Depending on the decisions you make, life carries on.

Perhaps I made a wrong choice in the past about my way of living

Maybe because God punished me for that mistake.

And now I have to live by that punishment.

I'm not sure if I'm given a second opportunity, or being punished by having to live this life. But whether it is or not, I still consider it to be God's punishment on me.

Or maybe rather... A curse.

I therefore lived this life according to how Gods above intended, even from the beginning.

There, I somewhat had a reason to live; A reason to live this life.

I figured it was fine even if I had forgotten how I had previously lived. I had no idea of my past experiences or who I was.

As a newborn, I was still newly formed person with brand- new memories.

But I suppose God loved me to the point that he gave me another damn punishment--

I just acknowledge that this world isn't what it seemed to be as I thought. Strange.

Something tragic may have happened for me to experience this, I already knew it. I already expected it.

However, despite the fact that I knew everything, I still continue to act and live this life in silence as---

But what is this?

Why is this happening? This shouldn't be what I asked. This isn't supposed to be happening. I wasn't supposed to feel like this.

Something is changing. It's dangerous. Something big is happening. It's different but familiar.

Why do I feel like I’m not the one moving… but being moved?

There are voices in the silence now. Whispering. Laughing. Mourning.

I see shadows before I see light.

And every time I close my eyes… I’m there again.

The garden. The blood. The cold.

A name I don’t recognize, yet ache to remember.

A face blurred behind the veil of my memory: smiling… or screaming?

Fragments? Bloodshed? All of the above. Everything is so vivid, I can't comprehend nor understand any of them. It's not visions, it's not fragments, neither past-life memories.

What are those?

I can't describe it clearly, my throat is always empty. I never often speak out loud.

Why is this always happening. It's all too familiar, I can't sense anything original.

What am I becoming into?

Why is she doing this?

What's going to happen to them?

Wait- what did I think of again?

This isn’t life. This is a repetition.

I am not living. I am repeating.

And perhaps, I was never meant to escape.

The curse was not the punishment.

It was the mercy.

What in hell did you do to me???

...----------------...

SHUNGG

As he was prepared to strike his sword at me:

"It appears that someone has the guts to enter my territory.", he said with a grim expression, so cold and heartless.

"!!!!"

The west wing of the palace hadn’t seen sunlight in years.

Thick curtains blocked the windows.

Dust lingered in the corners like old ghosts. The stone walls were cold, always cold, even when the rest of the palace glowed with warmth and life.

A tower.

Her chamber.

Her prison?

This was where a young, frail, and yet kind girl lived. Where she was kept.

She was only five, yet already almost understood what it meant to be unwanted. Her nanny, Remy, raised her wisely yet ignorant of her situation.

Though she couldn’t do anything about it, even if she wanted to,

Well- at least to buy new clothes for the little girl to wear.

Yet she couldn’t, she was only there by an order. Her duty.

She doesn’t have any money, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be attached but she had growned to like the little girl, becoming strict to her yet soft.

It was short timed when Remy was called in the palace very often to work on different shift of orders and duties, so the young girl was often alone in that cold place.

Sometimes accompanied with Remy, sometimes by herself.

And there would be days where Remy wouldn’t show up at all. Though the young girl had grown used to it, thinking positively that she was busy being a servant in the palace.

“Father… will he come today?” she asked softly, staring at the door. Her voice barely broke the silence.

The nursemaid who brought her food said nothing. She simply placed the tray on the table and bowed slightly before leaving, locking the door behind her as if she were something dangerous.

She counted the steps. One, two, three… until the hall was quiet again.

No noise was ever present in this cold place, just a creak, just some crawling bugs--

And just a lonely girl waiting to be loved completely.

The young girl slid from her small bed, bare feet touching the icy stone floor. She reached the table and stared at the bread and soup. It had gone cold. She wasn’t hungry anyway.

Instead, she sat near the curtain and peeked outside. The garden was blooming, she could hear laughter. Other children running. One of the noble ladies had brought her sons to visit. She watched from her prison of shadows, unseen.

No one ever looked up to this wing.

She placed her small hand on the glass. “Just once,” she whispered, “just once, I want to feel the sun.”

It hadn’t always been this way.

There were moments, faint and few dreams, where she dreamed his hand touching her head. His voice, firm but not cruel. But that was before she grew to look more like her mother.

Before his eyes began to avoid hers ever since she was born.

The last time she saw her father was at her 4th birthday, though she was never able to celebrate her birthdays till that day when she turned 4. No celebration, but she saw someone she wanted to see.

But only caught a few glimpse in seconds before he vanished, he didn't look at her or noticed her. After that, she never saw him again.

She once overheard a guard say it.

“That child… she’s the shadow of Lady Rosie. No wonder His Grace can’t bear to see her.”

The young girl didn’t understand then. But as she grew, the words made sense.

Her mother, Rosie, had died giving birth to her. And her father, didn’t feel any remorse or anything, only emptiness.

Turned out:

He never loved Rosie, it was obvious

And the little girl? She was the fruit of it all.

The one everyone calls:

A bad curse

Thunder striked across the palace. It was a sign...

That an inevitable event is about to happen.

The moment she was born, he looked at her with something far more than love…

but hatred and disgust.

He couldn't even try to name her, one look at her, the past came flooding in his mind as if a reminder.

"She looks just like her.", he muttered

The look in his eyes already filled the surrounding a cold shiver of wind.

There was only silence in the halls, but a crying of a baby. Who had been born under the weather of a gushing eerie storm-along with thunder.

He ordered to lock her away, assigned a personal maid to raise it herself.

Though there was one word that he said before completely turning his back against the infant:

"Rozena.",

As if the maid understood and knew what he meant, she lowered her head, nodding slightly and then left quickly.

It was a name.

It was a miracle that he still has the slightest care to name a child that he doesn't even want to see or even feel to care about.

As if he was obligated to do so, forced to name something against his will. No one knows what was on his mind that day, to name her.

And just like that, Rozena was born. Not out of love, but of a tragic affair...

the fruit of his ruin.

The misunderstandings.

His past.

His tragic moment.

She was born without love.

And here she was, locked away.

A prison.

She was forbid to step outside, she couldn't be near or see her own father.

Growing up slowly, without knowing what it feels like to be with a family, being loved and cared by a father and mother. Typical sad stories that some would have.

She could've grown up to hate her father, but no.

She was slightly... different.

She grew up wanting the love of her father, instead of hating him, she just hoped he'll come to her.

Inside this dust and gloomy filled tower, a small light was living inside.

There were only a few limited times when Rozena could visit one of the east mansion of the palace, where the walls are filled with portraits of royal families, and her father’s portrait stood out the most.

'Ezekiel Ein Valenche',

A name that if you mention it, it runs shivers down your spine. No one dared to say that name behind his back. But for Rozena-

-that was the name of her father, which she often mentions over and over again under her whispers. Speaking it with full of hope and desperation. To be loved. She wanted to remember that particular name.

As if it was a sacred treasure that is so important to her.

So, Rozena only knew the face and name of her father only on mere paintings in frames hanging on the walls that she could never reach.

And then she noticed

She couldn’t understand why there were no portraits of Rosie, her mother, remained in the palace. No stories.

No trace. As if she had been erased.

If only she knew what had happened between her parents in the past.

She thought to herself, if only she understood the meaning of every word that everyone threw at her, more than she can actually have known.

If she knew the reason why her parents abandoned her.

But it was better if she hadn't.

Just a long tragic past that long needed to be forgotten

And Rozena…

was the reminder.