Amira of Ironclad Empire

The corridors of the Hedenberg palace, with their cold stone and echoing halls, were a labyrinth of memories. As a child, they had been my playground—filled with laughter, the shuffle of footsteps, and my mother's warm voice calling my name. But after her sudden death, they became a prison of shadows.

My mother, Helga, was the center of my world. Her laughter could brighten even the darkest corners, and her gentle strength was a balm to my young soul. But after her death, everything fell apart. My father grew colder, and my brothers became more calculating. The prophecy that haunted our family—that Helga's child would bring ruin to the house of Hedenberg—turned me into a target.

Adira, my mother's closest friend and a mage of extraordinary skill, saved me. Her magic protected me from the daggers aimed at my back, and her wisdom guided me as my aura began to manifest. But even Adira couldn't shield me from everything. After an assassination attempt nearly ended my life, she made a decision: we had to leave Hedenberg.

We fled to a strange world—Korea. Time moved differently there; the flow of days and years felt foreign, almost detached from the rhythm of our homeland. I was only five when we arrived, and everything about Korea felt overwhelming. Adira found work as a secretary for a man named Claude Davis, an expat businessman who owned a manufacturing company. At first, I didn't understand why she took the job. But I soon realized that she wasn't just running from danger—she was searching for something to hold on to, a place to rebuild her shattered life.

Claude was charming and ambitious, a man who carried himself with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how to bend the world to his will. He and Adira grew close during those early years in Korea. I noticed the shift in her—a quiet hope mingled with the sadness she carried. Though she rarely spoke of it, I knew she longed for something more than the endless running and hiding that had defined our lives.

One day, Adira returned home with a glow I hadn't seen in years—even when we were in Hedenberg. She didn't say much, but her actions spoke volumes. She prepared for something—or someone. And then, not long after, she told me she was expecting a child. Amira. The name felt significant, as though it carried a weight that only Adira understood.

By the time Adira gave birth, I was six years old. She explained that something complicated happened between her and Claude, so I shouldn't expect him to be in our lives. When I first saw Amira, I felt nothing. She was small, loud, and utterly helpless. Adira adored her, but I couldn't understand why. I kept my distance, treating her with a detached indifference that Adira never commented on. She was just a baby, and I had no interest in being part of her world.

As Amira grew, we moved from town to town, and I found out Claude was after us. She also became a constant presence in my life—a presence I hadn't asked for. She was curious and stubborn, always following me around, always asking questions. I tolerated her, but I didn't make it easy for her. I brushed off her questions, dismissed her attempts to play, and ignored her when she tried to catch my attention.

But time has a way of changing things. When Amira reached adulthood, everything shifted. While I was working and studying at the same time, she had grown into a spirited, determined young adult with an infectious energy that was impossible to ignore. While preparing for her college qualifiers, she no longer sought my approval the way she had as a child. Instead, she challenged me, defied me, and forced me to see her in a new light.

Her presence began to feel less like a burden and more like something I couldn't live without. I noticed the way her laughter filled a room, the way her stubbornness matched her mother's. She had a way of drawing people in, of making them feel like they belonged—even me.

I didn't realize how much I cared for her until it was too late.

One day, I came home after my shift, and Amira wasn't there. I tried calling her phone, but her number couldn't be reached. I tried again and again, but I only heard the same busy signal. Anxiety and worry lingered all over me. We had just lost Adira, and now, I was afraid something had happened to Amira.

I reported her missing to the nearby police station, but they told me it had to be 24 hours since her disappearance. I didn't know if it had been that long. I had been at work, distracted by my studies.

Days passed, then weeks, months, and even years, but there was no trace of Amira. I bought the apartment we lived in, hoping that if she came back, she would still find me there. Years later, after graduating as a general practitioner, I worked at a nearby hospital while taking a part-time job at a manufacturing company to stay busy.

Then one day, I saw her again.

She was nothing like the Amira I had known. Her face was emotionless, her movements deliberate. She walked out of the building where I was working as an Assistant Vice President. I tried to approach her, but her work was demanding, and I failed every time.

But one evening, I saw her walking aimlessly through the streets. She looked lost, her eyes red, as though she were about to cry. I called her name—"Amira." She stopped, her back stiffening.

I walked closer, my heart pounding as I saw her swollen cheek. Claude. It had to be him. "Let's sit," I said, guiding her to a nearby bench.

I knelt in front of her, pulling an ice pack from my bag and gently pressing it to her cheek. "This will help with the swelling," I said softly.

