The ten-year-old girl awoke with silky blond hair and clear blue eyes like the sky. She opened her eyes slowly, only to find her beautiful mother beside her—someone who resembled her somewhat, but… suddenly the little girl felt a wave of terror and screamed:
"Weren't you dead?! I killed you with my own hands… did you come back to take revenge on me?!"
The mother looked at her terrified daughter, her heart filling with sorrow and deep worry. The little girl lay there on her bed, trembling. The mother spoke with a pained voice:
"My child… are you alright? Did you have a nightmare…?"
But as the mother reached out to place her hand gently on the girl's head, the latter slapped her hand away in a reaction her mother had never seen before. She spat with anger mixed with hatred:
"Don't touch me! Stay away from me!"
The mother felt a sting in her heart, but she smiled softly and said with all the tenderness she could gather:
"My little one… don't worry. I promise I won't touch you without your permission. Just… don't hate this poor mother. I'm heartbroken over your sudden illness. Only three days ago you, your little sister, your father and I were all playing together…"
The girl froze at her mother's words. She blinked rapidly, then jumped out of bed and hurried toward the large mirror—only for the greatest shock to strike her.
Yes… that child was our protagonist, Anastasia.
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Anastasia POV
What in the world… impossible! Did I go back in time? No, that can't be. If I really had, this woman wouldn't be treating me like this.
I looked back at those worried eyes. I truly don't feel alright. What is happening? Could everything I went through be just a dream?
My feelings are a mess—fear tangled with anger.
What?
I'm… scared. My hands are shaking… I really want to cry. Fine, I actually broke down crying.
The moment she hugged me and asked if I was alright, I could feel how genuinely worried she was. As soon as she pulled me into her arms, a warm softness seeped into every corner of my little body. I melted completely between her arms. Is this… what a mother's affection feels like?
Without realizing it, I fell asleep in her precious embrace.
If this is a dream… I never want to wake up.
End Anastasia POV
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Anastasia woke the next morning after a peaceful night in her mother's arms. She found the maids waiting to help her wash and change. She watched her reflection in the mirror with a soft smile—until sudden knocking interrupted her.
The knocks were tiny, probably from a small hand. The door opened just a little, revealing half of a small face—a girl of eight, with brown hair and green eyes shining like emeralds. She asked gently:
"May I come in, sister?"
Anastasia's smile widened. She nodded, and the little doll-like girl rushed toward her and hugged her tightly.
"I'm so glad you're okay, Ani! I missed you so much. I thought I wouldn't see you again."
"That's impossible, sweetheart. I would never leave you—not even if death had its claws on me."
"Ani… don't say things like that. If you ever disappear… I'll… I'll cry."
Tears welled in the little girl's eyes. She was still so delicate, so easy to move to tears. Anastasia placed her hand gently on her little angel's head and said with pure emotion:
"Don't cry, little one… your tears are precious to me. I'll stay with you no matter what."
She wiped her sister's cheeks. Olivia looked up at her and raised her tiny pinky finger:
"Promise me then."
Anastasia hooked her own pinky with Olivia's, sealing the promise.
"I promise. Whatever happens, I'll always stay by your side."
Joy bloomed on Olivia's face, as though that promise breathed life back into her.
The sisters headed outside to the garden, where breakfast awaited them—Queen Mary and Emperor Gustav sitting at a beautifully decorated table with all of Anastasia's favorite dishes. She wasn't used to such warmth, but with time, she tried to embrace it.
Days passed quickly, filled with laughter and warmth. One day, the royal family went for a walk near the hunting forest. While the parents sat together, chatting peacefully, the two sisters played catch. For a moment, Anastasia used her magic instinctively, sending the ball flying deep into the trees.
"My goodness… I'm so sorry. I must have focused too much power on it."
"It's fine, sister. I'll get it."
"No, sweetheart. I'm the older sister. I'm responsible for you. And besides, it was my fault the ball flew that far."
Olivia nodded. Anastasia walked into the forest and searched for the ball, but it was nowhere in sight. Eventually, she found it near a giant, eerie tree radiating a dark aura with a strange smell. She approached it, placed her hand on its trunk—and suddenly she heard distorted whispers:
You… life… imagining… happy…
She jerked her hand away.
The aura vanished instantly.
"Was… was I imagining things?"
She picked up the ball and hurried back to her parents.
"Mother, Father… I think that forest is cursed!"
"What are you saying, dear? What curse?"
"I'm serious! I found a huge creepy tree… and it whispered strange words!"
"Oh dear… it seems our little Anastasia hasn't fully recovered yet."
