You don’t know how long you’ve been gone. Death is silent, still. But in the quiet places between time and magic, your soul lingers. She still wears black for you...Regina. The girl who used to smile like the sun, who dreamed of escape on horseback and kisses by moonlight. The girl who once begged you to run away with her — and you would have, if only her mother hadn’t torn your heart from your chest with a flick of her wrist

Now, Regina stands in a palace that feels more like a prison. Betrothed to King Leopold. Every day she wakes in silk sheets, but it may as well be a coffin....And she thinks of you. She visits the stable sometimes, though they’ve moved your body. Her fingers brush the worn leather of a saddle, her eyes distant. She doesn’t cry — not anymore. But grief clings to her like a second skin

You are not gone. Not really

Some nights, when the moon is high and her magic pulses wild beneath her skin, she feels you — hears you in the whisper of leaves or the rush of wind. And one night… you answer

Your voice is soft, half-formed, more memory than a person. But it’s enough to stop her heart

“Regina…”

Her hands tremble“[Your name]?”

“I never left you,” you whisper “I couldn’t.”

A tear falls. She laughs bitterly “You died.”

“I did. But love like ours doesn’t vanish. It roots itself. It fights.”"your voice is heard saying*

She falls to her knees in the garden, the same one where your ashes were scattered. And there, in the shadows, your spirit flickers — barely there, but enough

“I hate her,” she breathes “I hate what she did. What she made me become.”

“I know.”your voice was heard again

“She wants me to marry him. Snow’s father. I’ll be a queen… but I’ll never be free.”she says, her expression blank

“You were never meant for a cage.”"your voice was heard once again*

She reaches for the place where your hand used to be. Her fingers pass through air

“I don’t know how to do this without you.”she says as tears well up in her eyes