Page 13 of Emylia

It didn’t look like a myth.

It looked like a warning.

A large wooden wardrobe stood against the far wall, its surface meticulously carved with the depiction of a sprawling forest. Beside it, a full-length mirror framed in deep mahogany caught the beautiful light, its glass shimmering like a portal to somewhere else; like it belonged in a different realm.

A queen-sized bed sat against the far-right wall, covered in plain white sheets. And draped across it—the most beautiful dress I had ever seen.

It was made of the finest satin, layered with delicate tulle gathered to perfection, crafted in the most breathtaking shade of royal blue. Thefabric was so soft it seemed to glide through my fingers like water, leaving me utterly speechless.

For a long moment, all I could do was stare, feeling strangely... untethered.

Light rain splattered softly against the windowpane, misting the world outside in silver. The kind of day where the edges of reality felt thin. Like if I blinked too hard, everything might dissolve.

Without wasting another second, I wrestled my way into the dress, struggling to tighten the bodice by myself. Ten infuriating minutes later, breathless and swearing under my breath, I finally succeeded.

Fully dressed, I stood in the center of my room, facing the full-length mirror. But I kept my gaze lowered, unwilling—afraid—to look.

Instead, I absently toyed with my bracelet, the one I never took off. The ruby set in its center caught the light, casting waves of scarlet fire across the room. Tiny flares of crimson danced across the walls, painting everything in bleeding color.

I was stalling.

And I knew it.

As stupid as it sounded, I was terrified of my own reflection. Terrified of the person I might see staring back at me. Of the girl I had become without my father. Had grief mangled me so badly that even my face would betray it?

Gods, that would epically suck.

Sucking in a lungful of air, I shoved the fear aside.

I lifted my gaze. Emerald eyes blazed back at me from the mirror—sharp, fractured, dangerously close to shattering.

Pain.

Despair.

Desolation may as well have been scrawled across my forehead, branding me as damaged goods.

I barely recognized myself.

Tears burned my eyes before I could stop them.

No.

I was stronger than this. I had to be.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced the lump in my throat down, locking the tears behind my lashes. With a heart that felt like it might never be whole again, I did the only thing I could: I buried every Gods-damned emotion until nothing remained but numbing abyss.

Sunlight–bold and unapologetic–pierced the thinning veil of clouds, filtering in through the window. It caught the dress, making the brilliant sapphire glow—a dazzling contrast against my olive skin. The gown clung tightly to my chest, tracing the curve of my waist before falling away in cascades of flowing skirts. Even I couldn’t deny how perfectly it fit.

Even with the red tinge around my eyes, even with the cracks running invisible lines through my soul—for a fleeting moment, if I didn’t look too closely, I almost looked beautiful.

I moved toward the door—then hesitated, glancing back at the wardrobe.

Maybe I should throw on some leather pants.

Not a day passed when I didn’t sneak a pair on beneath whatever dress my mother had stitched for me. She even designed the gowns now with secret stitches and hidden buttons, so I could run, climb, breathe—even in a world that told me I was forbidden.

They were perfectly hidden. Perfectly defiant. Because Elinthia forbid a woman wear pants.

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