let you.”

  “Why not? Don’t I deserve my revenge?”

  Hadassah took another sip of tea, feeling her throat dry up as her heart began to race, her body bracing for a fight. “Do you not think humans deserve vengeance?”

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  Hadassah looked up, her pupils constricting at the sight before her. Arcadia was gone, replaced by the image of Esther. Her hair was dry and brown, her skin grey and lifeless, and her eyes dull. A snapped noose dangled around her neck, and instead of a teacup, she clutched a bright pink bead as though it were something too precious to release.

  “Do I not deserve vengeance?”

  Hadassah steadied her breathing, forcing down the urge to cry. This was just another illusion. She took two deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

  The child began to cry, “Big sister—”

  The shattering of clay silenced the girl.

  Hadassah was left heaving, her elbows pressed against the table, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she stared at the wood beneath her. She had thrown her teacup at the wall, where it shattered, leaving a damp stain.

  “Oh, it seems you do have a weak point,” the voice taunted, shifting yet again. But Hadassah still couldn’t bring herself to look up.

  “Do you think what they did to me was justified?” The voice had changed to Vivian’s now. Hadassah didn’t dare look up, knowing exactly what she would see. Footsteps limped around her, echoing in the stillness. She saw the figure’s pale feet—one broken, one bleeding—leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the floor. The figure moved until it was standing directly behind her, casting an icy presence over her.

  Drops of cold liquid hit her neck, smelling of iron. She knew it was blood.

  “Do you think that was justice?”

  “Do you think that was justice!?”

  “DO YOU THINK THAT WAS JUSTICE!?”

  “NO!”

  Hadassah screamed, desperate for it to stop, and finally, the voices ceased.

  “So, should I kill the beastmen?”

  Arcadia’s voice returned, close to her ear, sending a chill down her spine. Hadassah jerked in surprise.

  “Humans have done worse,” Hadassah spat.

  “Have they? Like you did?”

  The voice shifted again, this time to Verena’s. A loud thump resounded as the body collapsed to the floor, eyes teary with rage. The crushed, twisted body of Verena from the arena looked up at her with a wild grin.

  Hadassah’s tears began to fall freely.

  “Like you did?”

  “I—” She hadn’t.

  “You did that, didn’t you?”

  “Yes!”

  “You were angry, weren’t you?”

  Hadassah choked on her words, her throat tightening, her vision blurring with tears. “Yes, I was angry! I was so angry!” How could she not be? Esther had died in such a cruel way; she was not a saint who would be forgiving.

  The figure was dragged backward, as if by an unseen force. Verena’s mangled body disappeared, replaced by Arcadia, once again seated at the table.

  “You are a coward, Hadassah.”

  She was a coward.

  The first time she had heard of the lynching in the brown rabbit settlement, what did she do? She hid, like a god damned coward. When Esther’s body was being auctioned, she did nothing. She was saved by Vivian’s intervention.

  “Tell me, Hadassah, why didn’t you destroy those who stood in your way? Why did you let your people die before your eyes? You are a princess of Emeris!”

  The sudden shout made Hadassah flinch as she crumbled under Arcadia’s fury.

  “You are incompetent. A human princess who could not even save those who were innocent! And you claim to have a moral high ground? You are a coward, Hadassah!”

  Hadassah lowered her head onto her arms on the table, her body wracked with sobs.

  She cried for what felt like hours, but it was only minutes. Arcadia watched her the entire time, unyielding.

  “A princess who couldn’t save a child, who let her anger blind her to justice. You are not worthy. But I have no choice.”

  Arcadia’s voice softened. “You may cry now, but understand, you cannot continue as you have. You are the last princess of Emeris. You were born to sit on that throne. That is your birthright.”

  Hadassah didn’t move, her heart heavy.

  Then, she felt Arcadia’s hand rest on her head.

  “You must live differently, Hadassah. I don’t know how to pass my inheritance to you if you remain as you are. I wanted you to be ready, to understand gradually. But I am running out of time. I don’t know how long my soul will linger here.”

  Hadassah finally looked up, meeting Arcadia’s gaze, surprised by the kindness in her eyes.

  “I was killed twenty years ago in this very place, by our sister. She has gone unchecked because of our mother’s disappearance. No matter what, Hadassah, you must rise above her. You were born to destroy this world. You were born to die.”

  “I don’t want to die.” It was all she could manage to say.

  Arcadia didn’t scold her. Instead, she turned to look out into the forest, and Hadassah followed her gaze. The scene shifted, revealing a bustling marketplace, filled with cheering people, brown rabbits dancing, bloodhounds patrolling. In the centre of the square, charred, broken half-caste bodies hung from large wooden poles arranged in an ‘X’ shape.

  “Don’t look away,” Arcadia commanded, her voice harsh. “You shouldn’t have looked away then, and you will not look away now. Face your responsibility!”

  Hadassah flinched, forcing herself to look, even as her stomach churned and her tears flowed freely. She was witnessing everything she had turned away from.

  “Never look away again, Hadassah. You must bear the responsibility of your lineage.”

  Hadassah took in every detail—the lifeless eyes, the blackened skin, the brutality—and gagged, fighting the urge to turn away. But she held her gaze, even as her empty stomach tried to wretch. Eventually, the scene dissolved into darkness.

  “If I destroyed the beastmen, would I be wrong?” Arcadia asked, her voice cold.

  Hadassah gritted her teeth. “No…”

  Arcadia remained silent, but her expression was deeply displeased, as if Hadassah’s answer hadn’t been enough.

  Hadassah was thrown back with brutal force, as if struck by a powerful blow to her abdomen. Disoriented, she tried to regain her bearings, but before she could make sense of the pain, a foot came crashing down on her stomach. She gasped, her body instinctively curling in on itself. The foot lifted, only to come down again, and again, relentless.

  The agony was blinding. With a sickening crack, she felt a rib give way, sharp pain stabbing into her side as her fractured rib punctured her lung. She screamed, her voice choked and ragged, each breath a struggle, each stomp forcing out the last bits of strength she had. She tried to crawl, to stand, even just to flinch away—but the onslaught continued, her body battered beyond the ability to even cry out.

  When her body finally lay limp and unmoving, her tormentor bent down and pulled her into an embrace. Bitingly cold arms wrapped around her bruised frame, the words that followed sinking deep into her hollowed, pain-soaked mind.

  “I’m so sorry,” the voice whispered, a sickly sweetness to the tone. “You made Mother so angry.” Hadassah’s body trembled in fear as the woman held her closer.

  “I’m so sorry, darling,” she repeated, voice twisted with mock tenderness. “Don’t make me mad again.” Her grip tightened, and her tone dropped to a pleading whisper. “Zarek, don’t be mad at me.”

  Zarek.

  The woman had called her Zarek.

  Hadassah’s awareness shifted as she realised she was inhabiting the body of a young boy, his hair long and unkempt, his skin marred with fresh bruises and open wounds oozing blood. Yet, as the woman held him close, those wounds began to close, his body regenerating with an unnatural speed. But just as the pain faded, he was pulled back, torn away from her grasp. The woman’s face remained obscured in shadow, her figure unsettlingly close, her naked body pressed against him.

  “Mother promises you, if you do this for me, we’ll be together forever,” she whispered, her voice syrupy and possessive, clinging to him like an unwanted embrace.

  Hadassah felt her body shake even more violently as the woman clutched her hair, dragging her away.