It all looks disturbing. Very, very disturbing. Fresh blood clings to my hands. The men who slaughtered my fiancé lay in pieces at my feet. I try to feel triumphant. Instead, something hollow aches under my ribs.
My fiancé is dead. No amount of blood can bring him back.
The brown-handled dagger slips from my numb fingers. I sink to my knees on the cold tiles of our living room. Quietly, I press another blade to my chest and breathe until the world narrows to steel.
I drive it in.
Surrendering to the afterlife. The only place I was sure to receive open arms from him.
Unfortunately, it's not quite it.
My eyes open to ash falling on my face. Endless and fine, it covers the sky and turns the ground beneath me to cinders. Chains ring somewhere far off, dragged by unseen weight.
A voice strikes through my bones.
"Amara Takana. Too scarred for heaven. Too defiant for hell. Rejected."
I jolt upright, clutching my chest. "Rejected? How is that possible?"
Shadows rise from the ash, shaping a tribunal on thrones of black flame. Their faces are voids. Mercy is not in their language.
"Your vengeance binds you. No afterlife will claim you. You will return."
"I did nothing wrong."
One of them snaps their fingers. A sharp tightness closes around my throat. I can no longer speak.
Each member looks at the others, speaking in a language I've never heard before. A brief moment passes before their attention returns to me.
"You will walk the world of Nethari clothed in another skin."
I stare at them. Totally lost.
Others follow suit. Each takes their turn.
"Gold will line your cradle, yet your hands will remain empty. Reach for the flame, and it will consume you from within."
"The womb that bore you will curse the day you drew breath. Blood will turn cold where it should run warm."
"You will beat against the walls. You will tear at the seams. You will call out to the void. The void will not answer."
"This is the shape of your days. This is the wheel that turns without end. This is what you have earned."
The ash coils around my ankles and pulls. Invisible hands grip my arms, my hair, my throat. I kick and claw, every motion raking pain through my limbs.
Dusted embers scald my skin like needles.
No. Not this. Not again. I don't want another treacherous life. I want to be with the one who has my heart.
I scream but no words leave my mouth.
Maybe they can read my mind.
Send me to hell. Send me to hell instead.
The ash pays no heed. It climbs my chest, floods my lungs, smothers sound. Sparks flash at the edge of my vision. Rage and fear thin into one hard point of need.
The Tribunal's decree hammers in my mind: You will walk the world of Nethari clothed in another skin.
For a single, breathless instant, through ash and silence, I think I hear my dead fiancé's name.
Then the world closes.
***
A single dream can mean many things. Some are nightmares disguised as dreams. Others are fragments of lives we no longer live. Things that feel real in the moment but vanish when we wake.
Like now. I stand in the middle of faces I half-remember. Hands reach for me. Voices call me by names that are and aren't mine.
A deep, commanding voice presses against my mind.
"What right do you have, ungrateful child? Thank the gods of Nethari that I gave birth to you."
Then softer. Warm. Gentle. A woman's whisper, almost like a memory.
"Behave accordingly till we are back to Japan, Amara. Bad behavior comes with consequences."
Another voice. Sharp. Insistent. Full of impatience.
"Adanna, can you hear me? Answer me when I am talking to you!"
And one more. Heavy with longing. Trembling with affection.
"I love you, Amara."
Leave me alone, all of you.
The bed creaks under my jolt. A quiet burn rises up my chest.
No. Stop. It's not real.
I breathe, trying to convince myself.
Just a minor nightmare. Amara no longer exists. This is my current reality.
Looking to my sides, I notice something else feels out of place.
When did I doze off?
I remember sipping my night tea minutes ago. At least I'm sure of that. There are no emotionally tasking royal duties I shouldered today that could have caused this.
I scratch my scalp. My eyes search for the cup of tea I'm sure was by my side before scanning the carpet floor.
Not there.
It could have fallen. I could have woken up.
The tea is sitting on my bedside cabinet. How it got there, I don't know.
The doors of one of my tall closets creak shut. I turn toward the sound.
One of my servants. A young girl around my age. Hair slicked back and knotted. Long white silk tied to her waist and a shorter piece tied to her chest.
She forces neutrality into her voice and expression. "Oh your highness, forgive me. It was not my intention to startle you."
I don't look impressed.
A servant going through my property without my permission. At this time of night?
"You're the girl who served me this tea, correct?" I point to the cup on my side table.
"No, I was not the one, your highness." The servant bows. "I am only here to organize your wardrobe."
She bows again. I just stare at her, fiddling a chunk of my hair through my fingers.
I remember clearly that my wardrobe was organized this afternoon. My personal servant made sure of that.
"I'll ask you again. Are you the one who served me night tea minutes ago?"
"I assure you, it wasn't me, your highness. If you permit me, I can bring you the female servant who served you."
I give her a light smile. "Forgive me. I'm probably still sleepy. I believe you."
The servant's panic shifts to relief.
My head hurts.
"Help me with the medication on my table before you go fetch the servant."
The servant bows again.
"Of course, your highness. Let me help."
She crosses the room to the table at my bedside. I move and sit quietly at the edge of my bed.
I lean forward, positioning my right palm to support my chin. My elbow rests on my lap.
I watch as the servant sets out the plate to mix my medication. She's careful not to make eye contact.
"I've changed my mind," I say. "Open the drawer to my side cabinet and take out the bottle of purple poison."