DISCLAIMER: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.
It was way too bright the morning following the anniversary feast. The Hylde manor's master suite was flooded with sunlight, but it seemed cold, harsh, and hollow.
Giywon was already wearing his royal silks as he stood at the window. He was holding a tiny box that housed a ring, a plain band of gold that he had planned to present to Reinn at a quiet brunch. A nervous, youthful energy that he hadn't felt in years was pounding in his heart.
Giywon yelled, "Reinn? My sun, it's late," in a gentle, loving voice. "The academy students are already waiting at the gates for the morning address."
The sheets of silk rustled. With her golden hair falling over her shoulders like a torrent of honey, the woman on the bed gently sat up. Giywon felt a strong, visceral bolt of alarm as she gazed at him, yet her movements were smooth and feline as she stretched.
Her gaze. The light was gone, but it was the exact color. A flat, icy arrogance had taken the place of the warmth, the tiny squint of humor, and the "Samantha" behind the look.
"Students?" she inquired, her voice cutting like a silky razor. "Let them wait. Or better yet, send them home. I've decided I don't much care for the smell of commoners today."
Giywon stopped. "Reinn... what are you talking about? You spent six months building that curriculum."
She got out of bed and approached him with a wavering stance that seemed theatrical, like a predator imitating a girl. Her fingers trailed down Giywon's chest as she extended her hand, yet her touch seemed icy through his shirt.
"That was before, Giywon," she muttered, a sardonic smirk forming on her lips. "I was... unwell. Delusional. But I'm much better now. Tell me, where are my rubies? I find this silver dress utterly revolting."
With a careless flick of her wrist, she swept the crystal wildflowers that she had treasured for a year onto the floor as she strolled by him to the vanity. They broke with what sounded like a final scream.
"Reinn, stop!" Giywon grabbed her wrist. "What is wrong with you?"
The Prince's blood ran cold as she turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with a sudden, terrible wrath. The woman who fed him soup was not this one. This was the woman who used to yell at maids until they started crying.
"Don't touch me without permission, Crown Prince," she demanded. "And don't look at me with those pathetic, puppy-dog eyes. I am Reinn Hylde. And I am finally awake."
The View from the Other Side
Samantha was screaming in the vanity's mirror.
She was hitting the silver glass with her fists, but nothing came out. She saw the pale, scared expression on Giywon's face. On the ground, she could see the broken wildflowers. She could see the "Original Reinn" ridiculing the love she had put so much effort into, wearing her body like a stolen garment.
Samantha yelled, "Giywon, look at the mirror!" with a desperate tone in her voice. "It's me! I'm still here!"
Giywon's forehead furrowed in perplexity as he briefly glanced at the mirror. He briefly glimpsed a phantom of the lady he loved, her fingers pushed against the glass.
The woman in the room asked, "Giywon?" in a surprisingly charming yet cunning tone. "Is something wrong?"
Giywon narrowed his eyes as he turned to face her. He was a dragon, a prince, and a man who had studied every aspect of Reinn's soul for a year. He was unsure of how or why, but he was convinced of one thing.
The woman standing in front of him was a stranger.
Giywon lied, "Nothing is wrong," stepping back and speaking in a stiff, cold tone. "I'll inform the Duke that you are... indisposed. Excuse me."
With his hand shaking as he reached for the Star-Iron whistle Dyierrean had given Reinn, he virtually ran out of the room. Royal formality was no longer important to him. He needed the Wolf.
Giywon and Dyierrean met ten minutes later in the Academy grounds' secret alcove. Dyierrean's hair was wild, and his violet magic was dripping from his fingertips like smoke, giving the impression that he had sprinted all the way from the Mydril estate.
"You felt it too," Dyierrean didn't ask; he stated.
"She broke the flowers, Dyierrean," Giywon uttered in a trembling voice. "She looked at me like I was a bug she wanted to crush. The soul... It's gone. That thing in the manor isn't Reinn."
Dyierrean clutched his sword's hilt till the leather creaked. With homicidal determination in his dark gaze, he turned to face the manor.
"The 'Editor'... the man from the eclipse," Dyierrean whispered. "He told me once that every story has a reset point. He's brought back the original soul to reclaim the plot."
"Then we rewrite it again," Giywon snarled, his golden glow intensifying. "I don't care if we have to kill the 'Original' herself. I want my Reinn back."
"We can't kill her," Dyierrean murmured, lowering his voice to a menacing murmur. "If the body dies, Samantha dies with it. We have to find where she's hidden. We have to reach into the mirror."
Unbeknownst to both men, a single word emerged in the frost on a neighboring leaf behind them.
HELP.