1. Awakening in a new world

My feet pounded against the cold stone floor, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. My vision blurred and my ears still ringing with the sound of breaking bones and muffled screams. Fear clawed at my throat, strangling me, but I kept running.

I have to find Kairan. I have to survive.

But then, shadows shifted ahead of me. Two figures emerged from the darkness, blocking my way. Their cloaks billowed unnaturally, black mist curling around their forms. The glow of their magic pulsed ominously, crackling like living darkness in their hands.

I skidded to a halt. My breath caught. My legs trembled, my fingers numb.

No. No, no, no.

They took slow steps toward me. Like they knew I had nowhere to run. Like they knew I was trapped.

"Shit," I whispered. My voice barely came out.

One of them lunged, his hand snapping toward me. I yanked back, but his grip caught my wrist, burning like frostbite and fire all at once. His strength was monstrous. I couldn’t break free.

"Let go!"

No. No, I can’t die here. I can’t.

My vision blurred, fear sinking its claws into my chest, tightening until I could barely breathe. My body locked up, my mind screaming at me to run, to fight....anything. But I couldn’t move.

Then, in the dim torchlight, something caught my eye. A sword. Rusted, blackened with age, hanging loosely on the wall just a few feet away. My stomach twisted. If I could just reach it…

Grab it. Grab it!

I forced my body to act before my mind could stop me. With a desperate jerk, I twisted in his grip, wrenching my arm free just enough to lunge sideways. My fingers stretched, barely brushing the sword’s hilt.

Too far.

The man snarled, his grip tightening again. I gasped in pain, but I threw my weight forward, kicking off the wall for momentum. My fingers closed around the sword, and with one last burst of strength, I ripped it from the rusted hooks.

The weight of it nearly unbalanced me. It was old, worn, the edge dulled by time, but it was still heavy.

The sword didn’t slide in like in the movies. It crunched against bone, resisted, like the body itself refused to die. My arms rattled from the impact, and for a sickening moment, I thought I’d drop it.

Oh God. Oh God.

His fingers tightened around my wrist and yanked me forward like I was weightless. My stomach lurched. He was too strong.

I’m going to die.

A sob caught in my throat, but I forced my legs to move. I had to do something. I couldn’t let him kill me. With a desperate cry, I stopped pulling away and shoved forward, driving the sword toward his collarbone.

It didn’t go in smoothly. It stuck, caught against something, but I pushed harder, using my whole body. The sickening crunch of bone snapping sent a shudder through me. His grip loosened.

I yanked free, stumbling back, barely holding onto the sword. My hands were wet. Blood? My blood? I couldn’t tell. I wanted to throw up. My arms shook so badly I could hardly lift the weapon again.

But he was still moving. He could still get up. He was healing himself. If I hesitated, he’d kill me.

Tears blurred my vision as I raised the sword and swung down with everything I had left. The blade met flesh. Blood, so much blood, splattered across my arms, my chest. His eyes widened in shock. He gurgled, mouth opening like he wanted to speak. Then he collapsed.

I staggered back, shaking so hard my teeth clattered. My chest heaved. . I wanted to drop the sword and run, but my legs wouldn’t move.

A surge of magic slammed into my side.

Pain exploded through my ribs as I crashed to the floor, gasping. Before I could even process it, a hand clamped around my throat and hauled me up.

I choked, my hands clawing desperately at the fingers squeezing my windpipe. My legs kicked uselessly. My lungs screamed for air.

No! please, no!

Tears pricked at my eyes. I couldn’t reach my sword. My fingers scrabbled at his wrist, at his arm, anything. My vision blurred, darkened.

I don’t want to die.

Panic took over. I flailed wildly, fingers grasping for something, anything. My thumb found the edge of his eye socket, and I shoved as hard as I could.

He roared in pain, his grip loosening just enough for me to slip free. I hit the ground hard, coughing, wheezing. My body screamed in agony, but I had no time to recover, he was already lunging again.

Move. Move.

I scrambled backward, my hands slipping in blood. My sword? Where is it?

There.

I snatched it up just as he raised his hand. My body was too slow, too weak. I wouldn’t be fast enough this time.

I did the only thing I could. I lunged.

The blade rammed into his chest, not cleanly, not smoothly. It stuck again but I shoved harder, screaming as I put all my weight into it.

His body jerked violently. His hands clawed at my arms. I twisted the sword. A strangled sound tore from his lips. His legs buckled. He collapsed.

I stared at him, gasping, my whole body trembling. I should run. I should leave. But I couldn’t move.

They would’ve killed me.

A broken sob tore out of me, and suddenly, I was hitting him. Fist to his face. Again. And again.

“You were going to kill me!” My voice cracked.

My knuckles stung, but I didn’t care. I grabbed his collar with both hands and slammed his head against the stone floor. Blood smeared beneath him. I did it again and again. My arms shook, my breaths coming in frantic, hiccupping gasps. My whole body ached, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop.

I sobbed, loud and messy, my chest heaving so hard it hurt. The adrenaline was gone, leaving nothing but exhaustion and terror in its place. My hands slipped from his shirt as my strength gave out, and I crumpled back against the wall, curling in on myself.

I couldn't think.

I just wanted Kairan.

I wanted him to be here, to hold me, to tell me I was okay, that it was over.

