The night air was cool against my skin, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees as I stood in the training grounds, my mother watching me with her usual serene expression. The crystalline bow rested in my grip, its surface smooth and cool, reflecting the soft glow of the moonlight.
I took a slow breath, steadying myself as I pulled the bowstring back, feeling the tension in my arms. The standing targets lined up ahead of me seemed almost too still, too easy—yet, I knew better.
"Focus, Sera," my mother's voice drifted through the quiet night, calm and unwavering. "Your stance is good, but your mind is elsewhere. If you hesitate, even for a moment, your enemy will not wait for you to collect yourself."
I swallowed, adjusting my grip. She was right. My thoughts had been scattered, lingering on everything but the task at hand. I had spent so much time with daggers and fire that using a bow felt foreign—yet, oddly natural, as if something buried deep inside me recognized the motion.
Was it her again? The original Sera Vandren?
The thought sent a small shiver down my spine, but I shook it off.
I exhaled slowly, narrowing my eyes as I lined up my shot. The tension in my muscles coiled, the familiar hum of magic threading through me, sharpening my senses. Then—
I released.
The arrow shot forward, slicing cleanly through the air before embedding itself deep into the target's center with a satisfying thud.
"Good," Eleanor praised, a proud smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "How about we try something different?"
"Something different?" I echoed, lowering my bow slightly, my arms still tingling from the tension of my last shot.
Eleanor nodded, stepping forward with a graceful ease that only years of experience could grant. "Standing targets are fine for precision training, but in a real fight, your enemies won't simply wait for you to line up a perfect shot. They'll be moving, attacking, vanishing, reappearing—if you can't react fast enough, you'll be at a disadvantage."
I blinked, already feeling a little uneasy. "So, what exactly are you suggesting?"
Eleanor extended a hand, and in an instant, the field around us changed.
With a flick of her fingers, shimmering targets materialized in the air—some hovering just above the ground, others phasing in and out of visibility like ghosts. They swayed, twisted, and shifted unpredictably, darting between tree branches and vanishing into the darkness of the night.
I swallowed.
"These targets will move at random," she explained. "Some will disappear before you have the chance to strike. Others will require split-second precision. Your job? Hit as many as you can."
I let out a slow exhale, tightening my grip on the bow. "Alright. Sounds easy enough."
Eleanor smirked knowingly. "Is that so?"
Before I could ask what she meant, the targets began to move.
Fast.
Too fast.
My eyes barely had time to register their patterns before they flickered out of sight, only to reappear somewhere else. The first time I raised my bow, I hesitated—just for a second. That second was enough to lose three targets.
Tsk.
[Ice Arrow]
I whispered the incantation under my breath, and instantly, my arrow was coated in a thin layer of frost, shimmering in the moonlight. If I couldn't match their speed, then I would have to slow them down.
I released.
The first arrow struck true, piercing through a shifting target before it could vanish.
"Good," Eleanor praised. "But don't stop."
More appeared.
I fired again. And again. Each shot sharper, faster than the last. I missed a few, but I was adapting—predicting where they'd appear next, trusting my instincts rather than second-guessing.
It felt… natural.
It felt like I had done this before.
The realization hit me mid-shot, almost throwing off my focus. The original Sera Vandren—this was her skill. The way my hands moved without thinking, the way my mind mapped out the targets before they even appeared…
These memories, this talent—it was hers.
I sucked in a breath, releasing one final arrow.
Bullseye.
The last target shattered into shards of ice before fading into nothing, leaving behind only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.
Eleanor lowered her hand, the magic dissipating. She looked at me, eyes filled with something thoughtful. "You adapted quicker than I expected," she murmured, almost to herself.
I exhaled, lowering my bow, feeling my heartbeat steady. "Guess I'm a fast learner," I muttered.
Eleanor chuckled, crossing her arms. "Fast is an understatement." She studied me for a moment longer, then smiled. "That's enough for tonight. You've earned some rest."
I nodded, but deep down, I knew I wouldn't be sleeping easily tonight.
