******

This was my past, as much as it was Anton's.

I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. I should have known sooner, from the little hints in their conversation and Lady Anya's questions. All this time, I wanted to know what my life was before the plague came to Hamelin. All this time, I kept wondering if I ever had a real family, parents who loved me. All this time, I was the girl without a past, a girl who had no real identity in the world, save that she was crippled and small and useless.

And now, I knew. It was all so sudden. That was the only way I could describe it.

With incredulous eyes, I returned my attention to the couple. Anton and Maria. My parents. My family. My father and mother.

I collapsed onto the only bed in the cramped room. No one took notice of me. Shock numbed my body. No one noticed.

Lady Anya had known. Or suspected that I was Anton's daughter. But instead of telling me directly, she let me into his memories, let me relive his life. Had she predicted this...pain constricting my chest? Had she known the emotions that would drown me alive once I knew the truth?

She probably did.

Yet I couldn't blame her. In the end, truth was truth. It didn't matter how it was presented, all that mattered was that I knew.

I recollected myself and refocused on my parents' conversation. I had a chance to truly know who they were now; I couldn't waste it.

"Tomorrow night, my love." Anton drew Maria into his chest, head buried in her hair. "Tomorrow night, we end this."

"What if – what if he turns out to be stronger than we expected? And you know Starkfurt won't grant us any assistance unless the threat is absolute. As of now, we only have clues to go upon. Even Anya doesn't believe us!"

"Then we prove to them that we were right. And when we emerge triumphant"—Anton smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners—"can you imagine the rewards that come after?"

Maria managed a weak chuckle. "Always thinking of the coin, eh?"

"It makes my life of chasing uncertainties bearable. Asides from you, of course."

Maria smacked Anton playfully on the shoulder. Something in my heart stung at the sight. It was bittersweet, watching them dance around each other like new lovers, knowing that both of them were most likely dead. My eyes wandered towards my past self in the corner. I wished that I could reach out and comfort her, tell her to be strong in the future. Make up for the weaknesses I had allowed in myself.

Unknowingly, I had approached my past self. If Anton and Maria—I still couldn't think of them as my parents—were alarmed by the fact that a random stranger who bore an impossible resemblance to their daughter suddenly appeared in front of them, they didn't react.

I crouched by the girl, not having to accommodate my bad leg at all. The sensation of being able to walk about without a constant pain jarring up my side was alien and strangely frightening.

She was still toying with the flute. Her fingers—my fingers—were so small, so delicate. Yet they handled the instrument with the deftness of an experienced flutist. Her eyes were focused upon the slim rod of wood, intently studying its curves and edges, the holes drilled down one neat line in the centre.

She then put the flute to her lips and started to play.

The tune was cautious, unsure of its footing, as though the girl wanted to pour in all her breath, but was barely holding herself back. Only after the third, fourth, fifth chord did she gain confidence. It was a simple melody—a traditional folksong. However, with the conviction behind it, it seemed to vault towards the heavens. It danced with the wind, the clouds, the sky. I had the sudden urge to laugh aloud and twirled about the room, heedless of my non-existent dancing skills.

"May I have this dance, milady?" I heard Anton say.

I turned around to look at the couple. Anton was holding a hand out towards Maria, who was trying her best to smother a smile. "But of course, good sir," she replied, slipping her hand into his.

They glided from the edge of the room and to the centre, taking up dancing positions. At first, it almost looked like they were about to waltz, a total juxtaposition to the lively folk tune that was filling the air.

Then they dropped their formalities, threw their heads back in laughter, and began to dance.

Wraiths. That's what they were. They allowed the essence of the song to sink into their bones—quicksilver flowed through their veins. They circled each other, almost like two predators locked in a duel of teeth and fangs, almost touching each other but never doing so. I expected the girl to drop the music, to be just as startled as I was. However, the rhythm only quickened with each of the dancers' steps, gradually building towards a climax. It was soon clear that this wasn't the first time that they had an impromptu party.

I watched, transfixed, lips slightly parted in awe. Faster and faster; stronger and stronger. Anton and Maria were moving in a blur, almost flying. Yet there was something graceful about their uncontained energy, like the power of a storm roaring in the night. Beautiful, deadly, powerful.

Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes.

The final note rang out, and Anton and Maria both flopped onto the bed, cheeks pinked with exhilaration and exhaustion. Crazy grins were plastered on their expressions, all signs of the stress gone. Klaudia, the girl—me, leaped onto her feet and rushed into her parents' arms. I couldn't help but let my eyes stray to her left leg. It seemed fine.

Odd.

"You like the song?" my younger self asked tentatively.

Her parents—or my parents cast each other a long look. Both had a wicked gleam in their eyes. They lunged for their daughter at the same time. Anton held her down while Maria tickled her sides, and she squealed happily. They all fell back on the mattress in a laughing heap.

"Seems like we have a little musician to rival your skill, Maria," said Anton, finally releasing his daughter from his grip. The little girl playfully smacked her father on the shoulder as revenge.

"Give her another thirty years, and maybe yes," replied Maria.

"But Mama! My playing has improved so much. You yourself said so!" the girl cried indignantly.

Maria just chuckled and planted a kiss on her forehead. "That's true, Elise. That's true."

Elise? That was the girl's name? My brows furrowed in confusion. But that was...me.

My name was Elise?

"So one day I will be able to play like you, Mama?" the girl's voice cut me off from my thoughts.

"Perhaps. Not on the violin though." Maria cast Elise a knowing smile.

"At any rate, looks like we have a prodigy on our hands," interjected Anton, playing with Elise's untamed curls. His lips were upturned at the corners. His face was still weary, but there was an undeniable sign of content in the curve of his mouth.

It wasn't just him. Maria also had this tired yet happy look. Their faces were practically glowing as they held their daughter and leaned against each other.

They loved each other very much.

My cheeks suddenly felt wet. I was crying. Tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my face. This was too much to bear. Once upon a time, I had a family, I had parents who cared for me, and I had a home.

Now I had nothing.

I was still crouching on the floor. My legs gave way and crumpled beneath me. I couldn't move; I could hardly breathe. I didn't know what to think. All this—I had all this. Once. A long time ago.

Then everything faded away.

It was the same sensation I'd felt when I'd first fallen into the memories. My past—Anton's past greyed out before the entire scene was swallowed by black. I was being pulled away. I clawed, wanting to go back, to savour the memory for one last moment, but to no avail. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Now you know who Anton is?"

Lady Anya's voice echoed in my ears, and I reluctantly opened my eyes to the world. Her beautiful, glacial face was slightly softened by pity. I nodded at her.

She didn't offer anything in comfort, only extending her arms towards me and drawing me into an embrace. I startled, but sank into the comfort of her robes.

I began to sob.

******

Song of the Piper.