Gerah stood before the cracked mirror, heart racing. The reflection had changed again—no longer Mara, no longer herself. It now showed a blurred figure wearing her crown, but the face was lost in static, like an unwritten page struggling to form.
She backed away.
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“Am I losing my story… or being written out of it?”
In the grand ballroom, the royal family hosted a sudden celebration—an announcement was to be made.
Everyone gathered, including Prince Xavier, Jiru, Dahlia, Anya, and Mara, who appeared radiant in gold and emeralds.
Then the royal adviser stepped forward:
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> “Tonight, we honor a noble woman chosen to represent the future of our kingdom. By royal decree, the prince shall now be engaged to—”
Gerah took a deep breath.
> “—Lady Mara, daughter of General Alvez.”
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The crowd gasped.
Even Xavier’s brows furrowed. “What?”
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Mara stepped forward with the elegance of a rehearsed queen, bowing with a smirk.
“I’m honored… to finally claim what has always been mine.”
Gerah’s heart sank—but she didn’t cry. Not this time.
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That night, Marco, Jiru’s friend, found Gerah sitting alone at the palace balcony.
“You okay?” he asked.
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Gerah looked up, a faint smile on her lips.
“They said I was a side character. But even the quietest pages… still hold truth.”
Marco looked at her—longer than usual.
“You’re more than what they say.”
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Meanwhile, Xavier stormed into the royal archives, throwing open books. Something didn’t feel right.
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“Mara was never the one,” he whispered. “The prophecy… it mentioned a girl from another world.”
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He pulled out the enchanted manuscript—the one written by Gerah—and noticed new ink writing itself across the page.
“The crown doesn’t fit because it was forged for a girl who never wanted it.”
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He closed the book.
And ran.
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In her dimly it room, Mara touched her newly given crown in front of a mirror.
But unlike before, her reflection didn't smile back.
Instead—it whispered:
“You're not the real heir.”
Mara’s hand trembled.
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