The first thing she felt was cold-not the sharp kind, but strange. Like waking from a long winter's dream into unfamiliar spring air. Her skin prickled beneath soft linen sheets, and sunlight poured across the painted ceiling above her-blue sky and wildflowers brushing against ivory trim.
She blinked.
The ceiling felt too high. The bed is too big. The room smelled like lavender, like sun-warmed linens and polished wood. Everything was neat, quiet, almost dreamlike.
She sat up abruptly.
The sheets rustled around her. Her breath quickened. She looked around the unfamiliar room, heart thudding like a distant drum. Something inside her buzzed with unease-not fear exactly, but something colder, emptier.
Where was she?
Where was this?
She didn't remember. Not this bed. Not the room. Not even herself.
The door creaked open, and a woman in a maid's uniform hurried in, carrying a tray. She froze the instant her eyes landed on the girl sitting upright.
"Young Lady Riley! Oh, Stars-you're awake!" the woman gasped, nearly dropping the tray. "Young Lady, you're-oh, thank the heavens!"
She rushed to her side, kneeling beside the bed with trembling hands. Her face was round and weathered, streaked with worry. But her eyes were bright with something else-relief. Fierce, tearful relief.
"...Riley?" the girl repeated uncertainly. Her voice felt thin and strange in her throat. "Is that... my name?"
The woman's expression faltered just for a moment. Then she softened, cupping the girl's hand gently in hers.
"You don't remember?" she asked.
The girl hesitated. "I... don't remember anything."
A quiet sigh escaped the woman, full of tenderness.
"Your name is Vyrilleya Vreisz," she said softly. "But everyone in this mansion calls you Riley, sweetling. You are the only daughter of Vreisz Viscounty. This is your home."
Vyrilleya Vreisz.
The name rolled through her mind like marbles in a glass jar. It sounded... elegant. Important. But distant. She turned it over on her tongue and found no comfort in it.
The woman wiped her eyes with the hem of her sleeve and stood. "I must fetch the Lord and Lady. They'll want to see you immediately."
Before the girl could ask another question, the woman was gone. The door clicked shut behind her, and the room was silent once more.
She sat still, legs curled beneath her, listening to the quiet. She should've felt comforted, maybe even curious.
But instead, she felt hollow.
Vyrilleya Vreisz.
She whispered the name to herself.
She slid out of bed, bare feet brushing against cool marble. The room was too elegant, too immaculate. Pale gold walls and silver-framed mirrors. Tall bookshelves. A dainty desk by the window. The kind of place she should remember, if it truly belonged to her.
She trailed her fingers along the furniture, looking for something-anything-that might stir her memory. A perfume bottle. A flower-pressed journal. A porcelain box shaped like a swan. Nothing.
She crossed to the bookshelves and pulled down a small leather-bound book. Inside were rows of handwritten entries, neat and slanted. Poetry. Garden notes. Descriptions of seasonal blossoms. Every word was lovely, but none sparked anything familiar.
Then, near the corner of the room, she found it: a tall mirror framed in carved ivory and roses.
She stepped in front of it, breath caught in her chest.
The girl who looked back had long, straight purple hair, deep as twilight. Her skin was pale, almost translucent in the morning light. Her face was delicate-soft jaw, thin brows, lips tinged rose. She looked... fragile. Doll-like.
And yet...
Her left eye shimmered.
Just a flicker. A faint glint of scarlet blooming like fire beneath the lilac iris. Only in that one eye. It vanished if she looked too closely, only to reappear in the corner of her vision like a ghost hiding in glass.
She leaned closer.
That flicker didn't belong to the rest of her. It felt like something older. Something deeper.
The longer she stared, the more certain she became that it wasn't normal.
"Vyrilleya," she whispered, watching her mouth form the word. "Who are you exactly?"
Not long after, both doors to her bedroom swung open loudly. A pair of adults entered, followed by the same maid from before.
One was a man with neatly styled brown hair and soft green eyes. He looked at the girl with an expression she couldn't quite name-relief, sadness, confusion, affection. All at once.
The woman beside him had styled purple hair, elegant and pinned up like a typical noble lady. She approached and knelt before the girl, her eyes soft and worried.
"Are you hurt anywhere, darling?"
The resemblance between them made the girl pause. The man stepped closer too, his gaze full of something she couldn't place.
She stared at them for a long moment before gently shaking her head. "No. Nothing hurts."
Both adults sighed in visible relief. The man knelt beside the woman and looked her straight in the eyes. She felt warmth in his gaze-genuine, familiar, distant.
"I hear you don't remember anything. Not even your name?"
The girl nodded. "I'm sorry."
The man placed a gentle hand on her head. "What is there to be sorry for, sweetheart? We're just glad to see you safe."
"Sven is right," the woman added quickly. "You don't know how worried we were. You were gone for three days, and when we found you unconscious, you didn't wake for two more."
The girl blinked. Gone? Missing? That felt... familiar, somehow. Like hearing a story she once knew.
"We still don't know what happened," Sven said quietly. "But the knights found you alone, near the forest ridge. There were signs of a struggle, but no other traces. You were unharmed-physically, at least."
The woman pressed her hand to her lips. "We feared the worst."
A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the breeze fluttering through the window curtains.
"Ah, you still need rest. We won't overwhelm you." The woman stood, brushing her skirts. The man followed.
"Just call for Nanny Collins or for us if you need anything," she said gently.
The girl nodded again. The man patted her head once more before stepping back.
"It may feel strange now," he said, "but this is your home."
Silence crept in after they left.
Still unfamiliar with everything, the girl glanced at the mirror one last time before returning to her bed. Her fingers brushed the sheets slowly, thoughtfully.
She let her head fall back against the pillows, eyes lingering on the painted sky above her.
"Vyrilleya Vreisz," she murmured.
Then, barely above a whisper-even to her own ears-she continued with words that seemed to come from somewhere else, from a place even her memory couldn't reach:
"At least you have a good family here."