I drifted in an empty space, just as I once had before. My thoughts were free from shackles and all the heavy stones that had weighed down my heart.
I knew nothing. Neither who I was now, undergoing metamorphoses that at times felt excruciating—sharpening my sight, hearing, and smell—and at other times subsided, never allowing me to truly grow accustomed to any state. I could rely neither on myself nor on anyone else, for those around me continued to weave intricate webs of intrigue, pursuing their own goals unknown to me.
I wished I could choose myself—my future and the kind of person I would become—but unlike my peers, my path was littered with far too many obstacles. Like trials, they rose before me, stripping me of the fragile hope I so desperately needed.
The image of a magnificent wolf came to mind—the form my father had taken. Lean, with a sleek, glossy coat, he stood before me brimming with a spirit that radiated strength, while I felt weak and defenseless. I longed for even a fraction of what he had—a measure of courage or perhaps faith in myself. But how could I rely on myself, seeing grief-crazed vampires locked in battle with my family? What did I have to stand against marble-hard muscles and sharp fangs, ready to strike at the first opportunity and drain the drink of life—to take from another what was theirs by birthright?
Freedom was a privilege to be earned, defending every inch of space in a crowd of others just as hungry for a place under the sun. But where did I fit in? Did I even want to become part of the unknown underbelly of a world filled with mythical creatures and magic? I could barely manage an ordinary life, often drawing close to and trusting the wrong people. What could be said about more complex matters—like getting into university? It seemed everyone else knew exactly which path to take, but not me. I was stuck at a crossroads with no signposts.
Advice from others didn't help. Quite the opposite—they only made me more confused. They all insisted that once I transformed for the first time, I would finally understand everything, for I would have something to compare it to. But what if I once stepped onto the path of shapeshifting and there was no way back? What if the metamorphosis turned out to be irreversible for me, and I became stuck, like others who had rejected the gift?
"Accept what is destined for you," whispered Kaandor.
"But I don't know how."
"Just trust yourself."
Out of nowhere, in the darkness, appeared the outlines of two forged mirrors. On one of them, at the top of a frame tinged with noble silver, a dark tarnish had formed over long centuries. In the ornament of the crest, a wolf's head was carved, with the same amber eyes as Kaandor's. The other mirror looked newer, its polished patterns gleaming so brightly that they seemed like a living river of intertwined serpents.
"It shouldn't be here," Kaandor's voice trembled for the first time, all traces of his confident, all-knowing tone gone. From somewhere came muffled sounds of blows, as if someone else was trying to break through the darkness.
Kaandor kept repeating the same phrase over and over, his voice gradually rising to a shout, while the blows grew faster and clearer. They sounded almost desperate, as though someone on the other side sought to prevent the inevitable—something that confused my mind even more, since the dark companion had let me into his space willingly.
Faced with yet another choice, I sighed heavily and noticed that I could smell nothing, as though in this place nothing existed except for the two mirrors—both reflecting my own image clearly. Yet, looking closer, I realized something was wrong. The facial features and figure were still recognizable, but subtle differences were easy to spot. The newer mirror seemed to show a better version of the woman I could become, if only I chose the right path.
It lured me, promising unearthly beauty and a stately posture. The skin appeared unnaturally smooth, as if a thick layer of foundation had been applied; gone was the healthy flush that would bloom on my cheeks the moment I stepped outside into the crisp winter air that was now claiming the land of Xerton, wrapping the forest in a soft blanket of snow. My face was pale, but without any sign of illness—instead, it bore a noble hue, like Japanese porcelain. This made my gaze seem more expressive and revealed a hidden depth in my eyes, where sadness lay—whether for the future or the past, I could only guess. My hair had grown even longer, falling in neat Hollywood waves over my shoulders and chest. The neckline of my sweater revealed delicate, protruding collarbones. I seemed even thinner, more fragile in appearance—but rather than inspire admiration, it only emphasized my current clumsiness, making it all the more jarring.
The reflection in the second mirror was strikingly different, and I wouldn't say in a worse way. The silhouette had gained noticeable volume. Here and there, the tightly fitting fabric emphasized muscles filled with strength. The face looked sun-kissed, as if I had just stepped off a plane, returning from yet another vacation with my father to the cold Xerton. But that association quickly faded when I noticed a few fine lines of wrinkles already forming on the forehead, hinting that the girl in the reflection was a couple, maybe even several, years older than me—though her hair hadn't lost its shine, and her eyes brimmed with happiness, overflowing with life.
It wasn't hard to tell which of these two images projected the true desires growing inside my soul. I desperately wanted strength. The illusion that it alone could grant me the keys to the free life I longed for had become stronger than ever. I took a step forward, but stopped for a moment in hesitation. What if I was completely misunderstanding this, and these reflections were nothing more than a trap meant to catch me at a moment of weakness, binding me in tight nets from which there would be no way back? I was ready to abandon the idea and give myself more time to think when suddenly the pounding stopped, and Kaandor, contrary to my expectations, began to encourage me, repeating that there was only one last step to take. Could I trust this being I knew almost nothing about? I felt an instinctive connection with him, one that grew stronger each time the dark companion materialized in reality, but remembering Maria's warnings, I couldn't be sure of anything. What if my mother was wrong and Kaandor was the only friend I could have in this chain of chaotic events, where one thing was constantly replacing another? At least someone had to stay on my side while the world closed in around me, cornering me like a pack of wolves, ready to tear into warm flesh and drink sweet blood.
At the thought of blood, my throat tightened, and I noticed how dry my lips felt. No wonder—after all, I hadn't taken a single sip of water all day. I hadn't eaten either—at the mad dinner between the two families, it seemed everyone had more important things to do. I had to put an end to what was happening before someone got hurt, no matter how much I wanted to punish Vladimir for all the evil the doctor had brought into this world.
"He will pay for everything—if you only take the final step," Kaandor whispered in the darkness, and one of the mirrors seemed to slide toward me, but still, I hesitated.
"Tell me, will I be able to protect my family if I go through it?"
"All of them, if you hurry. There isn't much time left."
I didn't like how deftly Kaandor had inserted a ticking clock into this serene place, where there was nothing but me, a pair of mirrors, and darkness. But I understood that the spirit was right: even if minutes here felt unreal, it didn't mean reality had mercifully slowed its pace or stopped the battle unfolding in the hall. In the end, I already knew which of the two mirrors I would choose. There was no point in standing here any longer.
The rational part of me came up with a thousand and one more reasons to accept fate, but the uncertainty sent a cold shiver down my spine. More than anything, I feared making another mistake. Trust and openness to the world had already played a cruel trick on me, but I couldn't keep standing at a crossroads forever. Or could I?
The next moment, I shut my eyes and stepped toward the chosen mirror, meeting no resistance. On the contrary, the cold surface eagerly wrapped around me, and the slightly older Asya reached out her hand, waiting for mine. Her lips curved into a gentle smile. I had never noticed it was so beautiful.
A long-awaited calm enveloped my mind. I felt the strength radiating from my double, and I desperately longed to grow the same strength inside myself for the sake of others.
No, that wasn't right. For the sake of myself.
The decision felt so right and natural that I cast aside my final doubts and placed my hand in hers.