The first thing I felt was weight.
Not on my body… but on my heart.
As if someone had placed every regret I ever carried right on my chest.
My eyes flickered open to a dim, glowing light. Soft, golden threads floated in the air like fireflies drifting through water. I wasn't lying on a bed. I wasn't lying on any surface at all.
I was floating—suspended in a warm, shimmering chamber that hummed like it was alive.
My breath caught.
"This… isn't the afterlife," I whispered. My voice sounded small, almost frightened. "So where am I?"
Before the question could form again, a gentle wind brushed against my skin. It carried a voice—soft, ancient, and strangely familiar.
"Aria Vale… your fate was stolen. And so, you are being returned."
Returned?
The word slammed into me.
I pushed myself upright, fighting the dizziness that spun around my head. Memories hit me in fragments.
Lysandra's cruel smile.
My family crying.
Kael's silhouette fading away.
Cold.
Darkness.
Pain—so much pain.
And then… nothing.
My fingers trembled. I had died. I remembered dying.
So why was I—
A sudden flash of light surrounded me, and the golden threads tightened, twisting into a blinding coil. I felt something pulling me—dragging me—through space, through memory, through time.
And then—
I fell.
My body hit a soft surface with a loud, undignified thud.
"Ow—seriously?" I groaned, rolling onto my back.
The glow vanished. The chamber disappeared. The humming ended.
I opened my eyes…
and my breath froze in my throat.
It was my room.
But not the one I died in.
Not the one filled with packed boxes, unpaid bills, and lonely silence.
No.
This was my room from ten years ago.
The posters I used to love.
The little desk lamp shaped like a pink star.
The missing drawer knob I kept forgetting to fix.
Everything was exactly the same.
My heart began racing uncontrollably.
"No way… no way… this can't be real." I sat up slowly, my hands shaking. "Am I… actually back?"
I stumbled to the mirror on the wall. The girl staring back at me made my throat tighten.
Smooth skin. Brighter eyes. No dark circles.
No scars.
No exhaustion from years of fighting a losing battle.
I reached up and touched my face.
"It's really me," I whispered. "But younger."
A sudden flash flickered at the corner of my vision.
A thin, glowing thread—white and shimmering—stretched from my chest to the doorway.
I gasped and blinked.
The thread faded.
Then reappeared again.
"What… is that?"
Before I could process it, a familiar voice called from downstairs.
"Aria! Breakfast is getting cold!"
My mother.
Alive.
Healthy.
Laughing.
My knees almost gave out.
I swallowed hard, steadying myself. "Coming!" My voice cracked.
I wasn't dreaming. I wasn't hallucinating.
I had been sent back.
Given a second chance.
But second chances always come with conditions.
And as I stepped toward the door, the white thread suddenly shifted—splitting into two. One glowing softly… the other flickering with an unstable, dangerous shimmer.
A chill slid down my spine.
Two choices.
Two futures.
My dream choice… or the destiny that once killed me.
I didn't know which one I was supposed to follow.
But I did know one thing:
This time, I wasn't going to die the way I did before.
Not again.
Not ever.
And whatever this strange new power was…
I was going to use it.