Laurel's eyes snapped open.
Wrong ceiling.
She shut them again immediately and groaned.
"Fuck this."
Her head throbbed like someone had shoved a hammer through her skull. For several seconds she stayed perfectly still, trying to piece together the last thing she remembered.
Rain.
Blood.
Mages.
Laurel sat up abruptly.
The movement made the room spin, but the memories came flooding back all at once.
"Those bastards…" she muttered, rubbing her temple.
The country mages had ambushed her. Fifteen of them. Fifteen.
Even though she was the most powerful assassin in Avandale, she couldn't win a fight like that alone.
Before she could think further...
"MY LADY!"
The door burst open.
A round woman rushed inside and practically launched herself at the bed.
"MY LADY WE WERE WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU!"
Laurel froze as the woman wrapped her in a crushing hug.
Her body went rigid.
Very slowly, Laurel lifted one finger and pushed the woman's face away from her shoulder.
"…Who are you?" she asked flatly.
The woman blinked.
"And where am I?"
The woman's eyes widened with horror.
Fresh tears instantly gathered in them.
"My lady… don't tell me… don't tell me you've lost your memories!"
Laurel's brain immediately started calculating. Looks like her spell had worked.
This could work.
Pretending to have amnesia was safer than killing the maid.
And far less messy.
Laurel forced a hesitant expression.
"I… think… s-so?" she said slowly.
The woman gasped like Laurel had just stabbed her.
"Oh my poor lady!"
She grabbed a napkin from the bedside table and blew her nose loudly.
"It's me! It's me, Anah!"
Laurel blinked twice.
"…Hello, Anah."
She cleared her throat awkwardly.
"It's nice meeting you."
Anah stared.
Laurel hesitated before asking the most dangerous question possible.
"…what is my name?"
Anah froze.
For two entire seconds.
Then she screamed.
"MAUDE! CALL THE PHYSICIAN THIS INSTANT!"
Laurel cursed under her breath.
Shit.
No. Absolutely not.
A physician poking around might notice that something was very wrong.
She could kill him too... but that was too risky.
Laurel glanced down at her hands.
Thin fingers.
Soft skin.
Purple polished nails.
She slowly flexed them.
These were not the hands of a killer.
She wouldn't be able to kill him swiftly even if she tried.
Long black hair slid down over her shoulder, reaching all the way to her waist.
Definitely not her body.
If this wasn't her body…
Then a physician was the last person she could risk seeing.
Her eyes darted around the room desperately.
Think.
Think.
Think.
Her gaze landed on the napkin in Anah's hand that she had picked up from the bedside table.
The name Hannah was embroidered neatly on the corner.
A gamble.
But better than dying again.
Laurel suddenly flipped her hair over her shoulder and burst out laughing.
Or at least she tried to.
What came out of her mouth was not laughter.
It was- "-ARF."
Laurel froze.
That had sounded exactly like a dog barking.
She clamped both hands over her mouth.
She had just terribly failed at laughing.
Anah had stopped crying.
Now she was staring.
Perfect.
Laurel forced a wide grin and scooted closer.
"Hahaha! Anah!" she said quickly. "I was joking!"
Anah blinked.
Laurel gently cupped the maid's face.
"Of course I know my name."
She paused dramatically.
"I'm Hannah."
Two seconds passed.
Then Anah burst into tears again and tackled Laurel into another hug.
"DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN MY LADY!"
Laurel wheezed as the air left her lungs.
"You scared me half to death!"
Laurel tried to smile.
It looked more like a grimace.
"Anah," she said carefully.
"Yes my lady?"
"You're not… going to call the physician now, right?"
"Well… my lady… it might be best if—"
Laurel immediately cut her off.
"I am perfectly fine."
She slid out of bed and positioned herself beside the window where sunlight streamed in.
If she looked healthy enough, maybe the maid would drop it.
"Look at me," Laurel said confidently.
Anah squinted suspiciously.
Laurel placed one hand dramatically on her hip.
"Do I look sick to you?"
"…No my lady."
"Exactly."
Anah still didn't look convinced.
Laurel decided to retreat before she asked more questions.
"Could you draw me a bath?" Laurel asked casually.
"Of course my lady!"
Anah hurried toward the door, still sniffling.
"And my lady?"
"Yes?"
"Please don't joke about losing your memory again."
"…Noted."
The door shut.
Silence fell over the room.
Laurel immediately jumped off the bed with the practiced precision of an assassin.
"Finally."
She ran straight to the nearest mirror.
A stranger stared back at her.
Laurel leaned closer.
The woman in the mirror was… beautiful.
Large doe eyes.
Full rosy lips.
Skin untouched by scars.
Soft.
Fragile.
A Noblewoman.
Laurel frowned.
"This body wouldn't survive a bar fight," she muttered.
She lifted one thin arm and sighed.
