Aria recalled the memories of the past. She knew what she was and she knew who her enemies were. All she knew was that death took her the moment she committed suicide over his grave. She was the first and the original - as she likes to believe and yet she was in another body. No, just a Song Maiden, but better than being a War Maiden, corrupted, cold, and born to fight until eternity’s end.

Surrender yourself to the cycle, she thought. To gain power there must be an equivalent exchange and that exchange is to be trapped in a cycle. She hated it. She saw the exchange of the shadows. The image of herself, tempted by power, and fragments of memories.

You are free at last, she thought, looking at Amadan. Another fragment, like me, but still the same to the core, strong-hearted and easily fooled by a woman who would give him hope. Foolish man, even in this new life you still come looking for me. You won’t leave me alone, won’t you? That’s fine, I won’t either. I suspect that sadist won’t either.

The woman who merged with the memories of the War Maiden. She was here, but different in a way that she only took the memories of the previous past. The memories of madwomen who grew mad when they were drunk of power. Those who thought they could save more than they could handle.

Never evil, she thought. Just a misguided fool who thinks that she could save more. It was never about power - and it was never about being powerful. It was about saving those who could not save themselves. Still, to think she would force her Bleak Walker, the love of her life through so much pain and anguish.

Not like I am any better, she thought. Thirty-years, how can this man endure so well? Not after what I did to him, and the harshest things. These memories are mine. Not hers, they do not belong to the War Maiden who merged with others. She was the original and damn the heavens if it doesn’t agree with her.

They replicated my memories, took it for themselves, and ended up falling anyway. She thought. The tugged from a distant place was charming her. It demanded to come and join. She refused. She wasn’t going to become a part of the War Maidens again.

I’ve had my fill of that role, she thought. I had done what I can and I failed in that role. Do you think that I’d be willing to become a part of such madness? I’ve fought with all that I have and realized what I truly wanted. The woman that tugged for her had realized the same. Foolish woman! She snarled. I will not be part of such a cycle. I had done what I could to and had abandoned all I have for a dream that was finished by others.

She felt the pain of a mother in that tugging. She knew the pain well and had a sense of it. But hers was real and the other hers was nothing other than a lure and a bait for the Bleak Walker. She couldn’t understand why.

Amadan was a busy man who did most of the work around the house. Although she had awakened memories of a past life, she was Aria, and she wasn’t going to let go. Though she had to deal with her heart beating faster than usual when she sees Amadan.

He looks better, she thought. Better than what she saw in her last life. Still, she recalled the look of Amadan, that grizzled man whose looks shamed others. The grizzled veteran who noblewomen would stop to look at, cheeks flushing, red like roses as he stood towering. He grew into a fine man and age didn’t slow him down.

He looks fit, she thought. I can guess that there must be something that had happened. Fragment, he’s one, but this one retained the strength of his predecessor, luckier than him. Obsidian coated bones, and flesh that could stop steel. He was fortunate compared to the man she knew.

He worked his way to the top, fought with gritted teeth, and I underestimated him too much. I thought he would never survive, and he did, pestering me for years, making me worry for a stubborn fool who doesn’t know when to give up. I wonder when will he try to make a move. It would be something to look forward to.

She realized that her cheeks were burning. She breathes through her nose and set her jaws, stared at her white lance, and continued her white lance’s dance, forcing the troubles away. She’ll be coming for me, I know that she will, and I need to be ready. I can summon some of my powers and the songs of power reside. As long as I have the white lance then I can defend myself from the power of that imitator.

The tugged got stronger. She held on to her white lance and started the dance of the white lance. She swung her hips and bent her waist as she dances without care. When she woke from her trance, she saw Amadan staring, cheeks flushed, and eyes staring at her. She grinned, and danced, emphasizing her hips. The poor man turned his eyes away, scratching his head in embarrassment.

Aria stopped her dance and slumped on the chair placed near the door. Amadan passed by her and then came back holding a filled mug. He offered the mug and she took it. Drinking the mug, she realized that it was sweet, and she recalled how she loved this.

Amadan didn’t say anything and sauntered to the direction just outside of the forest. He carried his pack to probably find some log. There were little monsters in the vicinity and with her memories back. Aria didn’t hold back in slaughtering the dire beasts that were spread around the town. She held no mercy against those who lurk in the dark and even in this second chance in life as the true her. She will not falter in that belief that she had held until her death.