CHAPTER 557: HER TURNING POINT

The room spun. The ground shifted under her. The air became warmer. The sun shone on her.

They found themselves in a different place. Callista’s outfit and appearance changed once more to blend in.

It looked like a luxury estate, the type she read about in books. Just the sight made her heart feel light. She was in a garden filled with flowers and exotic plants bearing several beautiful fruits.

She was still wearing a maid outfit but a different kind. The sky was clear, and a small basket was in her hand.

Still puzzled, the door burst open and a little ginger girl of around six ran into the garden. The girl’s face was very cute, filled with a smile, eyes bright with curiosity. The last time Callista had seen anyone this happy was when Lucy was alive. The smile was contagious; Callista found herself smiling.

"Mummy!!!" the child chimed, running into the arms of a woman. Callista’s eyes widened on recognising her. It was the woman who had gone unconscious after giving birth. So this was her real mother.

They didn’t have many physical similarities aside from those blue eyes and the same chin.

"How is mummy’s little sunshine doing?" the woman asked the wrong girl. Her eyes filled with tears. Then the whisper came: "That would have been your life, but she stole it from you."

Her grip tightened on the basket. She didn’t know what this claimed saviour wanted to achieve by letting her watch.

The longer she watched, the heavier her heart felt. Her mind kept screaming whenever she saw Rebecca smile carefreely at Abrielle.

Abrielle was happy while her real daughter was going days without food, being called a monster. She didn’t even know the girl by her side wasn’t hers.

Flash after flash—like watching someone’s memory through pages—tore at her. No matter how her body screamed to stop it, she could not do anything.

She even saw Pierre; when she saw him, Callista had all the answers she needed. He was like a female version of her younger father. Same smile.

That witch stole her life. If she hadn’t been there when she was born they wouldn’t have tossed her away.

She hated them all.

A shrieking scream escaped her lips. "Please make it stop. I can’t take it again!!" she begged, tears streaming down her face. It felt like torture; the jealousy was eating her whole.

Her heart could not take it. Abrielle was the one who was meant to be an orphan, not her.

She cried, curled up by the edge of Prince Theodore’s bed. The castle was in flames under attack—none of that mattered to her.

The hooded figure squatted before Callista; a long sigh escaped her lips. "Crying doesn’t change the past."

Callista glanced up, her long silver hair pooling under her. "What do you want?" she asked. Her eyes were bloodshot.

A soft laugh rang. "Do you know what is happening now?" the woman asked. Callista glanced through the window. It was night but the sky was red. The entire city was in flames.

"Draconia’s soldiers are invading," she answered. The hooded figure shook her head. "Close answer, but no."

"Out there is your future beloved. The one who will eventually wipe your tears away is there. He will take you away from all this pain." Callista’s eyes sparkled, believing it.

Something flickered in her eyes and the spark disappeared. She wasn’t that lucky. "That’s a lie. I can’t have such a dream future."

"You are right. The future might not be certain, but that’s how it will be—after going through enough trials you will be happy in the end. But haven’t you had enough? Why do you still have to suffer?" Her words were like venom in Callista’s heart.

Callista listened patiently as the hooded figure gave a summary of the plot of the priestess and the dragons, making sure to note how Abrielle made her life hell. Her face lost every colour...

Tears fell even when she was meant to be happy. That witch would be there to take it from her. "Although the villainess eventually dies, the heroine will go through a lot," the hooded figure’s voice died down. She let Callista digest everything.

"So this world is a novel—my entire life was because it was written that way," she asked, her hatred growing.

"Is this world based on a novel, or is the novel based on this world?" the hooded figure asked back. Callista was taken aback.

Her hand reached out for Callista’s hair, twirling it in her fingers. "Something is too difficult to comprehend, but what I will tell you is that the villains of your story are Abrielle and Hazel. And do you know why?"

Callista had no idea. The woman’s red lips leaned toward her ear to whisper something that left her dumbfounded. "That’s the truth."

"I hate her," Callista screamed.

"You have every right to. Abrielle is your born nemesis."

Callista stared at the ground for a long time before she glanced up. Her voice was steady. "Why are you telling me all this? What are your intentions?" she asked.

Her gloved hand held Callista’s delicate face. "I am the head priestess of the Ladies of the Moon. I want you to be my successor, and you can be powerful like me."

Callista jerked away; images of Lucy’s frozen body flashed in her eyes. "I don’t want power," she blurted, her breath turning erratic.

"But, my dear, without power you can’t get rid of Cedric Von Drakkar’s future wife. Take control of your life; I won’t ask twice." She had two choices: reject the offer and then suffer the fate before her, where she would eventually be happy in someone else’s story—

The other, accept it and have revenge on the person she hated most. At times the devil’s offer isn’t the best, but her heart was already dark.

She took the woman’s hand. She felt a strange surge rush through her. "You are indeed smart. Dear Callista, to change your fate you have to take control. Kill Abrielle."

Once again the room shifted. "The Nightshade estate," Callista gasped. She had never been there officially, but she recognised the halls.

"Yes. Tomorrow is her wedding to Cedric. She has to die today. Can you do that?" the hooded lady asked. The door next to them creaked open; a vial appeared in her hand. Callista was a skilled priestess and immediately knew it was poisoned.

Her feet moved on their own and she entered the bedroom. Lying on the bed was Abrielle; she slept peacefully without a care in the world.

Callista’s throat went dry as she opened the poison. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her mind screamed for her to do it, but her heart found it difficult to take a life—even if that person was her nemesis.