Time did not stop for fear.
The days that followed the kidnapping were filled with motion—quiet, controlled, relentless motion.
The mercenaries said nothing.
Not to the guards. Not to the interrogators. Not even under the weight of imperial decree.
They were trained, or broken, or both.
And then, one morning, they were simply gone—cold bodies discovered in their cells, poison between their teeth, silence in their mouths.
It was over.
Or so it seemed.
But nothing in the Elerian duchy ever really ended.
Not when the stars had begun to shift.
Not when fate had already been rewritten.
In the Days That Followed
The mansion returned to its routines. The scent of lavender returned to the halls. Servants resumed their cleaning. Guards resumed their patrols. The Duchess's name was never spoken again, and the dungeon below remained locked.
But something had changed.
There was a weight in the air—like a secret that refused to settle. A thread pulled loose from the tapestry of fate, unraveling softly at the edges.
Virelle knew it.
She could feel it in the way her tea tasted slightly sweeter, or how the silence in her room no longer felt suffocating.
The world was shifting. Quietly. Almost kindly.
And she didn't know whether to trust it.
And the full moon returned
The sky was silver that night.
A soft silver, veiled in clouds, like moonlight seen through silk.
Virelle wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she stepped onto the marble veranda just past midnight. Her hair had been left loose, a cascade of gold against her pale blue robe.
The breeze was gentle. The garden below glittered with dew.
Behind her, Princess Serenthia followed, silent as ever, her boots barely making a sound.
And nestled between them in the crook of Virelle's arm—
Lia.
A kitten. Still.
Soft silver fur.
Big blue eyes.
A weight that Virelle had come to rely on without realizing it.
Just like last time.
They didn't speak much.
They didn't need to.
They walked.
They wandered between the hedgerows, the moonlight turning the flowers translucent. The air was cool but not biting. Stars flickered above like shy witnesses.
Virelle paused by the central fountain, staring into the rippling surface. Her reflection wavered.
"I still don't know why she changed," she said quietly.
Serenthia leaned against the marble ledge beside her. "It doesn't matter."
"It does," Virelle murmured. "She became someone real. Someone who could speak. And then she was just… gone again."
Serenthia glanced at Lia.
"She's not gone."
"I know." Virelle looked down at the cat in her arms. "But I want her to stay."
The princess was silent for a moment. Then said softly, "Sometimes the gods are cruel. Sometimes they are kind. Most times… they're just watching."
"Do you think they're watching now?"
"I think they're waiting."
The Next Morning
The first rays of sunlight poured through the windows like liquid gold.
Virelle woke to warmth at her side—heavier than usual.
Not fur.
Not whiskers.
But warmth.
A body.
Breathing softly.
She opened her eyes and turned—
And forgot how to breathe.
Lying beside her, curled into the covers like she belonged there, was a girl.
Not a stranger.
Not anymore.
Her silver hair spilled like moonlight across the pillows.
Her skin was pale and smooth, bare shoulders rising and falling with each quiet breath.
And her face—
Serene.
Peaceful.
So familiar it ached.
"...Lia?" Virelle whispered.
The girl stirred. Her lashes fluttered open.
Blue eyes.
The same blue eyes that had blinked up at her from tiny paws and soft meows for months.
But this time—
They were shaped by memory.
By something human.
By something that remembered everything.
Virelle couldn't speak.
She wanted to.
She didn't know what she would say if she did.
She couldn't even move.
Lia smiled gently.
Like she had been waiting for this moment.
And then she said, voice hoarse and quiet:
"Good morning."
Virelle hadn't known what to do.
So she'd done the only thing she could think of—called Serenthia.
And of course, the princess had responded with absolute calm.
By walking into the room, seeing a silver-haired naked girl wrapped in Virelle's sheets, and promptly choking on her tea.
"This is becoming a pattern," she hissed. "You can't just keep manifesting beautiful girls in your bed!"
"I didn't do anything!" Virelle cried, beet red. "She just—she was a cat, and then—"
Lia yawned and sat up. The blanket slipped a little.
Serenthia looked away, face also pink now. "Can someone please put clothes on her?!"
After Dressing, Breakfast, and Minor Screaming
They sat together in Virelle's sunlit sitting room, pastries on the table, tea untouched.
Lia wore a soft white dress borrowed from Virelle's closet, her silver hair now brushed and tied into a loose braid.
She looked human.
She looked real.
But she still moved with a cat's grace—quiet, soft, unassuming. Like she might vanish again if someone stared too long.
Serenthia tapped the teacup in front of her. "So. You're human again."
"Yes."
"And you don't know why."
Lia hesitated.
"I think… it's the moon."
Serenthia blinked. "Of course it is. Because nothing in this world isn't the moon."
Virelle looked at her. "Do you remember anything?"
Lia nodded. "Everything."
Even the parts she didn't want to.
Even the parts she couldn't speak of.
Even him.
Cassian.
His eyes. His silence. His blade.
The way the world had once ended—with Virelle broken on the gallows and Lia trapped in a cage of regrets.
But now…
This time, she'd saved her.
This time, the story had changed.
___
Lia sat on the edge of the bed that night, watching the stars from the open balcony.
The air was cool, the moon no longer full—but still strong enough to remind her.
I don't know how long this form will last.
Maybe a day. Maybe two.
But if I can use this time—
She looked back at the door where Virelle had just left to fetch her more clothes.
Then I'll protect her, even like this.
Even as a girl with no past and no name beyond a meow.
Her eyes turned up to the stars.
And for the first time in two lifetimes—
She wasn't alone.