The Day One

Frode was on the couch, wrapped in a soft duvet, sleeping peacefully. Such tranquility seemed abominable to me, now that he had killed me.

I smirked and moved past the elegant furnitures that I had been so used to. I could attend to trivial matters later. I had to get the diary first.

I took big steps. Bigger than average human surely, since my reincarnated body was anything but frail or rusty. I could glide smoothly across a distance as smoothly as a skilled ballerina would perform with grace .

Pushing open the door, I entered the room that I once held so dear to me. It occured to me that I had had really been a fancy lady regarding myself seeing the heavily decorated walls. They reflected my versatility and growth as I had personalized them myself throughout my lifetime. My previous lifetime, that was.

There it was. The diary I was supposed to bring back to my master, 'The songs of rue'. My mom had provided it to me as a present  , it was for winning a mediocre karate competition, perhaps. These were  insignificant now. I had shredded my skin. And I  had learnt of my heritage already. My heritage, my inheritance, my responsibilities. And some dark truths, like how it's infuriating that the agent of the house of the Dragons sleeping peacefully in my house, reeking of Vodka. So I had to focus and be a rightful heiress to my fate, both for the peace of the world and my selfish revenge.