8 The Decision of the Chief

“Well, if you don’t want to tell me where you’re from, I won’t insist,” Alaya said softly, watching me with understanding. “Just know this — I won’t judge you, and your secrets are safe with me. For now, eat and regain your strength. I’ll go prepare a room for you.”

With that, she disappeared somewhere deeper into the house, and I turned my attention to the food.

It looked like some kind of stew — I even recognized bits of potato, carrot, and onion. But there were also strange vegetables I’d never seen before, and meat that almost tasted like beef, though it was sweeter and softer. It was delicious, and I couldn’t help but feel genuinely grateful to the woman.

When Alaya returned, I immediately told her how good it was. She smiled warmly — not the pushy kind of smile, but the kind that made you feel safe. I couldn’t stop wondering how someone so kind could live all alone in such a large house.

“This will be your room,” Alaya said as she led me to one of the doors.

Inside was a small, cozy chamber with another door leading to a bathroom. Everything looked a little different from what I was used to, but the general idea of how it worked was clear enough.

“Freshen up. I’ll bring you something clean to wear,” Alaya said gently, her smile reassuring, before quietly leaving me alone.

After wandering through fields, forests, and gods-know-what bushes, a bath sounded like pure heaven. Without wasting a second, I stripped down and headed toward the large basin. But as I stepped forward, something caught my eye — a huge mirror in the corner, reaching from floor to ceiling.

When I saw my reflection, I froze.

Who was that girl staring back at me?

Standing completely naked before the mirror, I nearly gasped. My breasts looked fuller, my stomach was flat and toned, and my legs — long and flawless, like a model’s. My skin was much paler than before, smooth and glowing, and my hair… my hair was now a soft, luminous lilac color, flowing down like silk.

But the real shock came from my eyes. They used to be blue — ordinary, human blue — but now they glowed like two bright topazes, shining with strange light.

If I looked closely, I could still recognize my features beneath the changes, but it was as if someone had photoshopped me to perfection and added a dozen beauty filters.

And the strangest, most wonderful part?

I looked at least ten years younger.

The girl in the mirror looked no more than seventeen or eighteen — youthful, radiant, ethereal. My face was smooth and flawless, my expression almost otherworldly. And then I noticed the delicate markings on my skin — faint, intricate patterns that shimmered slightly under the light, adding a mysterious beauty to this… new version of me.

What a transformation! Absolutely unbelievable!

After finally stepping into the bath, I was surprised to find there weren’t any bottles or soaps anywhere. But the water itself had a light floral scent, pleasant and delicate.

Perhaps they mix some kind of cleansing essence directly into the water, I thought — because after washing, my skin and hair felt perfectly clean and fragrant, soft as silk. No shampoo, no body wash, yet somehow I smelled like a blooming meadow.

When I stepped back into the room, wrapped in a towel, I found Alaya sitting quietly on the bed, waiting for me.

“Here, Naziza,” she said gently, pointing at a neatly folded stack of clothes. “These once belonged to my daughter, Sariya. I hope they’ll fit you. This room used to be hers as well.”

Her lips curved into a faint, sad smile.

“Will your daughter be all right with that?” I asked cautiously. The last thing I wanted was for someone to come storming in later, screaming and ripping the dress off me because it wasn’t mine.

“Don’t worry,” Alaya said softly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “She… she’s no longer with me. And most likely, she’s not even alive anymore.”

Her voice broke, and she pressed her lips together, trying to hide the grief that flooded her eyes.

“Oh, Alaya… I’m so sorry,” I whispered sincerely. “I didn’t mean to pry. What happened to her? Did the werewolves take her?”

I don’t even know why I asked. The question slipped out on its own, as if some instinct urged me to. I could feel this was something important — something that mattered.

Alaya gave a weary, hollow smile.

“No. Werewolves only take a girl if they sense she’s their fated mate,” she said quietly. “My daughter… she was chosen as one of the king’s potential brides.”

Her voice trembled on the last word, and the sorrow that washed over her made my chest tighten painfully.