"You say he's kind. But why do your eyes look so tired?"
Mama always said I was too soft. Maybe that's why I break in silence.
---
"What do you think about him?"
Mama's voice was calm — the kind of calm that carries warning under every word.
I sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, fingers tangled in my skirt. "He's... kind. And polite. But—"
Her eyes narrowed. "But what, Amara?"
I hesitated. "But... I don't see him that way."
The room turned colder.
Mama rose slowly from her seat like a storm rising from still water. "Again?" she snapped. "This is the third one. Ebuka is a good man from a good home. What is it this time — not tall enough? Not rich enough?"
"No," I said quickly. "That's not it. I just... I don't feel anything."
She scoffed. "You never feel anything! Every man I bring to you, you push away. You smile and lie and then come crying to me at night talking about feeling nothing."
I swallowed hard.
"I'm trying," I whispered. "But—"
"You don't get to 'but' me, Amara!"
"I'm your mother. I know what's best. And you will marry this one — do you understand me?"
Her words landed like slaps. Loud. Sharp. Final.
And something inside me — something long caged — cracked open.
"When I'm ready, I'll find someone I want. I won't marry someone just to be 'normal'!"
Her eyes widened. "What did you say?"
But I was already backing away. Shaking. Burning.
"Your word is not my future," I muttered, and turned.
Then I ran.
---
I didn't know where I was going. I didn't care.
The street blurred behind me. Houses passed like shadows. My chest ached. My vision swam.
My feet carried me beyond the estate gates, past the farms, into a part of the village no one talked about.
Into the trees.
The forest was old — twisted and dry, like something forgotten by time. People used to say spirits lived here. That those who entered alone never returned.
But I didn't care. I just wanted to disappear.
Branches snapped under my feet. My skirt caught on thorns. The world spun, then slowed, then—
I stopped.
There, between two crooked trees, stood a mirror.
But not like any mirror I'd ever seen.
No frame. No reflection. Just a surface like silver water, humming with soft light.
I stepped closer, breathing hard.
Then—
"Amara..."
I froze.
The voice was not my own, yet it felt like it belonged to me.
I reached out, trembling.
And the moment my fingers touched the glass—
Light exploded.
No sound. No ground. Just spinning, pulling, unmaking.
---
When I opened my eyes, I was lying in grass that glowed faintly in the moonlight — only the moon was purple. Two of them.
The sky was unfamiliar. The air was too soft. The silence was alive.
I sat up, heart racing.
And that's when I saw her.
A group of women in cloaks approached, but one stood apart. A tall, dark-skinned woman with a sword on her back and a quiet fire in her eyes.
She looked at me like she knew me. Like she'd waited for me.
"She has arrived," the woman said.
"The bondless one."