Chapter 5 :The Life I Remember

I woke before dawn with blood on my hands.

For one terrifying second, I thought I was back there.

Back in that room.

Back on the cold marble floor where Damon had left me to die.

I could almost feel the blade entering my stomach.

I could hear my own broken breathing.

Then I opened my eyes.

Wooden ceiling.

Blue curtains.

The faint sound of rain against the window.

My bedroom.

Seven years before my death.

I sat up slowly, pressing a hand against my chest.

My heart was racing.

“I’m alive.”

The words came out as a whisper.

I looked at my hands.

They were clean.

No blood.

No wound.

But the memories were still there.

Every single one.

I couldn’t allow myself to forget them.

That was when an idea came to me.

I jumped out of bed, hurried to my desk, and pulled out a thick leather-bound journal.

It had belonged to my mother.

She had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday, telling me that every woman needed somewhere to put the thoughts she couldn’t say aloud.

In my first life, I had barely used it.

This time, it would become my weapon.

I opened to the first empty page.

My hand trembled as I picked up the pen.

At the top, I wrote:

Everything I Remember.

Then I began.

I am eighteen years old.

Today is the morning after Damon came to propose to me.

In my previous life, I accepted him.

I paused.

The memories came rushing back.

Our wedding.

My first night as his wife.

The years of waiting for him to love me.

The endless excuses.

The women who whispered behind my back.

The servants who knew more than I did.

The nights Damon disappeared.

The locked study.

The strange letters.

The Blood Moon symbol.

And finally…

My death.

I forced myself to keep writing.

Seven years after my marriage, Damon killed me.

My hand stopped.

A tear landed on the page.

I wiped it away angrily.

I couldn’t afford to become emotional.

Not now.

I continued.

He told me our marriage had never been about love. He needed my blood.

He knew something about my mother.

There was a mysterious gate.

The Blood Moon Gate.

I underlined the words twice.

Then I started listing everything else I could remember.

People.

Places.

Dates.

Events.

Deaths.

Betrayals.

Secrets.

I wrote down the names of everyone who had died during the seven years.

Captain Rowan.

My childhood friend, Mira.

Three members of my father’s council.

The healer who had treated me after an assassination attempt.

Even servants whose deaths I had barely noticed at the time.

Some names were painful to write.

Others frightened me.

Because now I knew that many of those deaths had never been accidents.

They had been arranged.

By afternoon, the journal was filled with pages.

My fingers ached.

My eyes burned.

But I kept going.

Then I reached one name.

Mira.

I stared at it.

My childhood friend.

In my first life, Mira had died three months after my wedding.

A rogue attack, everyone had said.

But I remembered something.

Two days before her death, she had come to me crying.

She had told me she discovered something about Damon.

I had dismissed her.

I had been angry with her for accusing my husband.

I never heard what she had discovered.

Two days later, she was dead.

My stomach twisted.

“What did you know, Mira?”

I turned the page.

Mira dies three months after my wedding.

She tried to warn me about Damon.

I underlined it.

Then another memory surfaced.

The morning after Mira died, Damon had told me not to investigate.

He had said the rogue attack was unfortunate but meaningless.

At the time, I believed him.

Now I knew better.

I immediately stood.

I had to find Mira.

Not tomorrow.

Not next week.

Today.

I rushed downstairs.

Martha was arranging flowers in the sitting room.

She looked up.

“Lady Seraphine?”

“Where is Mira?”

Her expression brightened.

“Mira? She came by this morning.”

My heart jumped.

“She did?”

“Yes. She’s waiting in the kitchen.”

I didn’t bother answering.

I ran.

I found Mira sitting beside the kitchen window, eating an apple.

She looked up in surprise.

“Seraphine?”

I crossed the room and hugged her.

She nearly choked.

“What are you doing?”

I held her tighter.

“I missed you.”

She laughed awkwardly.

“We saw each other yesterday.”

“I know.”

I pulled away.

I looked at her face.

Alive.

Healthy.

Confused.

Beautiful.

I had almost forgotten what she looked like.

My eyes filled with tears.

Mira’s smile faded.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re crying.”

I quickly wiped my face.

“I had a strange dream.”

“Again?”

I froze.

“What do you mean, again?”

“You told me yesterday that you dreamed Damon killed you.”

My blood ran cold.

“How did you know that?”

“You told me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Mira stared at me.

“Yes, you did.”

I stepped closer.

“What exactly did I say?”

She frowned, trying to remember.

“You said…”

She hesitated.

“You said you saw yourself dying.”

My breathing became shallow.

That was impossible.

I hadn’t told anyone.

Not even Martha.

“Seraphine?”

“Did I say anything else?”

Mira shook her head.

“No.”

I studied her.

Was it possible that my memories had somehow been affecting my dreams?

Or had I spoken while sleeping?

Before I could ask another question, footsteps sounded outside.

Mira glanced toward the door.

Damon entered.

My entire body stiffened.

He smiled when he saw us.

“Seraphine.”

I forced myself to remain calm.

“Alpha Damon.”

His eyes moved between Mira and me.

“You look upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

I smiled.

“Perhaps you should stop asking.”

Mira quietly stood.

“I’ll leave you two.”

“No.”

My voice came too quickly.

Damon noticed.

So did Mira.

I corrected myself.

“You don’t have to leave.”

Damon’s gaze sharpened.

“Why are you so protective of her?”

I looked directly at him.

“Because she’s my friend.”

His expression changed.

Only for a second.

But I saw it.

Fear.

Just like before.

Damon was afraid of Mira.

Why?

I suddenly remembered something else.

Three months before Mira’s death, she had found a black ring in Damon’s study.

A ring bearing the same symbol I had seen near the northern forest.

My pulse quickened.

Damon took a step toward me.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Seraphine.”

I smiled.

“I’m just remembering something.”

“What?”

I looked him directly in the eyes.

“My life.”

His face went still.

I could almost see the questions forming in his mind.

How much did she remember?

What had she discovered?

What did she know?

I turned away before he could read my expression.

“Would you like some tea?”

“No.”

He moved closer.

“I’d rather talk to you privately.”

I knew exactly what he wanted.

He wanted to know why I had changed.

He wanted to discover what had happened to the obedient girl who once loved him.

But he would get nothing from me.

Not yet.

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“There is.”

His voice hardened.

I turned.

“Then say it.”

Damon stared at me.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Finally, he spoke quietly.

“You rejected me yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“Do you regret it?”

I remembered the blade.

“No.”

His jaw tightened.

“Why?”

I smiled.

“Because I remembered who you really are.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Damon’s eyes darkened.

Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.

“Perhaps you should be careful what you remember.”

He turned and walked away.

I watched him leave.

Only when the door closed did I release the breath I had been holding.

Mira came beside me.

“What was that?”

I looked at her.

“I don’t know yet.”

Then I glanced toward the doorway.

“But I’m going to find out.”

For the first time, I understood the greatest advantage my second life had given me.

It wasn’t my knowledge of the future.

It wasn’t my chance to avoid Damon.

It was the fact that everyone around me believed I was still the same innocent girl.

They didn’t know that I remembered every lie.

Every betrayal.

Every death.

And this time, I was going to save the people I had failed before.

Starting with Mira.

But as I returned to my room that evening, I found something waiting on my desk.

A black envelope.

There was no name on it.

Only one sentence written across the front.

You should have stayed dead.