The dream didn't feel like a dream.
It felt like stepping into something she had forgotten—
But never truly lost.
—
Light.
Soft.
Golden.
Mau stood barefoot—not on dirt, not on bamboo—
But on polished marble.
The air smelled different.
Cleaner.
Colder.
Controlled.
She looked down.
Her hands—
Not stained with herbs.
Not roughened by work.
Soft.
Adorned.
A delicate bracelet circled her wrist.
Her breath caught.
"What—"
"Mau."
The voice was warm.
Familiar.
She turned.
A woman approached—elegant, graceful, wrapped in quiet luxury.
Her eyes softened the moment they landed on Mau.
"There you are," she said, brushing a strand of hair away from Mau's face. "You shouldn't wander off like that."
Mau's chest tightened.
"I… I'm sorry."
The words came out automatically.
Like she had said them before.
Many times.
The woman smiled. "It's alright. Come. Your lesson is about to begin."
Lesson?
Mau's feet moved without question.
The space around her shifted—
And suddenly—
Music.
A grand piano stood before her, gleaming under soft light.
A man waited beside it, posture straight, expression patient but expectant.
"You're late," he said.
Mau flinched slightly.
"…Sorry."
"Sit."
She obeyed.
Her hands hovered over the keys.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
"Play," he instructed.
Mau hesitated.
"I don't—"
"Yes, you do."
Her fingers lowered.
The first note echoed.
Clear.
Perfect.
Then another.
And another—
Until the room filled with music that felt too complex, too refined, too… practiced to belong to someone who had never learned.
Her heart raced.
I know this.
How do I know this?
"Good," the man said. "Again. With control this time."
The scene shifted.
Faster now.
A garden.
Open space.
Movement.
A different instructor—this one sharper, stricter.
"Again," he said.
Mau held a wooden blade.
Her stance—
Perfect.
Her body—
Ready.
"Do not hesitate," he snapped.
"I'm not—"
"Then prove it."
He attacked.
Mau moved.
Fluid.
Efficient.
Controlled.
Not wild.
Not reactive.
But trained.
Deliberate.
Her strike stopped just short of his throat.
Silence.
Then—
"Better."
Her breath came fast.
Not from effort.
But from realization.
This isn't new.
This is memory.
—
Another shift.
Fabric.
Mirrors.
Voices discussing cuts, textures, designs.
Mau stood in front of a mannequin, her hands adjusting fabric with instinctive precision.
"No," she murmured. "The line should fall here."
She moved the cloth slightly.
Perfect.
Someone behind her spoke.
"You have an eye for this."
Mau turned.
A man watched her with quiet approval.
"You don't just see beauty," he continued. "You understand structure."
Mau swallowed.
"…Thank you."
But her voice felt distant.
Because everything—
Everything felt like it belonged to someone else.
And yet—
To her.
—
The final shift came gently.
Almost kindly.
A room.
Warm.
Safe.
The same woman from before knelt in front of her.
"You are special, Mau," she said softly. "You must remember that."
Mau's chest tightened.
"I don't want to be special."
The woman smiled sadly.
"You don't have a choice."
Her hand brushed lightly beneath Mau's ear.
Right over the red mark.
"This," she whispered, "will guide you back to us."
Mau's breath hitched.
"To… where?"
But the woman's expression changed.
Faded.
Like something being pulled away.
"Mau—"
The voice distorted.
Distant.
"Mau—wake up."
—
Her eyes snapped open.
Darkness.
The hut.
The quiet crackle of dying embers.
Her breath came fast, uneven.
"Mau."
Tay Eming's voice.
Close.
Steady.
She sat up abruptly, her hand flying to the mark beneath her ear.
It was burning.
Not painfully.
But intensely.
Like something had just… awakened.
"I saw—" she started, then stopped.
Because how did she explain it?
How did she explain a life that felt real?
A family that felt—
Familiar?
Tay Eming watched her carefully.
"…You dreamed," he said.
Mau nodded slowly.
"But it didn't feel like a dream."
His gaze didn't waver.
"Some truths come that way."
Her fingers curled against her skin.
"…Tay," she whispered, voice trembling just slightly for the first time in a long while, "what if I'm not meant to be here?"
The question hung between them.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Tay Eming exhaled quietly.
Then, gently—
"You were never meant to stay."
Mau froze.
The words didn't hurt.
They didn't shock.
They just—
Confirmed something she had always known.
But never wanted to say.
Outside, the wind moved through the trees.
Not restless.
Not uncertain.
But certain.
Like something had finally found its direction.
And Mau—
For the first time—
Felt it too.