Description

A forgotten legend. A cursed birthday. A stolen life.

Constance has always whispered her name-Mazipul-the witch who was burned at the stake in 1437, only to return, century after century, in a new body, a new face... but always the same soul.

I never believed the stories. Not really. They were myths, local folklore. Until I celebrated my sixteenth birthday with a party themed after the legend-and fell into a coma the next day.

When I woke up weeks later, nothing felt the same. My body was healing, but something else was shifting. My reflection grew unfamiliar. My dreams turned to nightmares. And then one day, I looked in the mirror... and someone else stared back.

She took my face. My voice. My life.

Now I am trapped, unseen, unheard, while Mazipul walks the world again in my skin. And I don't know if I'll ever get it back.