THE HEIRESS VOW - Chapter 185

Chapter 185: The Battle Within
Ava stood face-to-face with her future self, the air thick with tension that vibrated like a taut wire on the verge of snapping. Cold fury burned in the older Ava’s eyes, a harsh, unrelenting storm of resentment. Without a word, without warning, she lunged, her blade cutting through the air with terrifying precision.

The clash was immediate. Ava barely had time to block, her arm shaking from the force of the impact. The older version of her—hardened, relentless—pressed forward, her movements a violent dance of skill and savagery. Ava’s defenses crumbled with each strike, her body reacting out of sheer instinct. Yet, even in the heat of the fight, she could feel it—something darker gnawing at her resolve.

“You always were weak,” her future self spat, her voice laced with contempt. “Always trying, always failing. Pathetic.”

The words cut deeper than the blade ever could. Ava gritted her teeth, fighting not only the woman before her but the bile rising in her throat. Memories stirred—memories she had buried deep. With every clash of their swords, moments from her past flashed before her eyes, twisted and cruel.

“You couldn’t save Zander,” the older Ava hissed, slashing at her once more. “You let him die. And now, you’re paying for it.”

Ava staggered back, her feet slipping on the shattered landscape of her own guilt. Around them, the world was a nightmare—a battlefield filled with ghosts from her past. Dark clouds roiled overhead, casting everything in a sickly, gray light. Each flicker in the sky mirrored her failures, her losses, her pain. It was as if her future self was manipulating the very fabric of her memories, turning them into weapons, each one sharper than the last.

“You’re lying!” Ava shouted, but even she could hear the doubt in her voice. She could feel the truth creeping into her bones, threatening to paralyze her. Every missed swing, every moment she stumbled, she could see it in her future self’s eyes—the pity, the disgust.

“Am I?” the older Ava asked, her smile chilling. “You think you’re fighting to save someone? You think there’s still redemption waiting for you?” Her blade danced again, swift and brutal, forcing Ava back onto the defensive. “You’re fighting because you can’t bear the truth. You’re a coward.”

The battle wove seamlessly with the storm of Ava’s emotions, the physical pain of each strike mingling with the emotional torment. Her future self fought with unrelenting fury, embodying the bitterness Ava had been trying to escape for so long. The older woman’s attacks were not just meant to wound but to humiliate, each blow driving home Ava’s worst fears.

“You never deserved happiness,” the older Ava snarled, twisting her blade just as Ava managed to parry. “You cling to this idea of redemption, of a future where you’re forgiven. But tell me,” she pressed forward, forcing Ava to stumble back again, “who exactly is supposed to forgive you?”

Ava felt her chest tighten, her breath coming in short gasps. With every word, every attack, her future self was tearing her apart—not just physically, but emotionally. The ground beneath her feet seemed to shift, morphing into scenes from her past. The faces of those she’d failed, those who had died because of her, rose like specters from the mist.

Her mother’s face appeared, gaunt and pale, eyes hollow with disappointment. “You promised to save me,” the phantom whispered, her voice a haunting echo. Ava could feel the weight of that broken promise settle on her shoulders, threatening to crush her.

Then there was Zander, standing in the distance, his figure distorted, his voice a whisper of rage. “You let me die,” he said, his words seeping into her skin like poison. “You abandoned me.”

Ava’s knees buckled, her strength faltering as the weight of the memories bore down on her. Her grip on the hilt of her sword loosened as if the very act of holding on was too much.

And then, her future self was there, standing over her, looking down with a sneer. “You think anyone will come to save you? You think someone will pull you from this abyss? Look around, Ava. There’s no one left.” Her voice was a hiss of venom, dripping with disdain. “You are alone. You have always been alone.”

The words echoed in Ava’s mind, her thoughts splintering under the weight of them. It was true, wasn’t it? She had failed everyone she’d ever loved. Every time she tried to hold on, they slipped through her fingers like sand.

