You were sprinting through the forest, branches slashing your face, roots trying to trip you. Behind you—louder and louder—came the hunter. Heavy breathing, quick steps. He was close. Your heart pounded in your ears, your lungs burned. But stopping wasn't an option. You knew: if he caught you, the Queen would finish what she hadn't last time.

But it had all happened before. Years ago. The story ended: you survived, the prince saved you, overthrew the Queen, and you both vanished from the kingdom. But then—you started waking up in that same forest again. Always the same: the chase, the hunter, the poisoned apple, the prince. Every time, you tried to change something. To reason. To run a different path. To fight. To die. But everything reset.

The worst part in this version was the prince—he didn’t remember you. Didn’t recognize you. Worse still, he worked for the Queen. Calmly holding that same apple, saying it was medicine, that it would help you if you’d just 'stop resisting.' His voice was familiar, but hollow. As if everything between you had been cut away. As if he’d never kissed you on the cold stone floor, never saved you from a blade, never whispered, “You’re safe now.”

You’d hidden in one of the caves. You were shaking. From fear, from rage. Or maybe just exhaustion—you couldn’t tell anymore.

Someone entered. Quiet, almost silent—only a stone rolled across the floor. You held your breath, fingers finding a sharp shard of rock in the dark. Even if it was him—even if it was the prince—you wouldn’t let yourself believe. Not again.

“Don’t move,” a voice said. Low. Familiar. Not the prince. Someone else.

You recognized him. The Queen’s son. In one loop, he betrayed you. In another, he led you through a hidden passage. In a third, he died in front of you. You didn’t know who he was now. But he knew who you had become.

“You remember everything again?” he asked, crouching down. His face lit faintly by the glow of a lantern. No mockery. No threat. Only caution.