Can We Become Family?

Chapter 8

Leaning nonchalantly against the edge of her bed with its white sheets, Naviah exuded a casual yet indisputable authority. Who would believe she’s only eight years old? Charlotte thought. The maid had never witnessed such a commanding presence in the Agnus’ direct descendents, Eudes and Vivian, and it may have even surpassed that of Nikan himself.

A nobility that outshines other nobles... Is that what this is? The girl’s essence seemed more spirited and vibrant than any noble Charlotte had encountered. Even the notion of noble blood being blue—distinctly richer and rarer than that of common folk—seemed inadequate to describe her. She seemed dangerous and unpredictable, a true wild card. Charlotte’s racing thoughts eventually calmed, and she bowed deeper than she ever had, even to the duke. “I am at your command, my lady.”

Naviah beamed with the unrestrained grin of a child, her innocence masking the calculating mind beneath. “I’m counting on you, Charlotte.” The maid bowed even deeper, offering a silent gesture of consent. Naviah’s smile took on a chilling edge. “I’ll tell you what you need to do next. Phillipa and the cook are in on the theft together. Once you leave, find the cook and start sowing the seeds of doubt about Phillipa.”

“You mean to pit them against one another?”

Naviah nodded. “Now that I’ve made Phillipa vulnerable, she’ll have to ensure that I am properly fed. Use this to deepen the rift between them.”

As she listened, Charlotte bobbed her head earnestly. “But what if she destroys the evidence?”

“Unbeknownst to Phillipa, the cook has been stashing evidence in case of an emergency.”

“I see.” Charlotte realized that Phillipa had indeed found herself snared in a trap.

“Make sure Phillipa believes that she is the only one with knowledge of our agreement. It must seem as though you, I, and the cook are all working together,” Naviah said.

Despite her apprehension at the young lady’s sudden change, Charlotte couldn’t help but admire her strategic thinking. She was transcendent—wise beyond her years and fully understanding of the way the world really worked.

Naviah paused, then unfastened the clasp of her necklace. She had received it as a modest gift from Nikan on her first birthday. While it was less precious than the simplest of Vivian’s baubles, it had once held great value to her. “Sell this to buy anything you might need.” In her previous lives, it had never left its place around her neck, but now it was merely a meaningless item that could be liquidated for funds.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“You may go now,” Naviah said, a trace of fatigue surfacing in her eyes as she dismissed her maid.

Before leaving, Charlotte glanced at the tray of food. “Shall I bring another meal?” she asked.

“No, I’ll eat this one later.”

“Then please call if you need me.”

When Charlotte had gone, Naviah let out a long, deep breath. Beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead as a wave of nausea hit her. She curled under her blankets, the deafening silence of the room broken only by the rasps of her quickened breathing. She thought that sleep would come easily, but she found herself restless, her mind racing. The luxurious room felt strangely desolate and she pulled the blanket further up her chin for comfort. Visions of her past selves—the kind, obedient, and well-behaved Naviah—seemed to scold her.

“You ungrateful wretch!”

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to banish such thoughts. This is the right thing to do. I will make sure no one can hurt me ever again. No one... As she reassured herself, she drifted into a deep sleep.

Black Moon

The night was pitch black. The sky was coated in an inky darkness, devoid of moonlight. Naviah felt an overwhelming urge to look up but sensed an eerie gaze upon her. She was seized by a deep, primal fear, as if she were being engulfed by an unseen force. She was certain of it—whatever was watching her was watching from above.

Suddenly, an excruciating pain seared across her right wrist as if she were being burned by a hot iron. She tried to scream in agony, but no sound emerged from her lips. The swift passage of time contorted the scenery into an unsettling landscape. Above, the black sky began to warp violently. The presence watching her now struggled to locate her, as if its vision had been obstructed by some unknown force. Then the sky split open, and a thin crescent moon came into view. The frightening gaze was now gone.

Naviah sighed in relief as the pain in her wrist ceased. Oddly, it was as though the crescent moon had protected her. Completely drained, she held her arm in front of her to inspect her wrist.

■

Why is everything blurry? She squinted, trying to bring her vision into focus.

“Ah!” She jolted awake, her heart nearly about to burst from her chest. Having awoken so abruptly from the nightmare, she was left with not only a headache but also a deep sense of dread and confusion. She thought she might still be beneath the black sky, but she once again found herself in a lavishly decorated bedroom.

Where am I? Whose room is this? Wasn’t I just outdoors, looking up at the sky? Calm yourself, Naviah. Think clearly. She took a few deep breaths, gazing at the morning light streaming through the window as she slowly regained her composure. Her body was drenched in cold sweat from the vivid and terrifying dream. She could still feel the lingering sensation of those unnerving eyes upon her, causing her to shiver.

Was that the feeling of being under the gaze of a merciless god? It must be the fever giving me such nightmares. She sat up in bed, trying to shake off the eerie feeling. Judging by the rising sun, it appeared she had slept for an entire day, which would explain her otherwise refreshed state. Thank goodness I woke up on time. She knew the recent fire was no excuse for her to miss her lessons. Nikan did not tolerate absences. Besides, I have matters to attend to.

Lost in thought, Naviah absentmindedly wiped the sweat from her brow. She caught a glimpse of her wrist and paused. “What’s this?” A strange symbol had appeared in place of the number that once indicated her remaining chances at regression. It was no longer a number, but rather... “A crescent moon?”

A black moon, resembling the one from her dream, was now etched onto her thin wrist like a brand. It seemed ominous—like if she stared at it too long, she might be consumed by it. She cautiously stroked the symbol, almost expecting something to happen, but she felt nothing unusual.

She frowned slightly, murmuring, “It must have come from the dream.” She contemplated the presence she had sensed and the mysterious moon that had appeared in the sky. What could it mean? Why is this all happening? And why, of all times, in my final life?

One thing seemed clear: The crescent moon had, in some way, protected her from the consuming entity in her dream. A chill went down her spine as she recalled that intense, horrifying gaze, which had seemed too real to be dismissed as a mere figment of her imagination. Am I safe for now?

“I can’t stand unexpected variables,” she muttered, sighing. She rubbed her temples, the weight of her thoughts evident in her actions. Such a small child with her face marred by fatigue and years of life’s burdens—if anyone were to witness such a sight, they might find it so bizarre as to be laughable.