The rain was coming down hard, the kind that made the streetlights blur into smears of orange in the wet night. My shoes were already soaked, but my childhood friend didn't seem to care. She walked beside me, swinging her umbrella like it was a sword, humming a tune she made up on the spot.
"You're going to hit someone with that thing," I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets.
She grinned. "You're just jealous because I'm better at sword fighting."
"You've never even held a real sword," I replied.
"Neither have you," she shot back.
That was how we always were — trading dumb remarks, pretending to be rivals when we'd known each other since we were kids. The city was quiet at this hour, the kind of quiet that made your footsteps sound louder than they should.
We were halfway through the crosswalk when I heard it — the screech of tires cutting through the rain. My head turned on instinct. Headlights were coming fast, way too fast, a truck sliding across the slick road, metal grinding against asphalt.
She froze.
I didn't think. I just moved.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved with everything I had. She stumbled backward onto the sidewalk, eyes wide in shock.
The truck's headlights filled my vision. There was no time to dodge. The sound of her voice reached me, high and panicked, screaming my name.
Then the impact.
It wasn't like in movies — no slow motion, no dramatic music. Just a burst of pain, the taste of blood, and the sensation of weightlessness as my body was thrown. My vision fractured into flashes: the streetlight above me, the rain hitting my face, the blurred outline of her leaning over the curb.
Everything faded. The cold rain disappeared.
When I opened my eyes again, it was to a blinding white light.
No… not light. A ceiling. Ornate, gold-trimmed, with patterns I didn't recognize. My body felt strange — small, heavy, sluggish. I couldn't move my arms the way I wanted to. My voice wouldn't come out right; all I could manage was a weak cry.
Something warm surrounded me, and I realized I was wrapped in thick blankets. The air smelled faintly of flowers and incense.
A shadow moved above me. A woman's face came into view — young, beautiful, with silver hair tied back and eyes the color of emeralds. She was breathing heavily, her skin glistening with sweat, but her expression was gentle.
She said something in a language I'd never heard before, her tone soft, almost trembling. Even though I couldn't understand the words, I could tell it was something comforting.
Then another figure approached — a tall man with broad shoulders, dressed in deep crimson robes lined with gold. A crown rested lightly on his head. His expression was serious, but when he looked down at me, a faint smile appeared.
The woman carefully placed me into his arms. He lifted me effortlessly, turning toward a group of people I hadn't noticed before. They were all dressed formally, some kneeling, some standing stiffly, their eyes fixed on me.
The man's voice was deep and clear as he spoke in that same unfamiliar language.
I didn't know the exact words, but the way the room reacted — the cheers, the clapping, the tears in the eyes of the older servants — made it obvious what he'd said.
"The Crown Prince has been born."
My head was spinning. A few minutes ago — or was it seconds? — I'd been on a rainy street, pushing my friend out of the way of a truck. Now I was… here. Wherever here was. And in a body that clearly wasn't mine.
The man handed me back to the woman, who held me close against her chest. Her heartbeat was steady, her warmth soothing, but my mind couldn't settle.
A maid rushed forward with a silver basin and a cloth. Another knelt beside the bed, whispering something to the woman while adjusting the blanket around me. They all seemed to know exactly what to do, as if this moment had been planned for months.
I wanted to ask where I was. I wanted to demand to know what was going on. But my mouth refused to form words. The only sounds I could make were helpless cries.
The woman — my… mother? — rocked me gently, humming a soft tune. The melody was different from the one my childhood friend used to hum, but for some reason, it made my chest tighten.
A sudden wave of exhaustion hit me. My eyelids felt heavy. The last thing I saw before they closed was the tall man — my supposed father — watching over us with a proud, unreadable expression.
Darkness again.
But this time, the darkness wasn't empty. Images flickered in the back of my mind: the blinding headlights, the rain, her terrified face as she reached for me. My friend's voice echoed faintly, almost swallowed by the void.
When I woke again, it was to sunlight filtering through pale curtains. I was still in the ornate room, still in the blanket. A maid noticed me stir and immediately fetched the silver-haired woman, who smiled and lifted me up without hesitation.
She said something again, her tone happy this time, and kissed my forehead. I didn't know her words, but I could guess the meaning.
Somewhere deep down, beneath the confusion and the strangeness, one thing was clear: whatever this place was, my life here had only just begun.
And I had no idea why I was here… or if I'd ever see her again.