“You’ve run from the truth long enough,” the older Ava said, her voice now softer but no less cruel. “And now, it’s time to face it. You are nothing. You’ve always been nothing.”

Ava’s breath hitched as her future self raised her blade for the final strike. Time seemed to slow, her mind a whirlwind of terror and regret. This was how it would end. Alone, defeated, and broken.

But just as the blade came down, a voice pierced through the chaos, cutting through the storm like a shard of light. “Ava!”

It wasn’t her future self’s voice, nor was it the echoes of her past tormenting her. This voice was different—steady, grounded, pulling her out of the mire of her despair. Ava’s eyes snapped open, and she caught sight of a figure in the distance, standing tall against the shifting backdrop of her memories.

The man’s silhouette was sharp, his presence commanding even in the madness that surrounded them. He strode forward with purpose, his eyes fixed on Ava as if she were the only thing that mattered in this twisted realm.

“Ava,” he called again, his voice firm but kind. “This isn’t real.”

For the first time since the battle began, Ava felt a flicker of hope. She turned to face her future self, whose expression darkened with rage. The older Ava glared at the newcomer, her grip on the blade tightening.

“Who is this?” her future self spat, her voice filled with venom. “Another ghost to drag you down?”

Ava blinked, disoriented, but the man’s voice brought her back to herself. “Don’t listen to her, Ava. She’s nothing but the reflection of your fear. You don’t have to fight her.”

His words were like a lifeline, cutting through the fog of doubt that had clouded her mind. Ava shook her head, trying to clear the confusion. “But she—she’s me,” Ava whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “She’s what I’ll become.”

“No,” the man said, stepping closer. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her want to believe him. “She’s what you fear you’ll become. But that’s not your fate. You are more than your past, more than your guilt.”

Ava’s future self snarled, her face twisting with fury. “Don’t you dare listen to him! He doesn’t know what you’ve done, what you’ve lost!”

The man’s gaze never wavered. “Ava, you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Ava felt something shift within her, a tiny crack in the walls she had built around her heart. Could it be true? Could she really let go of the guilt, the pain that had defined her for so long?

Her future self, sensing her hesitation, roared in anger. “You’re weak, Ava! You’ll never escape me!”

But Ava didn’t move. She stood tall, her sword still gripped in her hand, but her focus had shifted. She wasn’t fighting her future self anymore. She was fighting herself—her own fears, her own doubts.

“I’m not weak,” Ava whispered, her voice growing stronger with each word. “I’ve made mistakes, but that doesn’t define who I am.”

Her future self’s expression twisted into one of pure hatred. “You’ll never be free,” she snarled, lunging at Ava with all her fury.

But Ava was ready. With a calm she hadn’t felt in years, she sidestepped the attack and, with a swift motion, disarmed her future self. The blade clattered to the ground, and the older version of Ava fell to her knees, gasping for breath.

Ava stood over her, looking down at the version of herself that had haunted her nightmares for so long. “You’re not my future,” Ava said softly. “You’re just a shadow.”

The older Ava looked up at her, eyes filled with desperation. “You can’t escape me,” she whispered, but the fight was gone from her voice.

Ava knelt down, her hand gentle as she placed it on her future self’s shoulder. “I don’t need to escape you,” she said. “I just need to let you go.”

And with that, the older Ava dissolved into the shadows, her form breaking apart like mist in the wind.

The man who had called out to her stood nearby, watching with quiet intensity. Ava turned to him, her heart still racing from the battle, but her mind clearer than it had been in a long time.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice filled with curiosity and wariness.

The man smiled, though there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Someone who knows what it’s like to fight your demons,” he said simply. He stepped closer, his presence warm and reassuring. “You’re not alone, Ava. Not anymore.”

Ava felt a surge of emotion she hadn’t expected—a mixture of relief, gratitude, and something else she couldn’t quite name. She nodded, her eyes still locked on his.