Her eyes widened, a stunned silence falling over her as she took in the image before her.
Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her right hand, her fingers trembling slightly as they reached towards the glass. She didn't touch it, but hovered just an inch away, as if unsure if the woman staring back was real.
Her head tilted to the side, studying the curve of her jaw, the shape of her eyes, the unfamiliar arrangement of her features.
A small gasp escaped her lips as she lowered her hand, her gaze now sweeping from the top of her head down to her bare feet.
She turned slightly, observing the line of her shoulder, the curve of her waist.
Her expression shifted from stunned surprise to dawning recognition, mixed with a touch of wonder and perhaps a hint of fear.
She took a step closer, her breath fogging the glass momentarily, then a step back, as if needing distance to fully comprehend what she was seeing.
"That's me…" she uttered under her breath.
She used her index finger to appreciate and stroke her long eyelashes, while staring in amazement at her distinct heterochromia eyes… one the color of spilled crimson, the other a deep, endless black.
Running her fingertips along her nose, she noticed how aesthetic its shape was to her face, with its refined tip and smooth contour, free of humps or depressions.
Her fingertips traced her cheekbones, down to the edge of her lips, then across as if lining the gap between her top and bottom lips.
She puckered them a little and bit on the side.
Then, with all fingers, she cupped her jawline.
Some stray strands of her hair flowed mildly, mimicking her every movement, no matter how minute, with a beat of lag.
Sena combed using her fingers her long straight hair from root to tip, then paused, holding the ends in her hand.
She stared, mesmerized by the ombre: rose gold at the roots cascading to light silvery pink tips, as if a vibrant dye had thinned to a delicate whisper.
The wave and curve of her chest, her hips, her voluptuous contour going down, didn't bother her anymore; she'd gotten used to her female form.
But having to see her face for the first time, she wondered just how powerful women are.
To say the least, she could not believe just how bewitching her features were.
"Aren't I properly beautiful?" she wondered. And for a moment, a thought lingered:
What if Idris saw me? Would he think the same?
She looked down to her left, as if hiding herself from her own reflection, embarrassed by her thoughts. She gathered her composure, glancing up again towards her reflection, she found herself in deep thought.
Women are bestowed with an abundance of blessings: not only to be able to reproduce, to create, to nurture, to beguile, to tease, and to comfort, but also the power to command, inspire, lead, and model.
All while keeping poise, allure, intelligence, grace, and respect.
The burden and responsibilities overwhelmed her.
She wondered what type of woman she should become.
Having the chance to truly know herself, despite the lack of historical dignity, she found it profound to live her third life as a woman.
An honor even.
"I am honored…" she whispered, as tears began to swell and form at the corners of her eyes.
Her third life had now gained another layer of resolve and purpose.
She vowed not to immerse herself arbitrarily or indulge in recklessness, but to treasure the blessing bestowed upon her, living it fully as a woman.
With that thought, she went ahead and bathed.
---
As he stood just outside his front door, Idris drew in a deep breath.
The sharp, cold night air held in his lungs, as if trying to dull his senses.
He closed his eyes, holding his breath, and thought about why he'd so completely dismissed Sena's taunt. A memory of someone's smile flashed through his mind.
He let out a long sigh…
"Haaaaahhhhhhhhhh... Why did she have to be a woman?" he questioned softly.
Moving forward, he began to cover the perimeter surrounding his house. With keen and heightened senses, he strategically moved wandering here and there.
Wondering what Sena actually looked like, he almost regretted being blind, but he refused to falter.
He heard the sound of clattering mandibles echo through the night air. He'd been hearing the same sound for some weeks now, always wondering what type of bird it was.
Zigzagging through the trees that encircled his house, he sensed no presence within or beyond the immediate vicinity.
With a wave of his right hand, spear-like roots emerged from the ground, forming spiky barricades to double the protection.
Moving his head upward, closing his eyes, and feeling the evening breeze on his face, he uttered to himself, "Something's coming."
He then walked back to his house after placing his safety measures.
Before opening the door and letting himself in, he moved his head down and sensed Sena's presence. He made sure she was already upstairs, so they could avoid any further interaction for the night.
Recalling Sena's soul's appearance, he still couldn't shake off the fact that her soul outlined not only a feeble old man but also a delicate, tiny baby.
