~~~
The air was cooler, touched by a gentle breeze that rustled the hanging vines and stirred the lantern flames scattered along the citadel paths. The moon was full, casting a silver glow across the dark stone walls and illuminating the sprawling gardens carved within the fortress. Though the Underworld was a place of shadows and mystique, this small oasis shimmered like a memory of a forgotten spring.
Hazel walked slowly, her slippers brushing along the black-marble pathway. Beside her, Miriam strolled in quiet step, hands tucked into the folds of her apron. Neither spoke. The silence was comfortable, contemplative.
It had been two days since the confrontation with the mistresses, and the bruises on Hazel's shoulder had only just faded, thanks to Alyssa's herb.
Hades had grown noticeably warmer—softer glances, gentle gestures, even a protective presence that followed her like a shadow. Still, beneath all that comfort and budding tenderness, something inside Hazel twisted restlessly.
"You walk like someone with a heavy heart," Miriam said at last, her voice soft but sure.
Hazel looked at her, brow raised. "Do I?"
"You wear your thoughts on your face, My lady Hazel. Always have."
Hazel smiled. "You've started calling me that less and less."
Miriam blushed. "You told me to stop being so formal. And after what we've been through, it feels strange to speak to you like a stranger."
Hazel chuckled lightly, the sound echoing off the stone hedges. "I'm glad. I don't want you to treat me like royalty. Not really."
"I never did think of you as one," Miriam said, half-teasing. "Not even when we first arrived."
Hazel turned to her, feigning offense. "Oh? I'll have you know I've perfected the royal pout."
They shared a laugh, one that lightened the tension Hazel hadn't even realized she'd been carrying. After a few moments, the path curved and opened into a quiet alcove—a stone bench nestled beneath a flowering nightbloom tree. Its petals glowed faintly under the moonlight, silver and violet.
"Let's sit a moment," Hazel offered.
Miriam nodded, and they both lowered themselves onto the bench. The soft chirp of underworld crickets filled the air, along with the rustle of leaves overhead.
They sat in silence again until Miriam exhaled, long and weary.
"I've never seen flowers like this before," she murmured, brushing a finger along the edge of a glowing petal.
"Do you like them?"
"They're beautiful," Miriam said. "But everything here is so... strange. Beautiful, but strange. It doesn't feel like home. It never will."
Hazel glanced at her. The dim light highlighted Miriam's profile—young, but weathered by grief and hardship.
"Do you miss your home?" Hazel asked.
Miriam's throat moved in a swallow. She gave a small nod. "Every day. Even if there wasn't much to miss."
Hazel turned her body to face her. "Tell me."
Miriam looked down at her hands, twisting them nervously. "It's not a story worth retelling."
"Please," Hazel said gently. "I want to know who you are."
Miriam hesitated. Then slowly, she began.
"My family... we were farmers in the outer rim of Aetheria. Not much land, just a patch of dry soil that my father swore would one day bloom. It never did. Seasons passed, and crops failed. My brothers were too young to help. My mother fell sick. One winter, we didn't have enough food. I watched my baby sister die in my mother's arms. She was only two."
Hazel felt her heart tighten.
"My mother followed her not long after. My father... he tried to hold on. But starvation takes more than your strength—it steals your hope. He sold me to a traveling merchant, hoping I'd survive, maybe serve in a noble house, find food. I never saw him again."
Miriam's eyes shimmered, but she didn't cry. Her voice was too hollow for tears.
"They called me lucky when I ended up in the palace, working as a maid. But luck is just suffering in disguise, sometimes. Still... I'm alive. And now I'm here."
Hazel placed a hand over hers. "You deserved better."
"So did you," Miriam replied, turning to her. "No princess should be passed around like cattle."
Hazel flinched slightly. "I'm not a real princess."
Miriam blinked. "What?"
Hazel sat up straighter, suddenly aware of the weight she was about to release. Her heart thudded.
"I've been meaning to tell you this for a while. I just... didn't know if you'd believe me."
Miriam gave a weak smile. "After seeing men shift into wolves and witches rain arrows from the sky? Try me."
Hazel gave a nervous laugh. "Fair enough." She took a deep breath. "I'm not Princess Hazel. Not the one born in Aetheria."
Miriam tilted her head. "Then who are you?"
"My name is Ariana. I came from... another world. A different realm. One where magic doesn't exist, and demons are fairy tales. I was just a regular girl. I woke up in Hazel's body one day. I don't know why. I don't know how."
Miriam stared at her. "You're serious."
Hazel nodded. "I swear it."
Miriam blinked, and for a moment, Hazel feared she would pull away. But instead, Miriam whispered, "Show me."
Hazel hesitated, then pulled out a small item tucked beneath her corset—something she'd kept hidden from the day she arrived: a silver earring shaped like a star, clearly modern, from her old world. She also recited a few phrases in her native language—phrases Miriam wouldn't recognize at all.
"This is from my world. We wear these. Speak like this. Use things like... glass screens and carriages that move on their own."
Miriam took the earring, examining it. "It's... strange. Not like anything from our lands."
"I used to live in a place with tall buildings, loud noises, food you could buy with pieces of paper."
"Are you saying you're... possessing her body?" Miriam asked slowly.
"I don't know what to call it," Hazel—Ariana—replied. "All I know is... I'm not her. But I feel her. Sometimes I dream of things I never lived. Feel things I can't explain."
Miriam was quiet for a long time. Then, to Hazel's surprise, she reached out and hugged her.
Hazel stiffened, then melted into the embrace.
"You're still you," Miriam whispered. "Whatever world you came from... you're still the one who saved me. Who spoke to me like I mattered. Who stood up to the mistresses and yelled at a king like he was a stable boy."
Hazel laughed shakily.
Miriam pulled back. "It doesn't change anything. Except maybe one thing."
"What?"
"I trust you more now."
Hazel's eyes welled. "You're not afraid?"
"Oh, I'm terrified," Miriam grinned. "But I've seen worse. Besides... if you're not from here, maybe you're the only one who can change this world."
They sat together, stars overhead, hands intertwined between them.
From that night on, their bond was unbreakable.
And for the first time since arriving in the Underworld, Ariana—felt a little less alone.
Later That Night
Back in her chambers, Hazel stood before the polished obsidian mirror. Maybe she wasn't the real Hazel. Maybe she didn't belong here.
But she had someone now. And in a realm full of lies, that kind of truth was rare.
Hazel turned away from the mirror and let the curtain fall, cloaking her reflection in shadow.
Tomorrow, she'd continue pretending.
But tonight, she would hold on to Miriam's words—and the fragile spark of hope they brought.