“I will never fall.”

The words mumbled from her mouth as she breathed heavily and struggled with every step she made. It wasn't over… It wouldn't be… as long as she could still stand.

Her body was mangled, strands of silver hair stuck to her bloodied face, her torn dress barely covering her wounded body, making her look half-dead.

But she forced herself forward.

Behind her, flames devoured the castle. Smoke covered the entire kingdom. Bodies of her clan lay scattered in pools of blood, and beasts slaughtered the last survivors mercilessly.

Never in her life had she imagined such a failure. She couldn't protect them.

Between her blurred vision, she looked at her castle. It had taken her years of crawling through blood to have what she had, only to fall in one day. Her fingers tightened around her staff with what little strength she had.

Her magic staff fell from her arms, and her eyes struggled to stay open. Her legs gave in, and she fell to the ground.

“Not yet.” Then her world went black.

“You are not Nalath!”

A growl too close to her ears shattered the silence.

Her eyes snapped open, and the wooden roof came into focus. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths while her face was drenched in sweat.

She jolted upright and moved her eyes around the room.

A small, cramped room filled with the stench of dust. Spider webs clung to every corner. A closet, a dressing table, and a bed.

This wasn't a battlefield.

Her trembling hands moved to her stomach, chest, and all the other places she remembered being torn open.

No wounds, no pain, not even a flicker of blood. It was as if the attack had never happened. How was she fine?

She remembered clearly, she had drained herself, too weak to summon any magic, even for healing. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.

And… she darted her eyes to the window where moonlight slipped in. Where was she?

She pushed herself from the floor and stumbled toward it. Standing there, she glanced outside.

People roamed around, too many for a village, yet too small for a town. She frowned. She couldn’t even sense any magic; it unsettled her. Had all her clan perished?

“Did you believe replacing her would grant you a new beginning?” The growl deepened. “This is your downfall.”

Immediately, she turned her head around the room. The voice was close, almost as if whispered in her ears. However, no one was there.

An invisibility spell?

“You are here. What did you do to Nalath?!”

Nalath?

“Show yourself,” she coldly ordered with warning. Her stance shifted, ready to face whoever the person was.

She waited for minutes, but the room was silent.

She uttered words to open her third eye, the one that helped her see what couldn’t be seen with normal ones. Only a gust of wind hit her, but nothing happened.

She remained as she was for seconds, trying to take in what had just happened. It couldn’t be…

Then she chanted another spell, then again and again. Nothing, now not even a flicker of wind.

She raised her trembling hands. She could feel how empty she was. Her magic was gone.

She, Radella, whose powers had given her the queen title, the strength that had taken her years to build, had been stripped of everything in the blink of an eye.

What happened to me?

If she didn’t know, she might have thought it was a matter of time and that soon her powers would return. But no, it felt like she didn’t even have a core to possess one.

Her heart raced. For a moment, she sunk in a world filled with darkness and alone. She fell to her knees, her fists tightened until they turned white.

“You’re not her. Witch… what have you done?”

The voice again. She moved her eyes sharply, expecting to see someone. She was sure of it. That voice knew what had happened to her and that, if she wasn’t responsible.

She rose to her feet and slowly paced around the room, searching for the source.

As she did, by chance, she walked near the dressing table. When she passed it, she froze and stared at the reflection.

Through the mirror, a petite girl stared back. Long, curly chestnut hair, wide light brown eyes, and golden-brown skin.

A cold chill ran through her. That wasn’t what she was supposed to see, unless the mirror was mistaken in reflecting whoever she was.

She scanned her body. She was wearing a plain, flowing white dress. Her frown deepened. Something wasn’t right. She felt strange in a way she couldn’t point out.

She raised her hands. They had somehow become slim and delicate. Her nails were pristine, not like the blackened ones damaged by dark magic.

What kind of spell was this? Hallucination? Disguise? Nothing made sense.

She touched a strand of hair, staring at it. Just like in the reflection, her hair was pale brown. Her forehead wrinkled in disbelief. What was she seeing?

She was still herself, she felt herself: the touch, her vision, what she heard and smelled but the face wasn’t hers.

She should have known something was wrong right after waking. As someone who pushed her body past its limits daily, she shouldn’t have felt that stiffness in her muscles.

Her teeth gritted, and she slammed her palm against the mirror with all her strength, cracking it. Blood streamed from her palm; still, through those red cracks, she could see that face.

“Who are you?” she asked, staring at it.

Then something clicked. If she was in someone else’s body… whose body did it belong to? And… where was she?

She drifted back to the window and stood there, staring ahead. It didn’t take a minute somewhere, on the road, something moved.

A massive beast, dog-like and covered in dark fur, casually walked down the street.

The creature’s predatory eyes scanned the surroundings. But no one screamed or ran, not even paying heed. Another one emerged from the corner, then two more.

Her stomach twisted and made two steps back. A pack.

No doubt, she stood in a werewolf den.