"What went wrong…"
Her mind drifted back to that night.
Rain poured through the streets of Avandale.
Laurel sprinted through the market district, blood dripping from her chest.
Behind her, fifteen mages chased her through the storm.
"DON'T LET HER ESCAPE!"
The head commander's magic arrow had pierced straight through her chest during the fight earlier.
Each breath burned.
Each step left blood on the stones.
Laurel ducked beneath a market shed and collapsed to the ground.
Her hand pressed against her wound came away soaked in red.
"I refuse to die like this," she whispered.
Footsteps approached.
They were close.
Too close.
Laurel's fingers slipped into her robe and pulled out a small orb.
Red and black liquid swirled inside.
This small orb was the soul ejector.
And the only way for her to live now, was to use the soul ejector and switch her soul with the body of another.
It was a forbidden spell.
THE SORCERY OF SOULS.
Most who used it never woke up again.
If the soul clashes with the body, it could even turn into an evil corrupted spirit.
Laurel laughed weakly.
"Better odds than dying here."
She staggered back into the marketplace.
People screamed and scattered.
Her eyes scanned the crowd desperately.
Then she saw her.
A strong merchant woman speaking to a noble lady near an alley.
Perfect.
Laurel rushed forward, shoved the noblewoman aside, and pressed her blade to the merchant's throat.
"Sit down," Laurel growled.
The merchant collapsed immediately.
Laurel lifted the orb and chanted the spell.
"Incum sativum solenum."
She then crushed it.
Black smoke exploded from her palm.
Thunder cracked across the sky.
The smoke spiraled upward, twisting the clouds into a blood-red vortex.
Laurel's vision darkened.
Suddenly she was floating.
Across from her, another figure floated inside the storm of smoke.
Laurel squinted.
Then her stomach dropped.
That wasn't the merchant.
It was the noblewoman.
"The wrong target…" Laurel whispered.
But it was too late.
A brilliant light tore free from Laurel's chest and flew toward the noblewoman.
At the same time, the noblewoman's light shot toward Laurel.
The lights collided.
Everything went black.
Laurel gasped.
The memory ended.
She looked back at the mirror.
"Great," she muttered.
"Just great."
Somewhere in the world, her assassin body was now walking around…
With someone else's soul inside it.
That was if, the Avandale mages hadn't already caught her original body and killed her.
And Laurel, the most feared assassin in Avandale, was now trapped inside a delicate noble lady named Hannah.
Laurel sighed.
"Well," she muttered.
"This is going to be a problem."
She suddenly remembered something her master had told her the night he handed her the Soul Ejector.
The memory surfaced slowly, like a blade rising from dark water.
"Listen carefully, Laurel," he had said, pressing the warm orb into her palm.
"Anyone who has ever performed the Sorcery of Souls bears a mark. A blue sigil, etched over the heart."
Laurel could still hear his voice.
"No matter what body you take… the mark follows the soul."
Her stomach tightened.
Slowly, cautiously, Laurel glanced toward the door to make sure it was still shut.
Then she grabbed the collar of the satin night robe and lifted the fabric.
"Let's see this mark then…" she muttered under her breath.
The cool air brushed against her skin as she looked down at her chest.
Nothing.
No blue sigil.
No glowing symbol.
No mark at all.
Laurel blinked.
"…What?"
She leaned closer to the mirror, pushing the fabric aside further and squinting at her skin.
Still nothing.
"That's impossible," she whispered.
Every soul shifter in recorded history had carried that mark. It was how the royal mages hunted them down.
Her master had said it himself.
"The mark cannot disappear."
Laurel frowned, tapping her chest lightly.
"Did the spell fail?" she muttered. "Or is this body somehow blocking it…?"
Before she could think further, something interrupted her thoughts.
Knock knock knock.
Laurel jumped.
The door creaked open slightly as Anah's face poked through the gap, her round cheeks flushed with excitement.
"My lady!" she whispered loudly.
Laurel quickly dropped the robe back into place.
"Yes?" she said, trying to sound calm.
Anah slipped inside the room and shut the door behind her. She leaned forward conspiratorially, practically vibrating with energy.
"My lady," she said, giggling under her breath, "you must hurry!"
Laurel narrowed her eyes.
"Hurry where?"
Anah clasped her hands together
dramatically.
"To the royal court!"
Laurel blinked.
"…Why?"
Anah gasped like Laurel had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world.
"My lady!" she whisper-shouted. "Have you truly forgotten everything?"
Laurel forced an awkward smile.
"…Remind me."
Anah bounced on her feet.
"The Crown Prince!" she squealed. "He has summoned all the candidates!"
Laurel felt a bad feeling creeping up her spine.
"Candidates for… what exactly?"
Anah looked like she might explode from excitement.
"For marriage, of course!"
Laurel went very... very still.
"The Crown Prince will choose his wife today!" Anah beamed.