A loud, impatient knock at her door broke Liana out of her silent musing.
"Liana! Hurry up and get ready or you'll be late! And I know you're still in bed too. You better be up in the next five minutes or you can find yourself without any breakfast!" Her mother's voice was sharp with the exhaustion of a busy morning and a low tolerance for Liana's lateness.
Even after her footsteps retreated away from Liana's bedroom door, she could still be heard yelling at Anthony and Amber, the twins. "Leave your sister's food alone!"
Liana blinked, still shocked, heart fluttering with a joy she hadn't felt in years. To think she was really back. Back to this house, this domesticity, this world that hadn't yet been splintered by chaos and fear. The walls were lined with posters of famous Hunters she admired and the clutter of textbooks and notebooks on her desk felt like old friends. To think she'd once despised even having to touch a textbook and now she wanted nothing more than to read it.
She swung her legs over the bed and stumbled to her feet, winding at the contrast of the warmth she'd just been in versus the coldness of the floor. Every detail of her childhood bedroom felt impossibly vivid as though someone tried too hard to replicate it, but to Liana? It was perfect.
Walking out of her room and into the bathroom just down the hall, she shut the door behind her with a soft click. As she splashed cold water on her face, the warmth of the morning clinging to her began to fade as her grandmother's words rang in her head. 'The future bends back on itself, sometimes. It's not always a straight path, dear.' She'd said it after claiming to see the future again, something Liana always brushed off as a joke but that phrase stuck with her and she now wondered if her grandmother was right.
Liana turned on the faucet and splashed a handful of water on her face. The shock was immediate—cold, sharp, and anchoring. She blinked and gasped softly, unprepared for the effect. Her fingers were damp and trembling as she reached for a nearby towel and patted the droplets from her cheeks. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked in the mirror.
At first, it was just her. Young. Round-cheeked. Brown-skin still flushed with leftover warmth from sleep. Her locs, short and tied in a loose bun, swayed as she leaned closer. Her eyes, deep brown, open and eager, shone with the kind of hope only one that hadn't yet been beat down by the world could still carry.
But then, the image…shifted.
Her reflection changed, morphing into something stronger, sadder, and unfamiliar in all the most familiar ways. It was still Liana but not this Liana.
The woman staring back at her had longer locs, now a dark copper-red, braided tight and slung over one armored shoulder. Her skin was the same deep brown, but the light in her eyes had dulled. There were shadows beneath them, carved by fatigue after too many sleepless nights. Her mouth moved urgently, fast and desperate.
Liana leaned in closer, but there was no sound. Nothing but the sound of water from the faucet and her own breath. Her future-past self, because who else would that be? Was shouting something. Pleading. But she could barely make out what she was saying.
Except for one word. A fragment that she had to strain to even pick up on.
"Win."
Win?
Her brow furrowed in confusion. Win what? Was she referring to the competition meant to take place later this week in the Future Hunters Training Program? It was possible, considering that Liana had lost due to not taking it seriously. It was her dream to be a Hunter, but it wasn't a dream she'd been serious about until she was later forced to be one.
The longer she thought about it, the more her head began to throb. The pressure built slowly, then all at once, there was a sharp twist behind her eyes like barbed wire being pulled tightly. She staggered, clutching the side of the skin as her vision blurred and a white-hot pulse of pain bloomed behind her forehead. The world spun and her reflection swam before her eyes.
Then it was gone. Just like that. The woman in the mirror vanished and only her younger self remained, wide-eyed and shaking. Her chest rose and fell too fast as she squinted, trying to hold on to what she'd seen and what the other Liana had said. But the memory slipped, slippery and fast, like water through her fingers.
"Liana!"
Her mother's voice cut through the tension. Clear, sharp, and real. It dragged her back to the present with a jolt reminding her that she still had to get ready.
"Coming, Mom!" she called back, the cheer in her voice stretched too thin. It was a mask meant to cover up what had just occurred. But…what had just occurred? She could no longer remember.