"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 hides a warning beneath every word.
I sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, fingers twisted 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."
Her laugh was short, sharp, with no trace of humor.
"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 about feeling nothing. Hope you are not thinking of what I forbid, Amara. God forbid."
Her words pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.
"I'm trying," I whispered. "But—"
"You don't get to but me, Amara!"
Her voice cracked like a whip. "I'm your mother. I know what's best. And you will marry this one — do you understand me?"
The words struck like slaps. Loud. Sharp. Final.
And something inside me — something caged for too long — cracked open.
"When I'm ready, I'll find someone I want," I blurted. "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 then I ran.
---
I didn't know where I was going. I didn't care.
The streets blurred. Houses passed like shadows. My chest ached, my vision swam.
My feet carried me beyond the estate gates, past the farms, into the part of the village no one spoke of.
Into the trees.
The forest was old — twisted and dry, like something forgotten by time. People whispered that spirits lived here. That those who entered alone never returned.
But I didn't care. I just wanted to disappear.
Branches snapped beneath my feet. My skirt snagged on thorns. The world spun, then slowed, then—
I stopped.
Between two crooked trees stood a mirror.
But not like any mirror I'd ever seen.
No frame. No glass. Just a surface like silver water, humming with soft light.
I stepped closer, breath unsteady. My reflection wavered, then vanished.
"Amara…"
I froze.
The voice was not mine, yet it felt like it belonged to me.
A cold shiver slid down my spine. My heart lurched.
"How do you know my name?" I whispered.
No answer. Only a faint ripple across the surface, as if the mirror were laughing without sound.
My hand hovered, trembling. Then, against every instinct, I touched it.
Light exploded. No sound. No ground. Just spinning. Pulling. Unmaking.
---
When I opened my eyes, I was lying in grass that glowed faintly under the moonlight.
Only… the moon was purple. And there were two of them.
The sky was strange. The air too soft. The silence alive.
I sat up, heart hammering.
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 quiet fire in her eyes.
She looked at me like she knew me. Like she had been waiting.
"She has arrived," the woman said.
"The bondless one."