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**She answered a phone call from her own number.**At first, she thought it was a glitch. But when the static cleared and her own voice whispered, “Go now,” she didn’t ask questions. That’s when I got up, pulled on my coat, and stepped out into the rain. My name is Sarah. This is a story about the night everything changed. I was just me—just this quiet, uncertain version of myself who always watched from the sidelines. But I wanted more. Not fame or fortune. Just…something *real*. Something *powerful*. I wanted to become someone I could believe in. So I followed a whisper and an old rumor to the edge of town, where the streets narrow and time gets strange. That’s where Lady Volute lives. They say she’s a witch. A priestess. A mirror of fate. I didn’t care what she was, only that she might help me become more than the hollow shape I saw in the mirror. It was just around midnight when I knocked on her crooked wooden door. The wind howled behind me. She didn’t open it—it just swung wide, like it had been waiting. I stepped in. The air inside was thick with herbs and something older. Candlelight flickered against velvet walls. Then she entered the room. She was taller than I expected. Pale skin, eyes like coals. Wrapped in black and silver, her voice smooth as silk dragged across a blade. “Sit,” she said. I sat. The chair was high-backed, ancient. I sank into it, legs dangling like a child’s. She studied me for a long time. Then, finally, “Why have you come?” I swallowed hard. “I want to be better than I am.” Lady Volute smiled, but not kindly. “Better how?” “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Just...more. Like there’s something buried in me, something that could grow, if I just knew how to dig it out.” The candles flickered. A shadow passed over the window, though no one was outside. She nodded slowly. “Very well, Sarah. But becoming more always means leaving something behind.” That’s when the phone rang again. From my pocket. From *my* number. Lady Volute didn’t flinch. “Answer it.” The phone buzzed in my hand—*my* number glowing on the screen. “I—why?” I stammered. “Who is that? That’s my number.” Lady Volute didn’t look surprised. She never looked surprised. Only ancient. Only certain. “I told you,” she said softly, “to become more, you must leave something behind.” “But…what does that mean?” She turned her back to me, walking toward the center of the room, where a small round table held a black bowl filled with water and petals that hadn’t wilted despite the flickering heat. “Not everything that’s attached to you is meant to stay,” she said. “Some parts cling out of fear. Out of habit. Out of pain.” The phone kept ringing. “You will have to leave something,” she continued. “Something that thinks it *is* you.” I stared at the screen. The ringing stopped. Then a voicemail icon appeared. I looked at Lady Volute. She said nothing. She was watching me now, and in her eyes I saw neither kindness nor cruelty—just inevitability. With trembling hands, I pressed *play*. My own voice spoke through the phone, low and urgent. “Don’t trust her,” it said. “You don’t know what she’ll take. You don’t know what you’ll lose. Turn back now—before it’s too late.” The message ended. The silence after was louder than any storm outside. I looked up. “Was that me?” I asked. “The me I’m supposed to leave behind?” Lady Volute stepped closer. She reached out, brushing her fingertips against my temple. It felt like static—like the moment before lightning strikes. “It’s a part of you,” she whispered. “But not all of you. You came to become more. This is the price.” I swallowed hard. Somewhere deep inside, something began to split. I looked down at my shaking hands. My fingers were cold, my knuckles white from holding the phone too tightly. “I know now,” I whispered. “What I need to leave behind.” Lady Volute waited, silent as stone. “My fear,” I said. “I need to leave my fear behind. It's what's been holding me back all this time. It keeps me small, quiet, uncertain. I carry it like a second skin, and I’m tired of it.” Lady Volute stepped forward, her presence suddenly overwhelming. The room darkened, as if the candles had inhaled. She nodded. “Fear is clever. It wears the face of caution, of logic, of protection. But it is a chain. If you leave it behind, you will no longer be who you were. You will become something ...other.” “I know,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “That’s why I came.” She reached for the black bowl. With one elegant motion, she dipped her fingers into the water and flicked it toward me. The droplets struck my forehead, cold and sharp. My vision blurred. The chair beneath me vanished. I was standing now, barefoot on a floor I couldn’t see, surrounded by fog. The air pulsed with a heartbeat that wasn’t mine. And then—I saw her. Me. The old me. She was crouched on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes wide with that familiar terror. My fear. My shadow. She looked up at me, lips trembling. “Don’t leave me,” she said. “We’ve been together forever. I’ve kept you safe.” I knelt beside her. “I know,” I said gently. “But I’m not here to be safe anymore. I’m here to *become*.” She reached for my hand. I let her touch it—but didn’t hold on. Then I stood and turned away. The fog swallowed her whole. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the candlelit room. Lady Volute smiled, just barely. “You did it.” I nodded, my chest rising and falling with something new. It wasn’t pride. It wasn’t even peace. It was space. Room to become. “Go now,” she said, turning back toward the shadows. “And don’t look for what you left. It’s not yours anymore.”

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Fear is the Challenge

Ladydra06

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Echoes of the Self

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Annette Knotz

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