"What?! I'm perfectly fine!"
Queen Mary pulled Anastasia into a worried embrace:
"Oh my precious girl, you're still ill… I'm so worried about you, my only daughter."
"Your… only daughter? What are you talking about, Mother? Let me go! Why won't you believe me?!"
Anastasia pushed her mother away and turned to call for Olivia—only to realize she was gone.
She searched frantically.
"Mother, Father! Did you see Olivia? Where did she go?"
"Olivia? Who's that? Your doll?"
"What doll?! She's my sister! Your daughter!"
"Anastasia… I think we should call a priest soon. You must be possessed."
Anastasia grabbed her father's collar in rage, her voice erupting like a volcano:
"You're calling me crazy?! You don't believe the forest part, and now you say I'm possessed because I'm looking for my sister—your daughter!"
"Anastasia Violetta!"
Her body froze. That voice—her mother's voice—the one she spent her whole life fearing. Suddenly, everything twisted.
Their faces turned blank. Her mother grabbed her by the throat and began choking her. Anastasia screamed, the scene shattered, and she fell into a cold, endless void.
The whispers from the tree echoed again.
Her skin turned pale as a ghost. Her eyes widened unnaturally, shining with terror. Her breaths were shallow and rapid. Her hands trembled violently, trying to cling to anything for safety. Her whole body was stiff, expecting an attack at any moment. Cold sweat dripped from her forehead, sliding down her cheeks. Her voice was broken, barely forming words. Every sound made her flinch, as though the whole world had become a deadly trap.
A figure approached her—a girl older than her.
Anastasia stumbled back in fear. The girl spoke in a cold voice:
"I told you… you're imagining things. Happiness is impossible for you. All of this is nothing but buried desire."
It was a girl's voice.
Anastasia spoke, her voice trembling:
"Who… who are you? Show yourself!"
The girl stepped into view, revealing her face—and the shock hit like lightning.
It was… her.
The older version of her.
"You… you're me?! How?!"
"Did you not understand yet? Everything you lived here was an illusion. Our life was hell since childhood. And you forgot—we're cursed. Happiness will never be ours. That's the truth."
"I refuse to believe that. I'll change everything. I'll break the curse."
"Oh little one… did you forget what we did at Olivia's coming-of-age ball? Let me refresh your memory."
With a snap of her fingers, the black void turned into the imperial ballroom on the night of the massacre.
The walls gleamed with a deep wine-red sheen—blood.
Bodies. Screams. Shadows.
Young Anastasia trembled as she remembered everything.
The older Anastasia placed her hands on her younger self's shoulders, bending close, whispering mockingly:
"See your truth? You can't run from this curse. We were born with murder in our veins. Our magic only brings ruin to those we love."
"That's not true!"
"Deny it all you like. This power will consume you. You'll lose everything."
Young Anastasia clenched her teeth, fighting tears and panic.
"Shut up! I told you it's not true! I'll fix this curse! I'll protect everyone!"
The older one laughed, snapping her fingers and dragging them back to the dark void.
"How pitiful. You should've accepted your fate. Whether you protect them or fail, you'll die anyway. You're cursed, and you can't escape destiny."
Anastasia covered her ears, screaming, memories crushing her from every direction. She grabbed a sword that appeared nearby and swung it wildly:
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut your mouth, you monster!"
With one final strike, the older version dissolved, smiling, whispering:
"Wake up… cursed girl."
Anastasia screamed.
A blinding white light appeared ahead.
She ran toward it like someone drowning:
"I'm not cursed! Do you hear me?! I'm not cursed!"
She woke with a gasp, tears staining her cheeks. She held her head, panting:
"What… what was that?"
She looked around. She was in an old room with a slanted ceiling draped in soft cloth, a large triangular window letting in natural light. Tall bookshelves covered the walls, crammed with volumes. In the center, a bed with a patterned blanket—where she had been sleeping.
Her eyes fell on a small mirror on a shelf. She rushed to grab it.
"I look my real age… so it was just a nightmare. But it felt so real."
While she checked her surroundings, she heard footsteps approaching the door. She grabbed the broom beside it and stood ready to attack. When a man opened the door, she lunged at him. He dodged with surprising skill. She cast a spell—but he countered it with a magical circle, nullifying her attack. Shock hit her.
How did he know such magic? His mana felt powerful.
Her voice sharpened:
"Who are you? And what is this place?"
"My lady, I'm not an enemy. Please, calm down."
"And how am I supposed to believe that?"
"Because… I know who you are."