Barracks (War of Hearts)

40- Altered

"Cecile?" I murmur aloud. There's much to explain. Everything crystallizes—I realize it's not my burden to fix. Her mistakes won't dictate my destiny.

"Cecile!" I call out again. She's here, somewhere, perhaps even within my own mind. Her memories blend with mine, and I must tread carefully. Her thoughts and emotions threaten to sway my decisions.

The coin slips from my hand as she takes a seat beside me. Her frame is delicate, her eyes filled with sorrow. It's impossible to look away.

"I thought it was exercising good judgment. I failed my kingdom," she defends herself.

"No!" I snap. This is betrayal. If this is the reason she wanted Aldaire on the throne, I am not going to risk his existence. "This is treachery. You sold out Barracks, and now he wants it."

I pull away when she reaches over. I am disgusted to have her in my head now. Her failure is also mine now. This is worse than I thought.

"Is this the reason why you couldn't tell me?"

"I didn't plan this. I was going to fix it, but everything was ruined, and you were my only option."

"Your only option? I don't understand anything." I pull at my hair, frustrated by the situation. This wasn't supposed to be. My secrets are piling up. Now I have to carry Cecile's also?

"Your mom was going to give birth to twins. Superfetation. A prophecy that couldn't happen. I knew her plans, and when she sent you to the other world, I used my powers to live in you."

This is repulsive—possessing a baby's body without permission. "You met my mom?"

"I did. A beautiful woman."

"Wait, did you say twin?"

Cecile's eyes avert down to her fingers. "I don't know what happened to her. Your mom died protecting you. I suppose she hid her other child somewhere here in our world. Or she might have died. She wasn't my priority."

A sister? I had a sister. I have a twin sister. It's information I can't digest; I feel light-headed.

"Are you sure about this? When did it happen?"

"It's been one hundred and thirty-five years since everything happened. Time here is different from the human world," she explains.

One hundred and thirty-five years? Am I that old? But how could that happen? In that case, my sister is older than me.

"If she knows the truth, maybe not." She answers my unspoken thoughts. "Witches often lie dormant for years, sometimes using spells to retain their youth. Like my sister."

Anastasia. How old is she?

"We're the same age, born of different mothers, of course. She's one hundred and fifty-nine... sixty this year."

I blink. But she appears so young. And to have given birth? It's marvelous.

"She used a spell years ago. Before she stopped using it, that is."

"And you've been with me since the day I was born?"

"Yes."

"How did my mom die?" I ask, my heart skipping a beat as I say the word 'mom.' An intangible bond connects me to her, and I'm determined to uncover the truth behind this tangled mess. "Cecile, how did she die? Was she poisoned? Did her powers kill her?"

She shakes her head. "It would have been easier that way, but her death remains unspoken among covens. I am not allowed..."

"Too bad I don't belong to one. Now tell me, who killed her?"

Her eyes hollow, she freezes. "They did. Her family, her coven. She protected you, but they took her. Some were cursed, others escaped."

Tears stream down my cheeks. I never met her, but her sacrifice won't be forgotten. All for us? But what does superfetation have to do with a prophecy? My hands clench into fists, nails digging into my skin. Anger makes me bleed. She remains silent as I walk to the sofa and sit, crying. This feels like a dream—one I don't want to wake from. If I do, my search for my biological family will unravel into a painful knot in my chest.

"Who killed you, then? Instead of gathering proof, just tell me. It'll be easier for everyone."

She chuckles, arms falling to her lap. "If only it were that simple."

"You are ashamed? You should be! And right now I am making this clear. I have a life to discover; I won't stay here for you."

"Yes, you will, Leizabeth. I chose you, and you should."

"And I am supposed to accept it? You are dead, and for your information, if you were alive, my queen was not you."

She extends her arm, palm open, directing it at me. My body stiffens, and the darkness embedded within me begins to manifest in my arms. My eyes, I realize, now bear different colors, shimmering like the phases of the moon.

"I still have control over you, Leizabeth. This is my way of marking you, and like it or not, you owe me. It's the least your mother could give me. After everything."

What did she do for me?

"I brought you back. I altered Stefani's memory so you wouldn't be discovered. I killed all those witnesses."

"I didn't ask you to."

"But I did anyway. For our sake." Our? There has never been any "our." It's too crowded for one body. She's weaker than she lets herself believe because not long after, the weight on my chest begins to fade.

Even though it takes seconds, it feels like hours when she releases her grip. We're both panting, exhausted from fighting for the same thing.

"I don't agree. I still believe I don't owe you anything."

"I'll find ways until you accept."

"I am not scared of you, Cecile. If you have anything to say, go and tell him yourself. You visit him."

Cecile holds her gaze firm, her posture elegant. She lifts her chin, undeterred by my words.

"Because he is with you. You are the only one who can hear me." With that, she walks to the passageway and disappears behind the door. I'm aware that even if I don't grant her power over me, she'll still linger in my head. The difference now is that I won't accept her takeover as she's used to. Not without a fight. I'll do whatever it takes to expel her and unlock my freedom.