Again
Elowen gasped.
Cold air filled her lungs.
She stumbled backward.
The wooden door in front of her creaked open.
Her mother stood in the doorway.
The same gray morning light.
The same villagers gathering in the distance.
The same bag lying at her feet.
"Take your things," Maris Vale said quietly.
Elowen's heart slammed against her ribs.
No.
No.
That wasn't possible.
Her hands trembled violently.
She looked down at her body.
No blood.
No wound.
But she remembered the sword.
The sound.
The darkness.
"Mo-," she mumbled automatically.
The words slipped out, hands reaching out before she could stop them.
Exactly the same words scenario.
Her stomach twisted.
Every moment was repeating.
The whispers began again behind her.
The villagers murmuring the same accusations.
The same fearful glances.
Her mother's voice followed the exact same pattern.
"Since the day you were born, misfortune has followed this house."
Elowen's breathing grew shallow.
She knew what would happen next.
She knew every word.
Every movement.
Every second.
Her mother stepped back.
"Leave."
The door slammed shut.
The lock turned.
This time she didn't, hoping for her Mother opens the door for her.
Elowen stood frozen in the cross road.
The world continued exactly as it had before.
The wind moved through the trees.
The villagers slowly dispersed.
But something had changed.
Her.
She remembered dying.
Her hands started shaking again.
Far away, over the hills…
War horns began to sound.
Elowen whispered to herself in disbelief.
"…This already happened."
And somewhere deep in her chest, a terrifying realization began to form.
If she had died once…
And now she was back here again…
Then the question wasn't what just happened.
The question was far worse.
How many times would it happen again?