The Daughter of Valancaire

(Jessa Lia Valancaire @ 8yrs old)

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft silver glow through the thick curtains. Jessa lay on her back, her eyes closed, but her mind was restless. The world around her was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves outside her window. Sleep had come easily tonight, but the dreams—*the dreams were different*. 

The garden was bright, bathed in the soft warmth of sunlight. She was standing there, barefoot, the grass cool beneath her feet, and the air thick with the scent of flowers. Everything was peaceful—quiet—*familiar*. 

She turned slowly, her gaze falling on a small figure playing near the flowerbed. The boy was crouched down, his small hands sifting through the soil. His hair shone a bright golden blonde in the sun. 

It *looked* like Jace. 

A flicker of recognition stirred in her chest, but a part of her hesitated. Could it truly be him? After everything, her memories were so fractured—jumbled, pieces lost in the shadows. She didn’t remember his face clearly, not like she should have. But there was something about this boy, this figure, that felt... *right*. His smile, his laugh, the way he turned toward her with that familiar sparkle in his eyes.

“Jessa!” he called, and his voice was high and excited, filled with a warmth she couldn’t place. “Look what I found!”

She blinked, drawing closer, but as she did, doubt crept in. She didn’t *know* for sure that it was him. But the bond between them, the inexplicable sense of connection—*that* felt undeniable. Could it be? Could she really be seeing him, so clearly, so vividly, even after everything?

She crouched beside him, trying to ignore the lingering uncertainty that tugged at her heart. “What is it?” she asked, her voice soft with curiosity, her smile involuntary. This child, *this boy*, brought her something close to joy—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

The boy held something out in his palm, something small and silver. “It’s from the statue!” he said, voice filled with a quiet thrill.

She looked at the object, but before she could ask what it was, she felt a pull, a tug of energy at the back of her mind. Her gaze shifted toward the stone statue at the far edge of the garden. The lion, wings spread, perched on a pedestal. 

Her heart quickened. She couldn’t quite explain it, but something about the statue was... *alive*.

“It’s glowing,” she whispered, stepping closer, her feet barely making a sound against the grass. A strange light pulsed from the statue’s eyes, faint at first, but then growing stronger, brighter. 

Jace—or whoever this was, for the confusion lingered—looked over at the statue with wide eyes. “Do you see it too? The light?”

“I—" Jessa started, unsure of how to explain it. The light wasn’t normal, she knew that much. There was something *off* about it, something she couldn’t place. It felt... *wrong*. The garden, the statue—it all seemed a bit too unreal, as though it were a dream that hadn’t yet ended. The boy beside her was too familiar, yet he wasn’t. She didn’t have the full memories to make sense of it.

Jessa reached out, drawn by the light, but as her fingers neared the stone surface of the statue, a jolt of pain shot through her. A sharp, searing feeling—not physical, but mental—pierced her skull, making her gasp. Her vision blurred, her whole body trembled as a powerful, overwhelming force seemed to press against her mind. 

“No!” she cried out, falling back. The world around her spun. Her breath came in quick gasps. 

“Jessa!” the boy—*Jace*—screamed. He grabbed her shoulders, panic flooding his voice. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

She tried to focus, to speak, but the world swam around her. Everything felt distant, like a dream she couldn’t control. The light. The pain. She could feel herself slipping. 

“*Jessa!*” he cried again, his hands shaking as he desperately shook her. His voice was familiar, but the panic in it made her heart skip. “Stay with me! Please—stay with me!”

Her head throbbed as if something were ripping through her, and then, suddenly, it stopped. The pain, the buzzing in her skull, the sense of being torn apart—all of it ceased as quickly as it had come. She blinked and gasped, disoriented, her body slumping against the grass, the warmth of the sunlight suddenly too much.

She was back in the garden, the world still around her, but something had changed. That connection she had felt with Jace was there, but now there was a *difference*—an emptiness, a distance. A cold knot in her stomach told her that whatever had just happened, it was far from over.

The boy—*Jace?*—was kneeling beside her, eyes wide with concern, his hands trembling as they hovered near her. “Are you okay? Please... tell me you’re okay.”

Jessa stared up at him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She blinked again, trying to steady her racing heart. But the doubts returned. Was this really Jace? Her twin? She had no memories of this moment—of this *place*. Only fragments, flashes of faces and feelings, but nothing concrete. She couldn’t even remember her own childhood clearly. How could she trust this dream? How could she trust herself?

“I—” Jessa struggled to sit up, still shaken, her fingers pressed to her temples as if trying to hold herself together. “I’m fine. I just... I don’t know what happened. The light from the statue—it... it *hurt*.”

Her gaze shifted to the statue again. The light had faded, leaving only the pale stone behind. There was no trace of the glowing, eerie presence that had nearly overwhelmed her. It felt so... *empty* now. And yet, her skin tingled with the residual feeling of it, like a ghost that refused to leave.

“I don’t remember what happened,” she whispered, almost to herself. She glanced back at the boy—at Jace—and saw the worry on his face. His blond hair fell into his eyes, and his freckled face was pale with concern. She felt a pang deep in her chest, a flutter of longing that only made the doubt grow sharper.

He was so *familiar*, and yet so *distant*. But was this the real Jace? The twin she had been separated from? Or was this just another manifestation of her fractured memories?

The boy’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Whatever that was, it wasn’t normal. You need to be careful, Jessa. Something’s wrong with the statue, with the light. It—” His voice caught, as though he was going to say more, but he stopped himself. “We should leave. It's not safe.”

She nodded, still dazed, but unsure of whether she was agreeing because she truly felt that way, or because it was simply the right thing to do. The garden, once a place of comfort, now felt *too* still, too heavy with something she couldn’t place. Something dark, *waiting*.

“I—” Jessa swallowed, her throat dry. “I don’t know if I can trust any of this. If any of this is real.”

Jace gave her a quiet, understanding look, though his expression was laced with something more—an emotion she couldn’t quite name, but that felt strangely *familiar*.

“I understand,” he said softly, his voice filled with something like sorrow. “But whatever happens, Jessa... we’ll face it together.”

---

Jessa awoke with a start, gasping for breath, her heart pounding in her chest. The remnants of the dream clung to her like mist, the images fading but never completely disappearing. The boy. The statue. The light. The pain.

It felt so real, so vivid—yet she couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that something was wrong. She was alone in her room, the quiet of the night pressing in on her, but in her chest, there was an unmistakable feeling that something *dangerous* had been stirred.

And with it, a deep, unsettling question: **Was it a dream? Or had the past truly reached out to her?**