500 years.
It seemed like such a long time, and indeed the waiting had dragged on through boredom and despair. Never loneliness though.
Now, however, standing at the bottom of 500 steps, it seemed as if the time had passed to swiftly.
How was she to face them now? Knowing what she did, living as she had?
And they would never know, they couldn't know.
She was different now. She didn't know how to act like she had, could barely remember being that young, but she would have to, for them. For the family she had been waiting for.
The black haired woman gazed at her feet. 500 years, 500 steps. A step for each year lost.
She could do this, all she needed to do was regress.
Her foot touched the first stair.
There was a shift in the air, minuscule, but somehow the woman seemed different, changed.
A step, a year.
A Black haired girl stood in front of a shrine.
Deep breaths, and the wind breathed with her.
She was 16. She had just defeated the enemy. She was a girl.
A delicate hand clutched between her breasts, cursing the jewel that caused this.
"Mother, I'm home."