The Duke's Slave Daughter

Stranger in the Mirror

The clinking of armor echoed against the stone walls as the Duke's knights led a solemn procession through the palace gates. At the center of it all was Urania, walking with a vacant expression, her body moving only by the gentle prodding of the knights at her sides. The guards near the entrance paused, their faces filled with disbelief as they looked at the girl they once knew.

The entire duchy buzzed with a mixture of fear and fascination as rumors spread about the girl who had entered the palace. Whispers filled the corridors and courtyards, fueled by the sight of her: a stunning figure with a face both beautiful and haunting, her features stained with blood and her presence radiating a dangerous, unsettling energy. It was as though death itself had walked into their midst, cloaked in ethereal beauty. Beside her, the massive white wolf prowled silently, its watchful eyes and powerful form adding to the air of intimidation and mystery surrounding her arrival.

From a distance, Alec noticed his father returning with a strange girl, sparking his curiosity. Intrigued and uneasy, he rushed over to see what was happening. As he approached, he called out to his father.

"Father, where have you been? And who is this... girl?" The Duke hesitated for a moment, his lips tight with uncertainty, but there was no escaping the truth. "This is Urania," he replied, his voice grim.

The moment Alec heard the name, his face twisted in fury, his hands clenching at his sides. But before he could voice his anger, Azrael’s grip tightened on his arm, and he gave a sharp shake of his head, signaling him to hold back. Understanding the unspoken warning, Alec reluctantly swallowed his fury, doing as his father commanded, though the storm inside him raged on.

Some of the servant heard what they have discuss and was shocked to hear who the girl was. They exchanged uneasy glances, watching as she passed by, an unsettling shadow of her former self. She didn’t seem to notice them or anything around her. The gates closed with a heavy thud, signaling the beginning of a strange new chapter for the duchy.

As they moved deeper into the palace, some of the servants gathered, lingering by pillars and doorways, some shielding their mouths with their hands in shock. There was a hushed murmur among them as they caught sight of Urania—alive yet lifeless, her face blank as though she were walking in a dream.

Duke Azrael walked closely behind her, his eyes sharp as he observed every reaction. He felt a cold knot in his stomach, watching how his daughter, once the life of these halls, now evoked silence and dread. Desperation clawed at him, seeking even a flicker of recognition on her face, a sign that the girl he had known was still somewhere inside.

“Urania, do you… remember any of this?” His voice was low but firm, suspicion threading through his tone as he waited, hoping to test if her memory loss was genuine.

She paused, her red eyes shifting slightly as if she’d heard him, but her expression remained blank. “No,” she replied, the word as lifeless as her gaze, offering him no assurance.

The Duke’s jaw clenched as he took in her response. His distrust only deepened, yet he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for what she’d become.

Azrael led her down a winding hall to a door that had not been opened in years. When he pushed it open, the room inside was still as it had been—untouched since the day she’d left. Her childhood treasures and small keepsakes sat untouched, as though waiting for their owner to return.

“Your room,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

Urania entered, her expression as empty as before. She drifted from one side of the room to the other, her fingers ghosting over the small trinkets she’d once cherished, her gaze flickering over the books stacked neatly on the shelf, and the mirror standing against the far wall. She approached it slowly, as if something in the reflection had caught her attention.

Azrael turned to the waiting servants gathered by the doorway, his voice low and commanding. “This is where she’ll stay, and she’ll be watched at all times,” he ordered, a steely note of caution in his tone. “Report anything unusual to me immediately.” His gaze shifted to his trusted butler, who nodded firmly, understanding the gravity of his command.

Azrael’s thoughts lingered on the odd emptiness in her gaze, the bloodstained edge that seemed to mar her aura. He wondered if the girl standing in front of him was truly his daughter or a ghost who merely wore her face.

As the servants and Duke left, Urania stood alone, her gaze settling on the mirror across the room. Slowly, she moved toward it, her pale face coming into view, illuminated by the faint light streaming in from the window. Her fingers rose to touch the glass, her hand hovering as she stared at the image before her.

The woman in the mirror looked familiar, but Urania felt no connection to her. The pale hair, the red eyes, and the vacant expression—this was not someone she recognized. Her hand fell away from the mirror, her reflection still watching her, mirroring the hollow emptiness in her own heart.

She opened her mouth as though to speak, but only a faint whisper escaped. “Who… am I?” Her voice held no curiosity, no fear, only the faintest note of confusion, as if the question itself were foreign to her.

Behind her, the wolf that had accompanied her back from the forest padded into the room, its presence both a silent guardian and a reminder of the untamed strength that seemed to hang over her like a veil.

From the doorway, Duke Azrael watched her, a heavy burden settling on his shoulders as he observed the stranger his daughter had become. He saw her whisper to the mirror, heard the faint question that spilled from her lips, and felt a pang of something he couldn’t name—a grief mixed with suspicion, a longing mingled with fear.

Azrael clenched his fists, the weight of his own doubts pressing down on him. He remembered Urania as a child, remembered the way she’d stubbornly challenged him, the way she’d looked at him with fire in her eyes, a fire that was now replaced by something dark and cold. What if this emptiness, this transformation, was some twisted game orchestrated by a darker force?

“You will stay here, in your room,” he announced, stepping fully into the room. His tone was firm but faltering, mindful of the wolf that watched him with vigilant, gleaming eyes. “Until we understand what has happened… and why you are here.”

Urania only blinked, offering no resistance, her head tilting slightly as if his words were distant echoes. The wolf let out a low growl, but a warning glance from Azrael made it fall silent, retreating to Urania’s side, its eyes still wary of the Duke.

Azrael looked at her, at the bloodstained stranger who bore his daughter’s face. He felt the chilling realization that she truly might not remember him—or worse, that she might be a weapon fashioned by his enemies, meant to destroy him from within.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, emotions warring behind his calm facade. Then, turning to his servants, he gave his final order.

“Watch her carefully,” he instructed, his voice soft but heavy with warning. “And do not trust anything she says.”

With that, he left, closing the door behind him, his thoughts swirling with doubt and resolve. He would find out who was behind her survival, what dark forces had spared her from the death she should have met. And if this empty shell of Urania proved a threat, he knew he would have to face the possibility that the child he had once known was truly gone.

As the night settled over the duchy, Urania sat alone in her room, her gaze fixed on the mirror, lost in the reflection of the stranger who stared back at her. In the silence, the wolf lay by her side, its head resting on its paws, its watchful eyes flickering between her and the door.