He thought that tomorrow, he'd continue to get to know her more.
As Sena closed her room's door, she glanced at the French-styled windows adorned with long, heavy drapes. For some reason, she wasn't comfortable leaving them tied open, making the window widely exposed for anything to peer through.
The fear of the lurking bird still haunted her. She opted to close the drapes, but left a tiny space just enough for the moonlight to peer through.
Settling into the bed with its enveloping mattress, she blew out the candlelit lamp beside her and tucked herself into the soft comforters.
Idris slowly walked inside, deciding to wash up before sleeping.
As soon as he was done, he went to his room, locked the doors, and walked towards a framed photo on a desk adjacent to his bed.
"I miss you..." he said with longing in his voice and eyes, kissed it, then went to bed.
Sena and Idris lay in silence, eyes on the ceiling, waiting for slumber to quietly take them.
--- --- ---
Shivering. Trembling. Shaking.
Tremoring with a fear that slithered up his spine like ice.
A foot soldier, barely holding himself together, stumbled through the dark… dragged by dread as he forced his legs toward the command post tent.
Inside, the other soldiers had already assembled, reporting the day's findings.
He didn't wait.
He burst into the gathering, shoulders heaving.
Every eye turned toward him.
The captain fell silent.
He looked down at his hands… shaking uncontrollably. And then, with a cracked voice that unraveled at the seams, he stammered:
"He… he said… he… dis… integrate… d-disintegrated…"
"The fingers… He said not to touch the fingers!" he wailed, collapsing to his knees.
His sanity, once tethered by duty, crumbled to ash.
He had watched his comrade rot in seconds… not metaphorically, not poetically… but with flesh collapsing, bones folding in, mind unraveling before his eyes.
It had broken something inside him that would never be repaired.
The captain and his men stood frozen, paralyzed by the weight of what they'd just heard.
Then the flap opened again.
Another soldier entered.
He carried something cradled tightly against his chest.
A girl.
A child.
Limp. Dead.
The captain's eyes widened, his pupils dilated, and his eyelids twitched in recoil.
Not just at the sight of her death, but at what remained of her.
She looked deflated.
As if everything that once made her human had been sucked out.
Where muscle and blood should have been, there was only skin… sagging, hollow.
Not torn.
Not broken.
Just… emptied.
Like a balloon, drained of air.
Everyone swallowed.
Hard.
"What is happening here in Aurea?" the captain muttered, his voice barely a breath.
"Where are the buried?"
The soldier holding the girl choked out a sob.
"She was my niece. My whole house. All of them. They're like this."
Not one person beneath the rubble had survived.
Every single one entombed was crushed, not by falling stone, but by something else.
Something everyone entirely missed.
Something grotesque…
Something born of corpses…
It had drained them, not just of blood and flesh, but of their being.
Dreams. Aspirations. Joy. Grief. Rage. Regret.
Everything that made them human, ripped away leaving behind only skin and silence.
The hemogoblin slithered through the forest…
Noone tracking it from behind.
Noone can.
It left a trail of corpse fingers and trudges silently through the night.
"Idris! Look! Don't you think I look good in these garments?"
He twirled the baroness dress he was wearing that once belonged to his late mother, swirling around as he laughed.
Idris collapsed onto the floor, doubled over in laughter, clutching his stomach as he wheezed for air.
"Aww, come on! You don't have to laugh that hard!"
He protested through his own chuckles, swatting Idris in the gut.
"I'm just trying to honor my mother's memory with a little lightheartedness!"
Still catching his breath, Idris wiped tears from his eyes and grinned. "You still got it, old man!"
He scoffed in mock offense, kneeling beside him.
"Alright, alright," Idris said, his voice softening, the laughter fading into fondness.
"You're already beautiful. You didn't have to dress up to prove anything. It's just nice to have a day like this with you."
He reached out, resting a hand over his cheeks.
"You're beautiful just the way you are."
Their laughter faded.
Their gazes met… steady, lingering.
He leaned in.
But before their lips could meet, Idris bolted upright in bed, gasping…
His hand reaching out toward the empty space in front of him.
And finding no one there.
He clenched his fist.
His jaw tightened.
His head went down, his hairs drooped covering his face.
Tears started to fall.
In between sobs, he muttered, "I'll kill her. I will. I'll kill her for you…"