Not when the ghost of Sera Vandren's past still lingered in my mind.
Even as I tried to shake off the feeling, a nagging weight settled deep in my chest, one that refused to be ignored.
Later that night, after cleaning up from my training, I stood in front of the mirror in my room, studying my reflection with a strange expression.
Something felt… different.
I reached out, touching my toned arm, my fingers tracing along the defined muscles that hadn't been there before. My body had changed—more fit, stronger, and I was certain I had grown a little taller as well.
"Wow…" I muttered, tilting my head, unable to stop myself from admiring the shift.
In my previous life, I had been… well, a walking stick. A frail, overworked student buried in books and exams, running on caffeine and sheer stubbornness. But here? Here, I was different.
I was strong.
My hand trailed down, brushing over my collarbone, tracing the curve of my jaw. I was… well, definitely a beauty.
That thought alone was enough to make my face heat up in embarrassment. God, what was I even doing?
I sighed, shaking my head, about to turn away from the mirror—
And then the lights dimmed.
Or was it just my vision?
A strange sensation prickled at the back of my neck. The air in the room felt heavier, charged with something unseen. My reflection in the mirror began to blur, the edges distorting like ripples in water.
And then, I saw her.
Sera Vandren.
The original.
She stood behind me, her image perfectly clear in the mirror, watching me with an unreadable gaze. My breath caught in my throat.
Her eyes—my eyes—met mine, calm yet piercing, as if she were peering straight into my soul.
And then she moved.
Her hand—a real, solid hand—reached forward, fingers brushing along my jawline with an almost gentle touch. I felt it. The warmth of her skin.
She was real.
I spun around instantly—
And she was gone.
The room was normal. The lights were steady. The air was still.
I was alone.
Heart hammering, I turned back to the mirror, my pulse thundering in my ears. My own reflection stared back at me—only mine. No trace of her.
I took a step back, clutching my arms.
"What the hell…?" I whispered.
Had I imagined it? Or…
Was she truly still here?
"Of course, I'm here," came the familiar, honey-smooth voice from outside the bathroom.
My stomach dropped.
I turned sharply, heart pounding in my chest, and stepped out of the bathroom—only to freeze in place.
There she was.
Sera Vandren.
The original.
Sitting on my bed—our bed—like she belonged there, draped in a silky black gown that shimmered under the dim candlelight. The fabric clung to her figure, slipping off one shoulder slightly, as if she had just settled in for the night.
She looked up at me, amusement twinkling in her too-familiar blue eyes.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
I took a deep breath, rubbing my temples. This isn't real. This isn't happening.
"Jeez, I must really be lacking sleep these days," I muttered under my breath, half hoping that if I ignored her long enough, she'd disappear.
She didn't.
Instead, she chuckled—a soft, rich sound that sent an eerie chill down my spine.
"You wish that was true, Chloe," she said, leaning back against the pillows, watching me like a cat amused by its prey. "So? How did you like my gift?"
I blinked. Her gift?
Then it hit me.
The memories. The magic. The instinctive mastery of fire and ice, of archery, of skills that had never been mine.
"My world of magical knowledge, my talent with the bow—" she gestured lazily with one hand, "—they're all yours now."
I swallowed, shifting my stance.
"...It's useful," I admitted, cautiously. "Thank you."
What else was I supposed to say?
'Hey, thanks for dumping a lifetime of combat knowledge into my head, but also, what the hell are you doing haunting me?'
But if she picked up on my sarcasm, she didn't show it.
Her smirk widened. "Oh? So polite. How unlike you."
I frowned. "You don't even know me."
Sera tilted her head, tapping a finger to her temple.
"I can read your mind, you know."
I stiffened.
"What?"
She let out a slow, knowing hum. "Did you forget? We're practically the same person."
A sharp chill crawled down my spine.
The same person? No, we weren't. We were not the same.
I opened my mouth to argue, to deny her claim, but the look in her eyes stopped me cold.
Because for the briefest second, in the flickering candlelight—
I saw my own reflection staring back at me.