But he wasn’t.

Tears blurred my vision. They were endless. I bit my lip, trying to hold them back, but I couldn’t. A broken sob tore out of me, then another, then another. I covered my mouth, but it did nothing to muffle the sound.

I needed to get out of here. I needed to move.

But all I could do was sit there, sobbing, surrounded by two dead men, their blood smeared all over me.

Kairan always saved me.

I never truly understood what it meant to take a life, how it tore through you, how it made you feel sick and hollow all at once. Not until now.

Less than a year ago, I was dead, alone in a crumbling house, too weak to fight. And now, I was drenched in blood, my hands shaking from taking a life just to survive.

In a worn-out mattress on a creaking bedframe, the smell of damp wood. I was poor and sick. My body had failed me with every passing day. There was no one left to save me. No one to care.

But now, here I am, alive in a different world, my hands drenched in blood that wasn’t mine. My chest heaved, my breath shaky and uneven.

I killed someone. I fought to live.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure which death was worse.

I was dead. Or at least, my body was.Lying on my deathbed, the struggle against pneumonia that spiraled into sepsis, and then, the organs just giving up one by one.

I fell. Not in a physical sense, but in a way that made my stomach lurch and my skin crawl. An endless abyss swallowed me whole, its darkness stretching beyond anything I could comprehend. A voice, hazy, fragmented, echoed through the void.

"You need to..."

"Your..." 

"You are..." before everything went black again.

When I drifted back into consciousness, the first thing was the softness beneath me, too unreal, like sinking into a cloud. Warm, golden light danced behind my closed eyelids, far too gentle to belong to the dim, flickering bulb in Grandma’s room

I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming. The air smelled different, clean, faintly sweet. There was no damp, no dust. Everything felt… vast. Open.

Slowly, I forced my eyes open, and the world that met me was nothing like the one I had left behind. The ceiling stretched high above, gleaming with gold and intricate patterns that blurred at the edges. A shimmer of light danced from something above, a chandelier? The walls curved outward, endless, lined with shapes I couldn’t quite make out.

It was beautiful, and completely unfamiliar.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, expecting the familiar weakness, the paralysis that had stolen my ability to walk.

Instead, my feet touched the floor stedily, without wobbling and falling again. I was standing.

A sharp inhale caught in my throat. My body, the one I had known, had been fragile, decaying. But now… I was moving.

Shaken, I turned toward the mirror.

And froze.

That wasn’t my face.

Instead, a woman with red hair stared back at me.

My breath hitched. My hand shot to my cheek. wrong. Too smooth. Too unfamiliar. The woman in the mirror had vibrant red hair, delicate features, and wide, startled eyes.

I stumbled backward, my legs tangling in the soft sheets. The mattress tilted beneath me, and I crashed onto the floor with a gasp. The bedside lamp toppled over, shattering against the polished floor.

The door burst open. A group of women, dressed in black gowns and aprons, rushed in.

“Lady Meredia!” they gasped in unison. "You woke up!"

Their hands were on me even before I could back off, helping me up, their eyes filled with concern.

Lady?

Panic clawed at my throat.

Where am I?

Why are they calling me a Lady?

The room blurred. My vision wavered, darkness creeping at the edges again.

No. No, no, no. I am dying again—

Black.

When I came to, I was alone.

I was back in the bed. The sheets were too smooth, the mattress too soft, swallowing me whole. A faint breeze stirred the air. My head felt heavy, my thoughts sluggish, but panic pushed me forward.

I sat up. The room was too large, too grand. nothing like where I should be. A glimpse of gold caught my eye, a mirror? A door? It didn’t matter.

I swung my legs over the edge, my bare feet hitting the floor. The room spun as I stood, but I forced myself toward the door, my pulse pounding. I had to get out.

I gripped the handle and pulled.

Two guards stood outside, their uniforms crisp, their gazes sharp as they turned to me.

"Lady Meredia?"

The deep voice sent a shiver down my spine. One of the guards stiffened, his hand instinctively moving toward the sword at his side. The other, slightly younger, studied me with sharp eyes, his brow furrowing.

"Are you feeling... well?"

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening on the door handle. These men weren’t just standing guard. They looked powerful. The taller one was built like a fortress, broad-shouldered, his dark eyes assessing me like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite piece together. The other, still taller than me, had a leaner frame. Their uniforms were pristine, the metal of their weapons gleaming even in the dim light.

"What happened?" the younger one asked, his gaze flicking over me with something between curiosity and suspicion.

My pulse thundered in my ears. Lady? Nothing about this felt real. The grand room, the unfamiliar reflection, the way they spoke to me like I belonged here. I had to figure out where I was, what had happened, but right now, all I could manage was a breathless, "I… I’m fine. I think I just need to understand what’s going on."

The guards exchanged a glance. The taller one hesitated before stepping back. “If you need anything, just let us know. We’re here to help.”

My hands were clammy as I slowly stepped away from the door, my heart still hammering against my ribs. The hallway stretched endlessly, lined with gilded sconces and paintings too rich, too foreign. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

But the cold floor beneath my feet, their gazes, and the quiet hum of a world I didn’t recognize told me the terrifying truth.

I wasn’t waking up from this nightmare anytime soon.

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