The air was still damp from last night's rain, and the fields beyond Valemont shimmered with a thin mist. The horses' hooves beat softly over the wet earth, sending small flecks of mud against the morning light.
Seraphina rode slightly behind the others, her hands steady on the reins, though her thoughts were anything but.
Ahead, Selene and Lord Devan rode side by side, their laughter rising and falling in the cool air. Selene's mare trotted easily beside his stallion, their movements almost in rhythm, as if they had practiced it. From where Seraphina rode, the sight was… disquieting.
It wasn't jealousy that stirred in her — not exactly — but something harder to name. A sense of distance, as though she were watching them through glass.
"Keep up, sister!" Selene called over her shoulder, her voice light, teasing.
Seraphina forced a smile and urged her horse forward, though the air around her felt oddly heavy — thick, as if it clung to her skin. The trees on either side of the trail rustled faintly, but the wind didn't touch her face.
For a fleeting second, she thought she heard someone whisper her name.
She turned. No one was there.
Only the forest stretched behind them, mist curling low around the roots.
"You look pale, Sera," Devan said as she caught up. "Are you unwell?"
"I'm fine," she said quickly, though her voice sounded distant, not her own.
Selene gave a small laugh. "She's fine, my lord. My sister often drifts into her thoughts. She likes to chase clouds when she rides."
Seraphina smiled faintly but said nothing. She glanced toward Selene — and for the briefest moment, the sunlight seemed to flicker across her twin's face, distorting it. Her reflection flashed in Seraphina's mind — the same eyes, the same lips — but reversed, mirrored.
A trick of the light, surely.
They rode further, past the orchard where the last of the blossoms had fallen. The petals clung to the grass like pale ghosts. As the trail narrowed, Devan rode ahead to scout the path, leaving the sisters momentarily alone.
"Enjoying yourself?" Selene asked, her tone light but her eyes unreadable.
"Yes," Seraphina murmured. "It's beautiful out here."
Selene tilted her head, studying her. "You're quiet. You were always quiet after dreams. Did you dream again?"
Seraphina froze. She hadn't told anyone about her dreams — not since childhood.
"How would you know that?" she asked softly.
Selene only smiled, her eyes glinting like glass catching light. "Because, dear sister," she whispered, "I always know."
Before Seraphina could answer, Devan's voice called from ahead: "The trail clears here! You'll both want to see the view!"
Selene turned her horse with a graceful motion and galloped forward. Seraphina followed, but the trees around her seemed to warp, stretching longer, darker. The sound of the hooves grew distant — echoing strangely, out of rhythm.
When she broke through to the clearing, sunlight poured across the hills. Devan and Selene were waiting at the ridge, both smiling as though nothing had changed.
But for a moment — just a flicker — Seraphina could have sworn she saw another figure riding behind them.
Someone who looked exactly like her.
And then it was gone.
The afternoon sun had begun to fade when they returned to Valemont Hall. The manor loomed in its usual grace, its windows reflecting pale light from the waning sky. Servants hurried to take the horses, and polite farewells were exchanged.
Lord Devan bowed courteously to both sisters before departing down the long gravel path. His carriage wheels crackled faintly, fading into the hush of dusk.
Inside, the hall felt too still. The air held a faint chill that hadn't been there that morning.
"Will you join Mother for tea?" Seraphina asked softly, removing her gloves.
"Later," Selene replied, her tone distant. "I'd rather change first."
Seraphina nodded, hesitating as if to say something more, but thought better of it. She turned toward her chambers, while Selene ascended the staircase — her gown whispering against the steps like a slow sigh.
Upstairs, her room was as she'd left it: the drapes drawn half-closed, the perfume of lavender lingering faintly in the air. The soft murmur of the wind came through the balcony doors.
Selene crossed to her dressing table and began unpinning her hair, watching her reflection in the mirror. The ride had left a faint flush in her cheeks, her eyes bright from the wind. For a fleeting moment, she thought she looked almost… alive again.
Then her gaze fell to the far side of the glass — and her breath caught.
On the surface of the window, faint but unmistakable, was the imprint of a small hand.
She froze, the pins slipping from her fingers and scattering across the floor.
It was there again. The same size. The same smudge, pressed just above the latch — as though a child had stood there, reaching out.
Selene's pulse quickened. Slowly, she approached the window. The room seemed to tighten around her, the air colder with each step.
She reached out, touching the mark with the edge of her sleeve. It hadn't faded. The impression felt almost oily, damp, as though freshly made.
She wiped once. It didn't vanish.
A shiver passed through her. The faintest sound — a breath, or perhaps a sigh — brushed against her ear.
Selene spun around.
No one was there. Only her reflection in the tall mirror — calm, still, untouched.
But when she looked back toward the window, her reflection didn't move with her.
It stayed turned away.
Selene stumbled back, her hand pressed to her mouth. The reflection slowly lifted its gaze toward her, eyes dark and hollow, the outline of another small handprint appearing on the inside of the glass.
Then — in the blink of an eye — everything was normal again.
The reflection moved as it should. The mark had vanished.
Selene stood alone in her silent room, her heart hammering. The faint scent of lavender had turned sharp, sour.
She whispered to herself, "It's only my mind… only my mind."
But as she turned toward the door, she thought she heard the soft sound of bare feet running down the corridor.