She didn't respond. Her eyes stared into the distance, her thoughts a million miles away. I tried to ask her what happened, but she remained silent, clutching the ice pack as though it were the only thing tethering her to reality.

"You shouldn't have to endure this, Amira - No, Katherine..." I said softly while anger and care blended into the sound of my voice.

"Thank you.." She whispered and that made my heart leap a beat. That was the first time she spoke directly to me. The shock remained as the silence grew stronger between us.

I stayed with her, silent and steady. Plans formed in my mind—ways to help her, to get her away from Claude. But she didn't say a word. These memories lingered with me, but the conversations we had after that were a bit blurry but still felt familiar at the same time.

All I could do was wait.

Present Time

The day had been long, but the evening proved longer still. I was supposed to be on my way back to my small rented room when a frantic shop assistant raced up to me, breathless and wide-eyed.

"Mr. Alex, please—you have to come! He's bleeding badly. I don't know what to do!"

My heart pounded once. I couldn't ignore an injury; it went against everything Adira had ever taught me. "Take me to him," I said, already retrieving my medical kit from my satchel.

He led me behind a nearby shop. The alley was dim, its walls streaked with shadows from the waning sun. The injured man clutched his arm—blood seeped between his fingers.

I knelt quickly, cleaning and disinfecting the wound. "Stay still," I murmured, voice low and steady. He winced as I stitched him up, but I offered what reassurance I could. This part never gets easier, I thought, recalling past battles and casualties.

Just as I wrapped the bandage, soft footsteps caught my ear. I glanced up—and my heart jolted. Half-hidden near the alley's entrance was Amira. She was watching me, her expression torn between curiosity and caution. An old warmth fluttered in my chest, accompanied by the ache of memories she no longer shared.

I handed the shopkeeper a vial of salve, giving him instructions as his assistant hovered anxiously. But I couldn't help sneaking glances at Amira. Does she recognize me at all?

Then a loud whisper from behind her made her whirl around: "Captain?!" a man hissed. She scowled, clearly annoyed at being followed. Her glare alone could feel a lesser knight, I thought wryly.

The knights stepped into the alley, their armor glinting. One of them—Sir Cedric, if I recall correctly—spoke up the moment he noticed me. "Doctor Alex! What are you doing here? Patchin' up another poor soul?"

I nodded, slipping my supplies back into my bag. Before I could answer, Amira turned. Our eyes met for a split second. She quickly looked away, as though she couldn't stand to hold my gaze. A stabbing disappointment mingled with resignation. I have to remember—she doesn't know me the way I know her…

Cedric pressed on, far too gleeful. "Did you know, Captain," he teased, speaking to Amira, "Doctor Alex here has helped the knights at the Imperial Palace before during the war five years ago or even the attacks? He's a lifesaver."

The younger knights snickered as they caught sight of Amira's reddening cheeks. One of them whispered (not so discreetly).

"Was the Captain watching the good doctor?" Another added, "Careful, Captain, or we'll have to start filing romance reports instead of combat ones."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks at their banter, though I tried not to show it. It's been a long time since I last saw her blush…

Amira's voice cut through their teasing like a blade. "No," she said stiffly. "Let's go."

But Cedric raised a brow, exchanging knowing glances with the others. "Interesting…" he murmured.

Amira's ears turned bright red. "Fall in line," she demanded, marching off, though her knights continued to banter behind her.

"Captain, was it love at first sight?"

"Or maybe a long-lost lover?"

She whirled around, golden lightning flickering at her fingertips. I'd seen that aura before, but never with such raw power. The knights leaped back as she snapped, "Do you want to file that report now?!"

Cedric laughed nervously. "No need for a demolition, Captain. We surrender!" He cast me a wink as if to say, You see what we deal with?

Amira rolled her eyes. "Just… go," she growled, dismissing them. She stole one last glance at me—brief, but it felt like a single heartbeat of acknowledgment. Then she disappeared into the crowded plaza, her knights hurrying after her.

As I watched her disappear into the crowded plaza, the ache in my chest deepened. Amira—no, Katherine—was just a shadow of the vibrant girl I once knew, but there was still a spark of her somewhere deep inside.

I couldn't help but wonder if she felt the same stirrings of familiarity, the way my presence unsettled her. Yet I couldn't rush this. Her memories were like a delicate tapestry, frayed at the edges. One wrong move and the threads might unravel entirely.

For now, I would wait. I had waited this long, after all. But my resolve didn't make the weight any easier to bear.

Someday, I promised silently, as I turned away and let the shadows of the night swallow me whole. Someday, you'll remember.