The explosion that had occurred wasn't like the one I was now familiar with—my own explosion. While it had the same undeniable effects, it was also completely different in its own way.
When it happened, the woman I believed to be a nurse was just about to hand me over to who I assumed was my new mother.
But before she could do so, the explosion interrupted her. She couldn't complete the act and instead held me tightly in her arms for the time being.
"What was that?" the woman holding me asked.
No one answered her, and I understood why. That explosion was so devastating that when it happened, it felt as though not only the entire world had shaken, but space and time themselves had ruptured.
Everyone in the room—whether standing or sitting—collapsed to the floor moments later.
"I don't know, but whatever it was, it wasn't something good," another woman said.
"How is the princess, milady?" the woman holding me asked.
"She's fine—just a little shaken. But thank the spirits, she didn't cry… or at least throw a tantrum," the woman I now believed to be my mother replied.
"That's understandable. After all, she is your daughter—and the Lord's daughter," the woman holding me said with clear relief.
"Yes, you're right. She's strong, just like both of her parents," my mother said as she checked on my twin sister. Though shaken by the explosion, my sister soon fell into a deep sleep.
"And how about the boy? Is he alright?" my mother continued, now checking on me.
"Yes, milady. The young master is also fine. Thank you for asking," the woman replied, pleased.
Honestly, I had no idea why she was thanking her. It was her job to ask—she was my mother, after all.
I should have been freaking out.
That would've been the normal reaction, right?
I had just experienced one of the most unsettling deaths imaginable. Yet instead of dying normally—or at least waking up in a hospital bed, wrapped in bandages like a mummy—I found myself here.
Reincarnated.
If I'm being honest with myself, I never thought this would be possible—not in a million years.
Sure, when I was younger and read countless reincarnation stories, I'd wish that maybe one day I'd wake up in a different world. But even then, I knew it wasn't real.
So how am I here?
More importantly… why am I here?
After the explosion, something definitely changed.
What had once felt warm and comforting now felt dark and cold.
My mother decided to be the brave one and investigate.
"Whatever that was, I could sense it came from outside. I'm going to check it out," she said, getting out of bed.
Now, I didn't know much about childbirth—or women in general—but I didn't need a doctor or a scientist to understand that a woman who had just given birth, especially to twins, should be weak and exhausted.
But not my new mother.
She walked normally. Calmly. As if she hadn't just delivered two children moments ago.
She moved toward the window without wincing, without crying out in pain, without showing any sign of weakness.
She stopped for a few seconds, and I assumed the pain had finally caught up to her.
I was wrong.
She was simply taking a deep breath.
After a couple of steady breaths, she opened the curtain.
I couldn't see clearly—my eyes hadn't yet adapted to this world—but I didn't need to. Her reaction said everything.
She gasped.
"What is it, milady? Is everything alright?" the woman holding me rushed to her side.
But the moment she also laid eyes on what had shocked my mother, she completely forgot her original purpose.
"Oh… my heavenly spirits," she whispered in disbelief.
What they saw justified their reaction.
The sky had turned completely red. Everything outside—animals, plants—had died. Perished.
A thick musk of red sand covered the ground. Even from inside, cradled safely in the woman's arms, I could somehow feel what that sand would do once it touched skin.
And this hadn't happened by coincidence.
That would've been easier to accept.
No—this wasn't caused by climate or natural disaster.
The sun and the moon had come together.
They clashed.
They collided.
And from that collision, an eclipse was born.
From what I knew, an eclipse should have been a beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime event.
But not this one.
This eclipse was beautiful… and horrifying.
Its core was dark red—so dark it was almost black. Along the thin edge where the two celestial bodies met, the light glowed crimson, like a sun setting in blood.
And somehow, impossibly, it looked like the eclipse was crying—tears of blood.
Around it was a ring, like that of a planet. But unlike any other, this ring was made from fragments of the eclipse itself—as if it had been torn apart, split in half like a child breaking a toy.
"What does this mean?" the woman holding me asked, clutching me tighter.
"No," my mother said as she backed away from the window. "The real question is… how is this even possible?"
As my mother retreated, the woman couldn't shake the feeling that she knew something.
"Is something wrong, milady?" she asked, facing her.
"It can't be what I'm thinking," my mother muttered. "It just can't."
"Milady, please—tell me what it is," the woman said, resting my head against her shoulder.
My mother looked like she was about to speak.
Then—
The door burst open.
"Where is the child?" a man's voice demanded, sharp and terrifying.
"Don't you mean children?" a woman said as she appeared beside him.
He stared at her like she'd lost her mind.
"You have twins, Nathan," she told him.
"Twins?" Nathan repeated, stunned.
"Yes. And one of them is the cause of the calamity outside," the woman continued.
She turned to my mother.
"Victoria… which one of them was born after the dancing sun?"
My mother froze.
She didn't raise her finger.
She didn't point.
She simply looked at me.
The woman followed her gaze.
She carried a staff that emitted strange, unsettling sounds as she approached.
She stood beside me.
"Please," my mother begged, her voice breaking. "Tell me what I'm thinking isn't true. No—tell me it's not even possible."
The woman ignored her, her eyes fixed on me like I was a fascinating specimen.
"So this is the child," she said, stroking her chin.
"Don't ignore me, goddammit!" my mother snapped. "Tell me it's not true!"
The woman remained calm.
"You know I cannot lie," she replied.
"Victoria," Nathan said anxiously as he stepped closer. "What is the Oracle talking about?"
My mother struggled to speak.
"She's… she's—"
"One of your children," the Oracle said calmly, "is a calamity."