Silence.
That was the first thing I noticed — the complete, suffocating stillness. No music. No whispers. No heartbeat except my own.
The second thing was the pain — dull at first, then searing. It rolled through me like a storm, leaving behind a body that didn't feel like mine. My skin was colder, smoother. My chest rose and fell with a strange rhythm, as though I had forgotten how to breathe.
And when I opened my eyes, the world was no longer red — it was black and silver.
I sat up slowly, every movement deliberate, afraid that if I went too fast, I'd fall apart. The sheets beneath me were made of silk, black as midnight. The walls were carved marble, veined like veins of ice. A tall mirror stood at the far end of the room, draped in shadow.
The woman from before — the one with the black veil — stood by the window. Her hands rested on the sill, long fingers tipped with silver rings.
"You're awake," she said softly.
Her voice was ancient — not old, but timeless.
"Where am I?" My throat ached, the words scraping out like glass.
"Where all debts are collected," she said. "And all promises are made."
I tried to stand, but my legs trembled. My reflection in the polished floor caught my eye — and froze my blood.
That wasn't me.
The face staring back was beautiful in a way that frightened me. Pale skin, dark hair cascading in soft waves, and eyes — not green as before, but storm-gray, rimmed in silver. My lips were fuller, my cheekbones sharper. I touched my face with trembling fingers, half-expecting it to melt away.
"What did you do to me?" I whispered.
The woman turned then, her veil shifting in the pale moonlight. I couldn't see her eyes, only the curve of her mouth.
"I gave you a new beginning," she said. "A new body. A new name. But your soul…" She paused, a hint of something unreadable in her tone. "That still remembers the fire."
She came closer, and I saw the faint shimmer of runes glowing beneath her gloves. "You are Elara Voss now. Heiress to the Voss empire. You will walk among the living once more. But remember, Lyra Hale died that night. You must never speak her name again."
"Why me?" I demanded. "Why bring me back?"
She smiled — slow, knowing. "Because vengeance has a way of calling the dead."
Before I could speak again, she placed her hand over my heart. A burning mark seared into my skin — a symbol like two intertwined serpents. I gasped, clutching my chest as power surged through me, alive and ancient.
"When the time comes," she said, stepping back, "that mark will remind you of your purpose. Those who destroyed you will fall one by one. But power always comes with a price."
"What price?" I whispered.
Her veil fluttered as she turned away.
"Love," she said simply. "It always costs love."
Days passed — or maybe weeks. I lost track of time inside that vast mansion. Servants moved silently through the halls, never meeting my gaze. Every mirror was covered. Every clock ticked backward.
I learned my new name, my new past, my new fortune. The world believed Elara Voss had returned from months of disappearance after a tragic accident.
But I wasn't Elara.
Not really.
Inside, Lyra Hale was awake — waiting, watching, remembering.
It wasn't until the night of the first gala — a charity event in my honor — that I saw him again.
Adrian Hale.
He stood at the top of the grand staircase, the crowd parting around him like a tide. The same sharp jawline. The same piercing eyes. But older, colder, darker.
My heart stopped.
He was the man who killed me.
Or at least, he looked exactly like him.
Our eyes met across the room — a spark, a pull, a haunting recognition that burned through every nerve I had left. He tilted his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips, as if he knew me.
And for the first time since my rebirth, I wasn't sure who was haunting whom.