Rinley had always believed she would recognize the moment that would change her life.
She expected fireworks or maybe some melodramatic internal monologue. This is it. The turning point. My new beginning.
But now, sitting in silence on a velvet chair in a locked chamber of an unfamiliar palace, her body aching and her thoughts dangerously sharp, she realized it did not happen like that.
Change didn't arrive with a scream or spotlight.
It settled in the bones. It stared at you in the silence between breaths, one that was supposed to be her end.
And now, Rinley was starting to listen, to pay attention to what was actually happening to her.
She looked down and stared at her hands, now that she was focusing, they weren't quite hers.
The proportions were off, with slightly longer fingers and smoother skin. Paler. Her arms, they were stronger, leaner, but not artificially so; it was natural. Her joints didn't ache like they used to. Her scars were gone, every single one, except the faint surgical line around a part of her leg, where the prosthetic was supposed to be attached.
She slowly leaned forward and pulled up her pant leg, but on the leg, even if it was a little out of order.
The metal gleamed faintly in the candlelight. Black and white matte finish. Etched slightly along the edge like it had… been reforged. Refitted, sleeker than before. Someone or something had improved it.
She flexed her foot and the sensors it had responded instantly, faster than before.
"No pain," she murmured aloud, the words echoing in the quiet chamber.
That was the first time in nearly four years that she had moved without pain.
She let her leg settle and straightened in the chair; the fabric under her palms felt too real, too solid, to be a dream. The smells—burnt incense, old paper, polished wood—reminded her that this wasn't some post-death hallucination.
This was her reality now.
The joking had been a shield, automatic, deflective. A crutch stronger than her leg to hold onto, to deny.
But now she saw it for what it was: fear. The same kind that had held her hostage in that hospital room, the same that had told her not to stand up, not to try, not to risk believing she could matter.
But here? Wherever here was? That luxury was gone.
She had been summoned into another world.
Whether by mistake or fate, she was here and that meant she had a choice.
She could waste this chance.
Or she could earn it.
Her eyes drifted down to the faintly glowing mark on her wrist. It pulsed, just once, a soft breath of light, as if it had heard her thoughts.
She exhaled slowly, pressing a palm over it.
"I don't know what you are," she whispered. "But if you brought me here… I hope you know what you're doing. Because I'm not the kind of person who gets second chances."
Just then, the door opened.
She rose instinctively, and to her surprise, pain didn't shoot up her back the way it used to, her body held firm and stronger. Different. Reforged.
Two guards entered, in the same style as earlier: steel armor, a crest over the chest, grim expressions. But behind them stepped a woman who clearly didn't belong in either military or royalty.
She wore black robes, simple but refined, with silver embroidery running down her sleeves in precise, elegant sigils. No sword and no armor, her weapon was clearly knowledge.
She stepped into the room and gave Rinley a long, unreadable look.
"So, you are the one," the woman said at last. Her voice was calm and cold but not unfriendly, just deliberate.
"I am guessing you're not the welcoming committee," Rinley replied, but without the usual sarcasm.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Do you know where you are?"
"I am guessing somewhere in your version of 'What the hell just happened,' am I right?" Rinley asked.
There was nothing but silence for a moment, then a single nod.
"Sit," the woman ordered.
Rinley obeyed, not out of submission, but calculation. She needed answers and she wouldn't get them by playing rebel.
The woman remained standing, hands folded in front of her chest.
"My name is Saela. I am the High Examiner of the Crown. I specialize in identifying threats… and mistakes."
Rinley didn't flinch. "Which one do you think I am?"
"Unclear," Saela admitted. "You were summoned through an ancient royal rite meant to call forth heroes or other types of beings. Instead, we received… you."
Rinley tilted her head slightly. "You are not sure if I'm a mistake… or a new variable."
"You speak like someone who knows what that means," Saela said and Rinley just shrugged, since she had no clear understanding or explanation.
Saela's eyes flickered at her nonchalant attitude, but she also saw it as a defense mechanism.
Saela finally stepped forward and sat across from her. She studied Rinley carefully, like she was dissecting her with her eyes alone.
"You carry no divine crest. No aura of prophecy. No tether to the Light. Yet you appear marked by a power not native to this world."
She gestured toward Rinley's wrist.
"The mark. It responded when you spoke earlier. You're aware?"
"It's been doing that since I got here. I don't know what it means."
Saela didn't answer right away. Instead, she stood again and paced slowly. Her fingers traced a sigil into the air and with a gentle flick, a glowing panel opened between them, like a suspended mirror of light.
Within it, Rinley saw herself; her eyes widened in shock. This world had magic and that was not the only thing that she was realizing...
She herself was not quite as she remembered.
Her features were sharper, not model-beautiful, but striking. Her body had been adjusted, refined, maybe, to function in this world. She still looked like her, but stronger, less weathered. Her stance was steadier, more balanced. Even the way her prosthetic fit, like it had been meant for her body.
"A new vessel," Rinley murmured. "Not a possession. A transference. Fully embodied."
"What the hell is going on? I didn't just get dropped here," Rinley said quietly. "I got… rebuilt."
Saela turned. "You are an anomaly. One with potential... but potential for what, we don't know yet."
Rinley swallowed. This was bigger than she imagined and it made her slightly uneasy, not knowing what it was meant for.
"So, what happens now?" she asked hesitantly.
Saela paused; her tone was neutral but weighted.
"Now… we see what kind of chance you have truly been given."
She flicked her fingers again and the mirror vanished.
"You will be observed and tested quietly. The court still sees you as an error. The priesthood already suspects corruption. The queen considers you a political inconvenience at best."
"And you?" Rinley asked.
Saela's eyes didn't waver.
"I think you might be the only honest person in this room. And that makes you dangerous."
Then, to Rinley's surprise, Saela stood and extended a hand.
"Welcome to Theria, Rinley Valemont."
Rinley took the hand and stood slowly.
Her prosthetic leg didn't falter.
Her grip was firm.
And for the first time in years, she didn't feel broken, but now, everything was uncertain and she had to figure out what was going on and how to take control of her predicament.