Mandara opened her eyes slowly, painfully, as if waking from a long, endless drowning.
The air around her was thick and cold. She lay on a bed of hard stone in a small, dark cave illuminated only by a faint violet glow seeping through cracks in the ceiling. The walls pulsed softly with veins of crystal-like roots, and in one corner sat a basket of fruits, strange shapes and colors she had never seen before.
Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten in what felt like ages. She tried to rise, but her limbs gave way, and she collapsed to her knees. Her hands trembled as she looked at them, small, clawed, and painted in dark blue. Her skin shimmered faintly under the glow, like shadow soaked in ink.
She stumbled to the edge of the cave wall and caught her reflection in a patch of smooth obsidian stone. A child stared back.
No, not a child. Something else.
She had the frame of a girl no older than ten, but her eyes… There were three of them. The third eye sat in the center of her forehead, half-lidded, barely open. Her ears were long and pointed, twitching at every sound. Her hair was tangled and black, coiled around her neck like a shroud. She wasn't human.
Suddenly, the narration halted. A voice echoed not from the cave, but from a place beyond stories.
"She is from another world?"Elara's voice."Then… there are other worlds? Who brought her here?"
A pause. Then the voice returned, dry and amused:
"The story is not yet complete, young soul. Why are you so quick with your questions?""Think carefully. You will not get many chances."
The wind within the cave stilled. And the story resumed.
Mandara gasped silently and backed away from the reflection.
The wooden door creaked open.
Instantly, instinct surged through her. Her back straightened. She dropped into a defensive crouch, hand reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. Old muscle memory guided her movements even in this new, unfamiliar body.
A figure stepped inside—a young boy, perhaps thirteen, eyes wide with disbelief. Behind him, an old man with a cane followed slowly, his face carved with lines of age and quiet sorrow. Several more figures filled the entrance, all with the same dark blue skin and three eyes—people like her.
The boy broke into a run. Mandara flinched but didn't move. He stopped in front of her and, to her surprise, embraced her tightly.
He wept.
"You returned… " he murmured between sobs, pressing his forehead to hers. "We thought you were lost forever."
The others bowed their heads, some whispering blessings, some crying openly.
Mandara stood frozen, unsure of who they saw in her.
She wanted to speak, but no words came. Her mouth opened, but her voice had been left behind in another life.
Overwhelmed, shaking, and her breath shallow, she stepped back. Her third eye pulsed softly—then everything went dark.
Mandara collapsed, unconscious once again.