Before long, Artizia found herself back in the same seat on the balcony, staring off into the distance.
She felt exhausted. Most of the night had been spent tossing and turning, doing her best to turn off her brain. In the end, she had fallen into a fitful sleep for a couple of hours before waking up with the sunrise.
The yoga had taken some of the stress off her mind for a while – she had managed to lose herself in the motions until Margaret came to wake her up.
Eyelids sliding shut, she briefly wondered if she should just go back to bed and try to nap but soon dismissed the idea. It was still early in the morning. Perhaps she would try once the fatigue set in later in the day.
A simple breakfast of fruits and bread were on the table next to her. There was a sense of comfort in the familiar. She had been eating the same breakfast since she was a child. Yoga had been her go-to relaxation practice since she began training her body, and running was still her favourite mind-numbing activity.
But these were not familiar to Eliza Varma.
Eliza would forgo breakfast in favour of a heavier lunch. She never gave yoga a try and was a swimmer rather than a runner.
Artizia had not been able to shake the feeling of dichotomy. Her body; her face; her mind; it all felt ever so slightly… off.
One moment she remembered clearly that she was Artizia Azulrain. The next, a glimpse in the mirror catches her by surprise.
How did someone resolve this? It wasn’t like she could go around asking people for advice. It felt like she was borrowing a body while her body was being borrowed. She could already imagine the look on Leo’s face if he heard her say that.
Her temples were beginning to throb. There was no answer. Both women existed within her. It wasn’t like they were distinct personalities either. Would that have been better? If there was a clear line that could be drawn between Artizia and Eliza, would she feel less disjointed?
All of this was ignoring the real question she had – were her memories of Eliza Varma even real? Could they have been planted in her head? But was that even possible?
She was no expert in magic, but something like that would require an extremely powerful mage – if it could even be done. What would anyone stand to gain by doing such a bizarre thing? Strange and outlandish as it was; the past life theory was the simplest explanation.
Assuming that was true, why?
Had it been a fluke? Why did it happen now? And why did it happen to her? Knowing what she knew of who Eliza Varma was, it was hard to dismiss this as pure coincidence. It wasn’t like she had fallen one day and hit her head, suddenly regaining her memories.
Getting drunk on her wedding night might have been a catalyst – but it wasn’t the first time she had overindulged in alcohol.
The obvious culprit was that… thing she had met when she fainted. When it had touched her, she had suddenly recalled the missing memories of this lifetime. It had also shown her a glimpse of the future.
Was it a time mage? It could have been concealing its identity. That strange landscape must have been some sort of visual construct that it had made.
Artizia felt a shudder go down her spine at the memory of its flat, blank face. The only indisputable fact she knew was that it was strong.
If there was a powerful time mage that had its eyes on her, she had to be wary. Proceeding with the supposition that all the weird things that had happened to her recently were believable, her next course of action was obvious. She needed information.
She stood suddenly and strode to the door. Before she reached it, Beth had opened it and was waiting for instructions.
“Where’s Margaret?” She asked.
“She should be bringing up the lunch trolley.”
Artizia glanced at the clock on the wall, a little surprised to see that she had lost several hours of the day again. “I don’t want lunch yet,” she said. “I’m going for a run. Tell her to find out where we can enter the forest then get ready to accompany me.”
The young maid’s expression stiffened. “M-Me, Your Grace?”
“Yes,” she said, entering the room and walking to her wardrobe. “Don’t worry, it won’t be too strenuous. I just need to stretch after so long.”
“Okay,” Beth said gloomily as she left to look for Margaret to convey the message. She hoped that Artizia wasn’t lying when she said it wasn’t going to be a strenuous run.
Something told her that that would not be the case.
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