Trapped In a World I Created

Once she was bathed, Agatha helped Elle into a loose gown designed for sleeping. The room was dimly lit, the candles flickering weakly as if they would extinguish any moment. Seated on a stool in front of the mirror, Elle could barely make out her own reflection in the gloom.

As Agatha brushed her hair, the gentle tug of the comb felt oddly comforting. "Could you bring me more candles?" Elle asked, her voice soft, almost fragile.

Agatha paused, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Yes, dear. Let me settle you into bed first, and then I'll fetch some." Her tone was warm as she began braiding Elle's long hair. "You know, you have such lovely straight hair. If we curled it a little, it would look even more beautiful."

The words stirred a bittersweet ache in Elle's chest. It reminded her of her mother, who used to say the same thing while brushing her hair. Her throat tightened, but she only nodded silently, not trusting her voice.

Once Agatha finished, she guided Elle to the bed and helped her sit down. "Rest here. I'll be back with the candles." With a reassuring smile, Agatha excused herself, closing the door behind her with a faint creak.

Left alone, Elle exhaled shakily. The stillness in the room felt suffocating. Rising from the bed, she moved toward the windows, her bare feet brushing against the cold floor. Her heart thudded against her ribs as unease crept into her thoughts. Was someone there?

Pushing aside her fear, she began pulling back the heavy curtains, one by one. The moonlight poured in, bathing the room in silvery light and banishing the murky shadows. Yet as the room grew brighter, a deeper shadow seemed to linger, just at the edge of her vision. She froze, her breath hitching, but when she turned to look, the space was empty.

Shaking her head, she faced the mirror. she hesitated for a moment, her hands trembling slightly as she reached up to touch her face. The dim glow illuminated her features, and she leaned closer, squinting at her reflection.

It was her.

The same reddish-brown hair that fell straight down her back in neat braids, the same blue eyes that often sparkled with hidden mischief but now looked tired and hollow, the faint acne scars dotting her cheeks. Her chest tightened, and she ran her fingers over her reflection, as if expecting the glass to crack or reveal someone else.

"Why...?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with confusion.

Her fingers trembled as she traced a long, jagged line on her arm. These scars—real and familiar—were her own. But why were they still there if this was Nova, the world she had written? She had created a perfect, unmarred version of herself for this character, yet here she was, the same as she had always been.

Her breathing quickened as the weight of it all came crashing down. "Why would this world... take me as I am?" she muttered, clutching the edge of the table for support.

But then something caught her attention—a faint movement in the corner of the mirror. Her reflection hadn't moved. It was still staring back at her, frozen. Yet, in the dim moonlight, she could see a shadow behind her, just out of focus.

Her chest seized with terror. She spun around quickly, her hair whipping around her face. The room was empty.

"Get a grip," she whispered to herself, her voice shaky. "You're just imagining things."

But as her eyes darted back to the mirror, she felt her blood run cold. The shadow was still there, faint but distinct, lingering as if watching her.

The door creaked open suddenly, shattering her thoughts. Elle jumped, clutching the gown tightly against her chest, her pulse racing. Agatha stood in the doorway, holding a small candelabra, her calm presence a stark contrast to Elle's frayed nerves.

Agatha stepped inside and began lighting the candles on the tray. The soft glow pushed back the shadows, but Elle still couldn't shake the sensation of being watched. As Agatha worked, Elle mulled over whether to ask if this room had... history. Like, the kind involving ghost stories. But she clamped her mouth shut. Asking about mysterious presences might make her sound unhinged.

Instead, she decided she had a bigger puzzle to solve: Was this really Nova, the world she had created in her novel? And more importantly, if it was Nova, how was it different from her story?

Her brain churned, grasping for proof. Then it hit her—heliotrope. The hidden garden she'd written into Nova. It was a secluded place, a symbol of secrets between the crown prince and her character. If she could find it, she'd know this was Nova. But there was a catch: the garden was accessible only through the crown prince's chambers, and that chamber through crystal corridor.

Agatha finished lighting the room and turned to leave when Elle blurted out, "Uhh... do you know if there's a heliotrope garden here?" She winced internally. Smooth, Elle. Real subtle.

Agatha paused, frowning as she considered the question. "Heliotrope? No, I don't believe we have such a garden. Have you heard of it before?"

"Oh, um, no! Not really." Elle's nervous laugh escaped before she could stop it. "I just thought... you know... maybe." She waved her hand vaguely, hoping it was enough to derail the topic.

Agatha gave her a curious glance but didn't press further. "Alright, then. You should rest now. You've had quite the day." With that, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

As the lock clicked into place, Elle's mind raced. No one knows about the garden? Of course, they don't! Only the crown prince and I—err, the character version of me—know about it. Which means... I'll have to find it myself. But how?

She chewed her lip, pacing the room. The prince's chambers are just a few rooms away, if I remember the layout correctly. Somewhere in crystal corridor... but sneaking into his room? That's basically asking for death. Or worse.

Her thoughts spiraled into absurd scenarios. Maybe I could bribe a guard. Or disguise myself as a maid. No, too obvious. Or... maybe I just kill him. Yes, that's efficient. Quick stab, one dead prince, and hello garden of secrets. She paused mid-pace. Okay, Elle, calm down. Murder is not step one.

Her plotting was interrupted by her body's exhaustion. She slumped onto the bed, her racing thoughts lulling her into uneasy sleep.

The first rays of morning filtered into the room, gentle but insistent. A knock at the door pulled her from her slumber, followed by Agatha's voice. "Wake up, miss. You've been summoned by His Highness, the crown prince."

Elle bolted upright, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest. Summoned? By him? Already? Panic flooded her system, eclipsing any remaining drowsiness.