23 Mirage

Daphne hadn't expected the arrow to approach so quickly. Its spiraling point veered closer and closer, cutting through the air with a whistle. The assassin pulled her to one side, yanking her away from the border of death. Not until the sharp point flew right beside her forehead did she realize what had happened.

Its gleaming point grazed a few strands of her hair before burrowing inches deep into the tree behind her.

"Trade with me for this woman," the little assassin repeated, his voice slightly shaking. "Give my brother back to me."

"He won't." A soft whisper came from Daphne. "You saw what he would do to us."

The rows of pointed arrows smiled brightly at the two of them, and the Northern King looked onward with his own already fired bow still in position.

"Please run away."

Another arrow fired, this time even harder to dodge than the last as it slightly nicked the assassin's arm.

"Tell your master that I wish to form an alliance," Daphne pleaded again.

The Northern King took another tip from his quiver, taking his sweet time before notching it.

Daphne's mouth slightly gaped open in horror. This time, the point was aimed directly at her own heart. And unlike the Northern King's missing one, hers was thumping wildly in her chest.

"Go!" She screamed, and she felt a coarse hand reach for her mouth and force something down her throat.

The large pill had a bitter taste as it slid down her throat, and it scraped against the sides of her esophagus as she involuntarily swallowed it.

The assassin's fearful eyes stared back at her. "Save my brother, or else..."

He took a step back.

"He has the antidote to the poison I just fed you."

With brisk steps, he turned and ran in the opposite direction.

"Remember the symbol of the moon—"

"If he dies, you'll die alongside him."

Seeing his short stature run off into the distance, suddenly, a dull pain hit Daphne from inside out, almost like the pill had punched the linings of her stomach.

The sky spiraled around her, and she dug her nails into a tree branch, trying to brace herself.

All she saw was a shadow and a pair of concerned amber eyes before she fell.

-----

"Princess?"

A hunched shadow called to her, the voice hoarse.

"It's time to wake up."

Daphne didn't want to wake up from her peaceful slumber. In her dreams, she had been back in the palace at the Kingdom of Eversun. Her father and mother had happily beckoned to her, calling her name as they waved for her to join them on the balcony. To their side was her nanny and Akira, and there was no sickening crow branded onto Akira's forehead.

What's more, there was a strange shadowy figure standing by them. Although his face was obscured by a muddled darkness, there was something familiar about him that Daphne couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Princess, wake up!" The voice called again.

She knew she was dreaming, but she refused to believe it.

She raced up the stairs.

"Wake up!" The deep voice called again.

"No!" She screamed, trying to race towards her parents, but the steps beneath her crumbled with her every step.

As the rays of reality began to shine through her dream, the mirage faded away.

"Don't leave..." She whispered, and she felt a cold hand grip hers. Instinctively, she tried to recoil, but she found that she could not move her fingers.

"I'm here," the cracked voice sounded again.

The world blacked out again.

In her dreams, she only heard the same call over and over.

"Princess…wake up."

Then it would temporarily stop, only to resume with urgency.

-----

She didn't remember how long she had been asleep, but when she awoke again, she felt like her body had turned into mush. Even lifting her eyelids seemed like she had to go against the forces of ten thousand elephants.

When she finally opened her eyes, she couldn't trust her own vision.

The ceiling above her was the same familiar pattern that she had once designed. The hardy branches of the plum blossom tree were in full bloom, a few spots of solitary red ablaze in a field of white snow. Even the little rabbit crouching in the corner had the same exact spot she had once painted on herself.

The image was the exact same one she had opened her eyes to for the past nearly two decades.

Her neck was stiff, but she forcibly tilted her head to the right. There, a mahogany bookshelf sat with her favorite books, a little bookmark still marking the page of her most beloved poem.

And to the left was her dressing table, the ornate silver mirror reflecting her own face.

Everything was the same as she remembered it, and for a split second, she managed to convince herself that the entire war and the interactions with the Northern King were nothing but a long nightmare.

Perhaps, she had just woken from a long and deep slumber, and she had imagined every little detail.

Everything was the same, but the woman in the mirror was near foreign.

She stared back at Daphne with the same wide eyes, but her before slightly chubby cheeks were now gaunt. And her sleek locks of hair were dulling, as if the color had been bleached from their very roots.

She forced herself to sit upright, realizing just how light her body suddenly felt now.

"Akira?" She called out, her throat coming out in a raspy whisper from the disuse.

"Akira?" She stumbled out of bed, her toes resting against the fuzzy white rug.

She forced her feet forward, wondering where everyone had gone.

Half-dragging herself to the window, her heart sank.

Instead of the grotto of cherry blossoms she had been accustomed to seeing every day, there was but a barren land covered in snow.

No songbirds were cheerfully chirping on branches, but only flocks of ravens and falcons soared overhead.

And her people were not a wall away. People wrapped in thick coats milled about on the cobblestone steps, tightly wrapped to fend off the cold.

Blinking, Daphne wanted this nightmare to finally be over and for Akira and her nanny to suddenly appear before her and sweep her into a long embrace.

In response to her wishes, a pair of cold hands wrapped around her waist.