"Grandma… please turn off the lights…" I pressed the pillow to my ear, but the birds outside my window kept chirping. It was annoying, to be honest. I would never understand people who enjoyed the chirp—
𝘉𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴....? 𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.
My wyws opened and I pushed myself up, and my muscles screamed in protest. My shoulders, back, and legs all ached as if I'd been folded into a box for weeks. My arms shook when I tried to lift them, and my spine protested with a stiff ache.
𝘈𝘩𝘩... 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵? 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵—
I looked up ahead and froze.
What in the name of god!?
The sight in front of me made my chest tighten. White shining curtains hung so tall and wide they felt like walls themselves, letting in sunlight in delicate streams. I looked down and the bed I lay on… It wasn't my bed. The frame was sturdy, the mattress soft, and the blanket actually felt warm. The wall looked different too, without the familiar crack or the old poster I had taped up to hide the crack in wall.
Everything here gleamed and it was too clean and perfect.
This isn't my room. This… this can't be real.
I turned my head slowly, left then right, my stomach tightening with disbelief. The walls, the floor, even the air felt like they didn't belong to me. My old room had smelled like dust and old paper. But this smelled faintly of flowers and something… expensive.
Where am I? And whose… whose room is this?
Did my neighbor send me to a hospital?
I glanced down at the bedsheet beneath me. It was soft, smooth and almost glowing...like silk. My hand drifted over it and it was weird... My hand didn't have the scar of needles—
My hand… wait… my hand…
It wasn't mine. The fingers were small and slender, perfectly shaped, pale with a faint warmth. The skin was smooth, untouched by scars or roughness, and the veins didn't jut out the way they usually did.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.
My breath hitched. My heart thumped so loud I thought it might burst.
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦?
A lock of hair spilled forward, brushing my face. I reached up automatically, then froze again. Long strands slid between my fingers, soft as silk, almost like ribbons. They were deep, glossy red, catching the light like rubies.
My hair was white. It had always been white.
I had a problem which made my hair white. This isn't possible…
I swallowed hard and looked around the room again. To my left, a huge big mirror stood and besides it an absurdly ornate dressing table stood, like it belonged in a queen's palace. It had hree mirrors with carved details, and a sculpted head wearing a crown in the center. Tiny jars and trinkets cluttered the top, but they weren't necessary. I focused on… my hand, my hair, my body again. This wasn't me.
I forced myself up off the bed, pressing my palms to the bed for support. My legs trembled violently, like they were made of jelly, and every muscle in my back and arms hurt. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥? I gritted my teeth and slowly shuffled toward the mirror. Each step was a battle against my stiff joints and wobbly knees.
My reflection hit me before I reached the mirror, and I nearly stumbled backward.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦...𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦.
My short hair, purple eyes, freckles....all were gone. Instead, a girl stared back with golden eyes, almond-shaped and sharp at the edges, half-lidded and weak. Her hair tumbled in soft waves around her waist, red as rubies. Her skin glowed faintly, more ivory than white but it was smooth and unblemished. Even in a plain white gown, with hair messy and limbs weak, she looked… impossibly elegant.
I blinked hard. How could it be!? The image blinked with me. It's blinking with me… that's… mine?
My hands shook as I reached forward. Fingertips pressed against the cool glass. The mirror didn't lie, and yet it was impossible.
I barely recognized my own voice whispering, trembling, "W-what… what happened to me?"
My voice sounded so bold and heavy. It was like it could intimidate anyone.
I grabbed my throat and stumbled back. I couldn't believe that in the mirror that woman was me.
"I—" A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my head. I stumbled onto the soft surface beneath me.
"AHHH!" I clutched my skull. It felt like something was being shoved into my head, poking, twisting. My knees gave out and I collapsed, pressing my forehead to the floor.
"Please… stop! Stop! It hurts… let me go…"
A voice came from behind me.
"Hwæt! Eart þu eall riht?"
I froze. My eyes widened. Who was it? Man or woman? I couldn't even tell but voive sounded feminine... I couldn't understand a single word.
Those footsteps moved closer towards me...no behind me. That person was behind me.
"Hæf þu clypode læce and Hlāford Kirill hrædlice?"
I flinched violently at the loud voice.
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯? 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵.
"Hwæt gelamp? Þin wyrð, hlæfdige Meredia?"
A sudden touch on my back made me shiver uncontrollably. My body shook.
"No… no… please don't… don't hurt me… please…" I clutched hands around my arms tighter.
A few more steps came into the room. They spoke in that strange, foreign tongue again.
"Hwæt hæfst þu nu gedon? Hwær is hlæfdige on flore?"
"I—I didn't do anything," I whispered, my voice shaking.
