SAGE
I didn't think I would ever get used to it.
I stood before the mirror, unmoving, my reflection staring back at me with a calm confidence I possessed. The room was quiet, dawn creeping in slowly from the edges of the world, and still I couldn't look away.
The wardrobe had offered me only dresses—flowing and elegant, meant for bodies like this one. I wore one now, pale and soft, the fabric clinging in places it never used to, skimming curves I hadn't fully accepted as mine. My wig rested in my hands, familiar, grounding.
My real hair fell down my back in a long, silken cascade—white as snow, but no longer purely so. Gold threaded through it now, fine streaks catching the light whenever I moved, as though sunlight itself had decided to live there.
The same gold ringed my eyes, encircling the irises in a thin, unmistakable halo that marked me for what I was.
Ancient. Half Ancient, or thereabout.
