That wasn't her.
The woman staring back had blonde hair, pale and tangled like someone who hadn't slept in days.
Deep stress lines carved across her forehead, and faint wrinkles clung beneath her eyes—eyes that weren't bronze at all.
They were sharp.
Cold.
Furious.
The reflection didn't mimic Moriana's face.It glared straight at her.
Moriana's lips twitched. A thin breath escaped her throat.
"Mori?" Yulia's voice softened. "don't be scared. It is a little bit bitter but You'll..... "
But Yulia's voice was far from Moriana's head who was consumed with the image before it.
The reflection's mouth moved before her eyes.
Not with a smile.
With a snarl.
Her eyes widened as the reflection leaned closer to the surface… closer than a reflection should ever be able to move… its expression twisting into something feral, accusatory— like a warning.
Yulia didn't hesitate.
She stepped forward, cupped both hands around Moriana's cheeks, and slapped them—not hard, but firm enough to snap the moment.
A sharp sting bloomed across Moriana's skin.The angry blonde reflection vanished instantly, dissolving like smoke ripped away by wind.
Moriana blinked, wincing. Her hands flew to her burning cheeks, fingertips brushing the faint heat left behind.No words came out—just a shaky breath she couldn't steady.
"stop thinking about anything right now," Yulia said, her tone low but anchored."You just woke up from a long collapse. Your mind's still unstable."
Moriana didn't answer. Her lashes fluttered, eyes still unfocused, chest rising and falling too fast.
Yulia reached for the bowl again, lifting it slowly toward her.
"Focus on resting first," she murmured. "Come on… drink this. It'll help with the headache."
Moriana's gulps echoed louder than they should've in the quiet room.She swallowed the medicine with a tight wince, her eyes squeezing shut at the bitter sting that coated her tongue.
Yulia lifted the cup again.Moriana let out a tired breath, took it, and drank a second time—her brows pinching together.
"It tastes… awful," she muttered, voice still shaky from earlier.
Yulia dragged a small wooden stool beside the bed and sat down, smoothing her dress as she settled.
"You'll forgive the flavor once the pain settles."
Moriana buried half her face into the pillow, trying to rub the bitterness off her tongue with her teeth.
Yulia glanced down at liquid in the bowl. Her reflection trembled in it—pale, stretched, unfamiliar.
"It's from Willow Wood," she said, almost absently. "I brewed it in Mimirvale years ago. For some reason… it works wonders for pain and fevers."
Moriana let out a long, tired exhale."Such persistence. I guess that's just who you are."
Yulia's lips curved. Not into a full smile—just a soft one, the kind she used when she was relieved but pretending not to be.
Moriana forced herself to meet her eyes. The panic hadn't completely left her face. But she smiled anyway.
A few seconds of fragile silence passed between them… until Moriana spoke again, quieter this time, as if testing her own voice.
"Yuli… are you really okay? You look like a ghost."
Yulia rested the wooden bowl on her lap, her eyes following the thin ribbons of steam as they curled upward.She forced a small sigh."What do you expect after a year of Vida's cooking and the life in Val—"
"Yuli, I'm serious." Moriana cut her off, her voice sharper than she intended."When you hugged me… your body felt cold. And your face—it's too pale. This isn't normal."
Yulia gaze drifted to the widow across them."I really don't know. Lately… I've been tired all the time. Everything feels heavier than it should."
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and avoided her eyes."Don't worry about me right now. You just woke up. Focus on getting better. then you take good care of me."
Yulia ended her sentence with a tired wink.
The next two weeks were miserable. Every day, Moriana struggled with her weak body, losing patience little by little.
She had to rely on Vida for even the most basic needs, a fresh indignity to suffer each morning.
Yulia, for her part, supplied a steady stream of bitter tonics and restorative broths designed to ease the pain and mend her broken body.
Gord took it upon himself to feed her in the early days after his return from Skaldvinn.
Hyran and Zarius teased her nonstop, joking and betting on how far she could walk before stumbling.
From afar, behind a tree trunk in the courtyard of the Inn they stayed in, a shy, watchful gaze peered in through the open door behind the group. A steady voice slipped out, a clear echo of last night:
"Mom."