A soft breeze brushed her cheek.
The scent of lavender filled the air — too gentle, too clean. Slowly, she opened her eyes to a room she had never seen before: white curtains fluttering at the window, a crystal chandelier above her head, and sunlight gently spilling across velvet sheets.
This wasn't the plane.
This wasn't the crash.
She sat up, startled. Her heart raced. Where—?
"Lyra! Are you up yet?"
The voice of a woman rang out from the hall, warm and cheerful.
Lyra?
A sharp pain split through her head. She clutched her temples as a flood of images surged into her mind.
A girl hunched over textbooks.
Red ink scribbled across math problems.
A glittering acceptance letter.
Moonveil Academy for the Gifted.
A kind-eyed woman brushing her daughter's hair and picking out a skirt.
"You'll look so cute in this — try not to look like a little assassin for once."
A station. A train. A promise of a new start.
The memories weren't hers — but they felt real.
She gasped, her voice hoarse.
"Who's memories are these....lyra's... But why..why am I seeing these"
"Weren't I was in a crashed plane...then,why am I not feeling any pain at all.."
She glanced down at her hands. Smooth. Smaller. Her scars… were gone.
Her feet touched the floor. She crossed the room slowly, unsure if she was dreaming or dead. A tall mirror waited on the other side.
And the girl who stared back wasn't her.
Her reflection showed a soft, pale face with delicate features. Dark glossy hair. Wide eyes.
"…Lyra," she whispered.
"..what..why on the earth am I in this body..where is my body.."
A knock came again.
"Honey? Don't forget your train. You've worked so hard for this."
Train.
Today was the day Lyra was supposed to leave for the academy.
Was she… living in Lyra's body now?
She looked around one last time, then opened the wardrobe. Inside were school uniforms, modest skirts, and cozy jackets.
She hesitated… then pulled one out.
"I don't know what's going on," she thought, "but if I'm supposed to be Lyra… then I'll be Lyra. For now."