"Wilt þū þurh hlaford Cyrill beon geswenced? Þū ne mægtest ǣnne ǣnlicne úre ādlige hlǣfdige bewarian!"
One of them suddenly stepped right in front of me. Shoes on their feet, white leggings wrapped around their legs. Then they bent on their knees.
My whole body tensed, stiff as a board, as if that could stop them from touching me… or killing me.
"Hlāfdige," her hands rested on my shoulders. "Setta þu up. Þu scealt na beo on þære flor. Winter hæfð eac læt."
"No… no… no… don't kill me," I whimpered, my teeth chattering.
I managed to lift my head, tears blurring my vision. All I could make out was a vague shape. It was a woman in a strange outfit. Puffing sleeves, a weird apron, and a bonnet wrapped around her head.
"Hlāfdige? Hit is ic…"
Her hands moved, and I caught sight of something unfamiliar in her grip.
𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱... 𝘐𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱...
I didn't know what it was but It was sharp and it's pointy end was shining as if it wanted to be inside my body and suck the blood out of me.
My stomach sank. I pushed myself backward on the floor, palms pressing hard against the soft mattress to keep from falling. Every inch felt like my heart was trying to leap out of my chest.
𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵… 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘦…
I slid back as fast as I could, but my back hit the lamp perched on the nightstand beside the bed. The sudden impact sent it toppling over.
The glass globe shattered across the floor, oil spilling in dark, sticky puddles, the flame flickering and sputtering as it met the slick surface. My chest heaved, my knees trembling, and I pressed my palms harder against the floor, trying to stop myself from sliding further.
I froze, eyes wide, staring at the shards and the spilled oil.
Suddenly, the door on the adjacent wall of bed, creaked open. I ducked behind the bed, heart hammering so hard it hurt.
A figure stepped in. It was a tall man, a tall anf he was clad in… metal? A armor? My eyes widened. Why would someone wear—
There, on his waist was a sword. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦.
I screamed.
" Don't kill me please! Don't—don't come near me!"
The man's eyes snapped to those women first. His voice was loud and harsh.
"Hwæt hæfst þu hiere gedon? Ne mæg þu hiere wel healdan!? Hwȳ is hēo on grund!?
The women scrambled, heads bowed, voices quivering.
"Forgyf us, Hlǣford! We ne wisten… we wisten na…"
My knees shook. I stayed crouched, trembling behind the bed, not moving an inch. The sword glinted. My fingers clawed into the floor as if it could keep me from being taken.
𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦....𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘮𝘦...
He ran his hands over his face, like he was stressed, then he looked at me.
𝘕𝘰... 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦.
"Eri, is hit wel? Ne beo ðu ne forht. Ic eom her. Nan mann ne sceal ðe wundan."
My chest hammered. Every muscle in me screamed. he crossed the room in a few big, fast strides, and suddenly he was… only a few steps away.
"Miht þu up? Standan?"
I couldn't back up anymore. My back had already slammed the lampshade. I was cornered.
𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘯... 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰...
The door 𝘸𝘢𝘴 o𝘱𝘦n. My brain refused to think beyond that and it wanted to me to just run. This was the only way to escape.
"I…" My voice caught in my throat. I stood shakily, knees wobbling. He didn't move, didn't even lift a hand. His sword hung at his side, but his eyes… they weren't angry. He didn't move to grab me immediately.
"Eri... Wilt þu eft slæpan? Bæð þu nu bet?"
I didn't understand, but… his tone? It sounded questioning and calm and most importantly, soft like he was saying words of care. I nodded, barely.
1… 2… 3…
I jumped. My knees buckled immediately, threatening to collapse under me, but I forced my legs forward, scrambling toward the door.
𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵
Then—BAM! My head bumped into something or someone. My head snapped up.
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵.... 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵.... 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴?
I looked up. A man—a boy— stood before me. his eyes were different. one blue… one gold. Panic punched me in the gut.
I stumbled backward, fell on my hips again.
𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘪 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦.
Around me, their foreign tongues started again.
Læfdi! Læfdi feoll! Hio ne wile us neah lætan...
"Ic wille lædan læce. Þu wilt niman hie, min Drihten. Hie is wyrceðe wundorlice."
"Esther, niman hīe."
"Hwæt? Forhwȳ is hēo swā forht?"
My hands covered my face in defeat. I wanted to go home but these strange people and stranage language hurt my head.
My head spun.
𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢, 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦.
Something was happening to me. I felt heavier as if gravity was pulling me to fall back.
The last thing I saw were those delicate, strange hands that weren't mine, then the world tipped. Everything swirled, and the room, the people, the light....all collapsed around me.