The silence of the lake was a lie.
Inside Amanda, a storm raged.
She was weaving a web in her heart — not fragile silk, but tempered steel. Every thread was spun from fear and ice-cold calculation.
Knowledge of the future was not a gift. It was a curse. A guillotine blade forever suspended above the soul, dripping the poison of helplessness.
She closed her eyes, and visions ignited behind her lids:
The capital of a great dynasty, spires of white marble piercing the heavens. Right now, fates that would shatter the continent were being twisted there, intrigues spun that would make the world tremble.
And she was here. In the arse-end of the universe, where the greatest treasure was a goat and a broken fence.
A bitter, alien smirk tore free.
All this pathos… like some cheap anime. “Save the world.”
Ridiculous.
There was no scriptwriter waiting in the wings to toss her a convenient magic artifact or an overpowered ally. There was only mud, hunger, and cruel, meaningless chance.
She knew the continent was doomed.
The knowledge burned inside her chest like glowing coal.
She was an ant who had calculated the exact date of the next ice age.
Useless.
Only more painful.
Or maybe… just accept it?
The treacherous whisper slithered through her mind.
Stay here. In this village. In this body. Drag out a wretched little life until the chaos swallowed everything whole.
Wasn’t that the easiest path?
The wind caressed her golden strands with deceptive tenderness.
Snap.
A dry branch cracked behind her — sharp, unmistakable.
Someone was stalking her with the skill of countless hunts.
Amanda did not flinch. Not a single muscle twitched.
Her senses — honed over months of raw survival — had already registered the presence long ago.
The footfalls were painfully familiar. Heavy yet careful, carrying the faintest limp. An old injury to the thigh.
A strong, calloused hand settled on her shoulder. Rough, but without force.
A low, satisfied grunt sounded behind her — playful challenge.
Amanda slowly, almost tenderly, lifted her slender hand and laid her palm over his weathered fingers. Her touch was light as a breath of wind.
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She closed her eyes. A smile — the pure, sisterly one she had practiced dozens of times in front of a cracked mirror — rose to her lips.
“Isn’t it time you grew up, big brother?”
Her voice was calm, melodic, laced with loving reproach.
The hand on her shoulder froze for a heartbeat. Then its owner sighed heavily and dropped onto the moss beside her.
Kaelan.
Amanda’s “elder brother.”
A mountain of muscle and kindness, tousled chestnut hair, warm eyes that always hid a readiness to fight.
“Damn it, Amanda,” he growled without malice. “You’re impossible to scare. Not even once. Is that any way for a girl to behave?”
She kept her gaze fixed on the water.
“If my brother didn’t stomp around like a wounded forest troll, I might actually have a chance.”
He snorted, and his shoulder brushed hers — warm, solid, a shelter.
Kaelan.
The name scorched her from the inside.
Six months ago he had ridden half the continent on a broken-down mare, crazed with grief, searching for a healer for his dying sister. He had poured every coin into the hands of charlatans.
And when he returned, he found a stranger wearing her face.
For weeks his stare had been sharp as a blade. He had tested her with childhood toys, slipped old nicknames into conversation, hunted for cracks in the mask.
But the soul of Yamada Light — prosecutor to the marrow — had held. She memorized every foreign smile, every inflection. And most importantly, she learned to radiate such raw, aching gratitude that the ice in his heart finally melted.
Now he was her fiercest guardian.
And living proof of her greatest theft.
She was a thief — one who had stolen a body, a name, and a love that rightfully belonged to someone else.
“What’s on your mind, little sister?”
Kaelan skipped a stone across the lake; perfect reflection shattered into a thousand fractures. His tone was light, but worry lurked beneath it. “You look like you’re carrying the sky on those fragile shoulders again.”
Just the weight of someone else’s life, brother. And the weight of knowing your world is doomed.
Out loud she said something entirely different — deliberately mundane:
“I was thinking we could try planting southern root crops by the old fence. The soil’s sandy there; they might take. Could mean a real harvest.”
Kaelan turned to her. Suddenly his gaze was razor-sharp, deadly serious.
“The merchants were talking today…” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Something’s wrong in the east, in Eagle’s Talon lands. Attacks on caravans. Strange ones. They say people lose their minds. Forget who they are.”
Amanda pretended to smooth a crease in her dress.
“Just rumors, Kaelan. Bored people will believe anything.”
“Maybe,” he didn’t look away. “But your past ‘random’ ideas — the northern well, the salt stores — they saved the village from disaster. Mother says the gods sent you back to us with a heavenly gift.”
He fell silent. Something warm and defenseless flickered in his eyes.
“And I… I’m just endlessly glad you’re alive. No matter what you’re like now.”
Those words hurt worse than any accusation. They stabbed straight into the one wound that refused to close.
Amanda abruptly turned away, terrified her ruby eyes would betray everything — the panic, the despair, the monstrous guilt.
“Let’s go home,” she said softly, rising and brushing the moss from her dress. “Mother’s probably waiting.”
Kaelan sprang to his feet with effortless grace. His huge shadow fell over her like a shield.
He was her fortress in this alien world.
And her most vulnerable spot.