The scent of roses and fresh hay filled her lungs as Solara's eyes fluttered open. Sunlight poured through tall windows, gilding everything it touched in gold. The world was… impossibly beautiful.
She blinked once, twice. Then, quite honestly, she panicked.
This wasn't her apartment. This wasn't the hum of the city or the familiar creak of her dorm room floorboards.
She was lying on a carved oak bed, the sheets soft and cool against her skin. Her hands, pale and delicate, felt strange. Almost… right. And then her gaze fell on the mirror across the room.
The reflection froze her in place.
Maple-colored waves framed her face. Eyes — not brown, not hazel, but emerald green — stared back with startling clarity. Her cheekbones were sharper, her skin luminous as if carved from porcelain. Even her lips, naturally soft in her old world, seemed to glow faintly in the morning light.
"No… no way," she whispered, her voice soft and trembling. "This can't be real."
Yet everything she touched felt tangible. Her hand slid across the mirror frame, her fingers grazing the carved flowers as if confirming it wasn't a dream.
A gentle knock echoed at the door.
"Solara? My darling, you're awake!"
The voice was soft, warm — tinged with worry. The door opened to reveal a woman whose smile could melt the coldest frost. Flowing auburn hair framed her kind face, and the gown she wore shimmered like sunlight on water.
"Mother?" Solara breathed.
The woman rushed forward, pressing her hand to Solara's cheek. "Thank heavens… you frightened us terribly. You were unconscious for two days."
"Two days?" Solara's mind spun. She looked down at her hands, still unfamiliar, still beautiful in ways her old ones weren't. "I… I don't understand. What—where am I?"
From behind, a tall man stepped in — broad-shouldered, calm, with eyes that held quiet relief. "You've returned to us, Solara," he said. "We feared the worst."
Her heart skipped. "Returned?" she repeated. "You mean… I was sick?"
"Yes," he said, smiling gently. "But you're strong now. Rest, and you'll be fully well soon."
Solara's mind raced. Something about the way they spoke — their love, their relief, their certainty — tugged at a strange familiarity. Almost as if… she had known them all her life.
Her gaze wandered back to the mirror. Lady Solara Elara Arden. That was her name here. The noble daughter of Count Arden. And somewhere deep inside, she knew she hadn't just… woken up in a different house.
She had woken up in another world.
A world she had read about. A world she had cried over.
The realization made her heart hammer. Her thoughts swirled. Esther. The Crown Prince. The tragedy. The story.
Solara's lips curved into a tentative smile. "Well," she said softly, almost to herself, "I guess life really does write in strange ink."
A small whine drew her attention. A dog — shaggy, with golden-brown fur and eyes bright with intelligence — padded into the room. It barked once, tail wagging furiously, and leaped onto the bed.
"Piro," she said instinctively, stroking its soft head. Comfort came in small forms, even in worlds that didn't belong to her.
As she held him, a thought struck her with sudden clarity. "If I'm really… her," she murmured, brushing a lock of maple-colored hair from her face, "then I know what's coming. I know the story. And maybe… maybe I can change it."
Outside, the garden glowed in the morning light. The kingdom of Esther had not yet fallen. The crown prince had not yet been betrayed. And somewhere, in a palace not far from here, Aurelius Detrich Valen was waiting, golden eyes shining like sunlight through glass.
Solara's chest tightened. A strange warmth spread through her — a connection she couldn't explain, a thread tugging her forward. It was like meeting someone she had known in another life, someone whose destiny had always been entwined with hers.
And yet, she smiled. She had a story to rewrite.
This time, things would be different.