Marked by my past life

Chapter four

Astrid stopped sleeping properly after that. Whenever she closed her eyes, she was not alone. Something else lingered behind her thoughts—quiet, patient, waiting for the moment she stopped resisting.

She couldn’t remember how long she had been there, only that the castle had changed since the circle. Or maybe she had.

The halls no longer felt like they were simply watching her, they were recognizing her.

Doors opened slightly too early when she approached them. Shadows shifted just a little too deliberately when she passed, as if the castle anticipated her movements before she made them. Even the air seemed to hesitate around her, unsure whether to obey her or fear her.

She found herself standing in front of a mirror she did not remember walking toward, which had been happening a lot lately, she was showing up in random places in the house and experiencing even stranger occurrences. The mirror was tall and old, framed in dark metal that looked half-melted in places, as though it had once survived a fire that refused to fully die. The castle seemed to have been engulfed by fire but was salvaged.

Astrid knew she shouldn’t have looked into it, but she did. And for a moment, nothing happened, only her reflection stared back, she looked pale, exhausted and fractured.

Hunger had hollowed her out, though she refused every meal that Ryker left for her, letting them sit untouched until they were taken away again.

Then something strange happened. Her reflection blinked, and Astrid froze. Maybe she was hallucinating. Her breath caught mid-inhale as the girl in the mirror tilted her head slightly, studying her with quiet familiarity. It didn’t seem like she was seeing things, it was really happening.

“You’re late,” the reflection said softly.

Astrid stumbled back. “No,” she whispered. “No, that’s not real.” She laughed, she might as well be losing her marbles because nothing made sense ever since the night she was abducted.

The reflection smiled faintly.

“It always starts like that,” it said.

The air in the room shifted, the mirror darkened and suddenly, Astrid was no longer alone in her mind. A memory forced itself through—not a flash, but a continuation. This has been happening a lot lately.

She stood in a vast hall. This hall—but whole. Alive. Lit with golden fire that did not burn, and she was laughing confidently. Across from her stood Ryker, not the Ryker she knew.

This version was sharper, worn down by something she could not name and still, he was watching her like she mattered more than anything else in existence.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he said.

Her voice, her other voice, answered without hesitation.

“I already am.”

There was a silent pause, then Ryker said something that did not belong in any world she knew.

“If you break it again, there will be nothing left for you to return to.”

And with that, the memory snapped. Astrid gasped and collapsed to her knees, palms striking cold stone as her body trembled violently.

“That’s not me,” she whispered. “That’s not me, that’s not me—”

Her certainty was already fraying, a slow, deliberate sound echoed through the corridor, and she heard a clap. Once. She flinched and Ryker was there. Of course, he was. He always arrived as if the world had already informed him where she would break.

“You saw her again,” he said.

Astrid pushed herself to her feet too quickly, anger cutting through fear.

“Who is she?”

Ryker looked in a mirror instead of her.

“She is what you were,” he said quietly, “before you became… uncertain.”

Astrid’s chest tightened.

“Stop talking like I’m two different people.”

Ryker finally looked at her, and for the first time, there was something in his gaze that resembled warning.

“That is exactly what you are.”

Silence fell heavy between them, Astrid shook her head, backing away slightly.

“No. I have a life. I had a family—”

“You had many lives,” he interrupted.

The words landed wrong. The mirror behind her flickered again.

Astrid turned instinctively, but the reflection was no longer smiling. It was watching her. Then it raised its hand, exactly mirroring hers, except Astrid had not moved.

The reflection spoke one last time, softly, almost gently.

“You always try to forget me first.”

The mirror cracked, a sharp fracture of sound split the room, like reality itself resisting pressure.

Astrid stumbled back, but Ryker caught her wrist.

“Don’t look at it again,” he said quietly.

Her voice shook. “Why?”

His grip tightened slightly, not forceful, but certain.

“Because she is starting to look back properly.”

The mirror darkened completely, and the reflection vanished, but the feeling remained.

Astrid pulled her arm free. “Tell me the truth,” she demanded. “All of it. Now.”

Ryker did not answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, close enough that the air shifted around him, ancient, controlled, restrained by something she could not yet see.

When he spoke, his voice was lower. Careful.

“You are not becoming her again,” he said, staring deep into her eyes.

“She is becoming you.”

The air froze and Astrid’s breath caught.

“That’s impossible. What does that even mean?”

Ryker held her gaze and was about to speak when a distant bell echoed through the castle, changing his expression changed instantly.

“That shouldn’t be ringing,” he said.

Without hesitation, he turned toward the exit.

Astrid followed a step.

“Who are they?” she demanded.

He paused at the threshold.

“The ones who remember you correctly.”

The doors began to open on their own.

Ryker looked back at her once.

“Stay out of sight.”

Then, quieter,

“As bad as it sounds, staying with me keeps you safe. If they see you like this… they won’t ask questions.”

And then he was gone, the castle shuddered and somewhere beyond the walls, something began to walk towards her.