Joleen stands frozen, paralyzed by fear, her eyes locked on the gleaming barrel of the gun aimed directly at her chest. Her breath catches. The fluorescent lights in the bank hum overhead, harsh and cold. Behind the ski mask, the robber's eyes are bloodshot and frantic—sweating, twitching, one wrong move from breaking.
Huh? What's going on? Is this really happening right now?
"You!" he barks, pointing the gun away from her just long enough to gesture toward the teller line. "Get the damn money from the back. Now!"
Her coworker, Ethan, flinches like a kicked dog. He hesitates—just a second—then bolts through the swinging door behind the counter.
"Don't play with me!" the robber shouts after him. "You think I won't kill someone?!"
Ethan better not do anything dumb!
Joleen's heart slams against her ribs. The customers are on the floor, quiet. Crying. One of them whispers a prayer. She can't move. Her knees threaten to give out.
Moments stretch like hours.
Should I talk him out of it? Would he kill me if I tried? He already seems like he's ready to risk it all.
Ethan returns, arms filled with bundles of cash. His eyes flick toward the silent alarm button tucked beneath the counter. He stumbles. Fumbles. Press it.
Dumbass. He knows the alarm is broken. What the hell is he thinking? I better not get the bullet.
The alarm isn't so silent. A piercing whine screeches through the room.
The robber spins, wild with rage. "You think I'm playing? You think this is a joke?!"
His gun whips back toward Joleen. Their eyes meet.
"Wait—please, don't—" she breathes. Bang.
How did this happen? Why did this happen? What are the odds of this? On my day off. Dad told me to leave this job….. But I guess I'm going to see you soon, let's be a family again.
The shot echoes like a thunderclap. Red blooms across her blouse like spilled ink. Her body jerks backward, weightless, and crashes to the cold marble floor. Gasps erupt, screams tear through the room.
Joleen's vision blurs. The ceiling flickers. She tries to breathe, but can't. Her breathing is shallow and slow.The world stretches thin—like smoke unraveling.
Then everything goes black.
What are those strange cracks? Is that the gateway to the other side?
Joleen wakes to the sound of trickling water and the soft rustle of wind through leaves. Her body lies still in a shallow stream, the coolness of the current wrapping around her limbs like silk. Where there had been pain, there is now calm. Her muscles, once locked in fear, relax on command. Then it hits her.
The memory. The gun. The shot. The scream.
I died. Bullet to the chest. I felt it pierce my heart. My body dropped cold, lifeless. I died. I was murdered. In my chest.
Her body jerks upright, water splashing as she gasps for breath. Heart pounding, she stares at her hands—smaller, slimmer. Not hers. She leans forward, using the clear surface of the stream as a mirror.
I was murdered for Ethan's stupidity. I was killed. I…. I don't understand what's going on....Who is this?
Staring back at her is a face she does not recognize. Long, silky black hair clings to her shoulders. Her skin is smooth and a warm brown tone, dusted with pastel green freckles that stretch like a constellation across her cheeks, forming a bridge from one side of her face to the other. A cluster of those same freckles wraps around her left eye like a crescent moon. Her irises match the green of her freckles—a haunting, beautiful glow.
This is not her face.
Where am I? I thought I had died. I felt my life slip. I felt the bullet kill me. Whose face is this? Is this the after life?..... She looks like a nymph or… she looks and feels so..
It's unrecognizable. Unnatural. Otherworldly.
"What the hell..." she whispers.
She splashes more water on her face, hoping it will change. Hoping the image will snap back to what's familiar. But it stays.
This all feels so surreal. I need to calm down and think. Where can I go to find civilization, get help? How the hell did I end up in the body of a spirit?
Suddenly, Joleen knows: she's not just in a new body. She's in a new world. She stumbles out of the stream, still reeling, and crashes into a nearby bush. Through the branches, she spots an old log cabin tucked away in the forest. It looks abandoned—weather-worn and crooked—but something about it pulls her in.
What's this strange tug at my heart? Is this your home?.... Or is this the forest home? Is she the protector of this forest? Will I find out more about you? I have a strong instinct that I will.
"Well, that's conveniently hidden," she mutters, rolling onto her stomach and crawling out of the bush.
She pushes herself to her feet and heads toward the cabin. Inside, it's quiet. Not abandoned. Someone has tried to fix it—patching leaks, repairing floorboards, cleaning. It's small. A door to her left, one to the right. She checks the right: nothing. Empty.
The left: a bed. A dresser. That's all.
Have you been here all alone? In this stuffy dark woodsy cabin. I wonder how long, and why. Were you protecting? Waiting for someone, maybe something? Were you locked away for evil crimes?
She sits down, the mattress sinking under her weight. A worn journal slides out from under the pillow. She picks it up, hesitates, and then opens it. A tidal wave crashes through her.
Memories—not hers—flood her mind.
A baby born in this very cabin. A mother cradling her, singing lullabies through tears. Nights without food. Days of laughter. Years of love and sacrifice.
Rena. The girl whose body she now occupies.
Her mother had died here. Sick, and too poor to afford medicine. Rena stayed behind, a silent promise to herself to her mother. She tried to keep going. She tried to fix the cabin as best as she could. With the skill that she was taught with.This cabin, this stream—it was her joy. Her safe place. The only thing she truly ever knew in the world.
I understand your sorrow. That deep hollow pain, that makes you vomit. That empty and hollow….
"Oh… my condolences, Rena.Death can be cruel, unfair, unfortunate. But all in all sad" Joleen whispers in Rena's voice, tears returning. Burning heat creeps up her face.
You spent your whole existence here. You're young, and missed so much of the world… of life. But who am I to complain about wasted life?
I dry my eyes and exhale shakily. Am I supposed to treat this like a second chance? Is that even right? I can't waste this life. I won't. Will she be upset if I do? What happens to her now?
Did I kill her to take this new life? Can I give it back, even if it feels we're merging? I still don't know how I got here or why.
I walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer. It's filled with grimoires—old spellbooks, carefully preserved. Rena's mother; our mother?, though never gifted with magic, had been brilliant. If she had been born with mana, she could've been a top-tier mage.
Do I address her as our or your mother? If I am now in your body is it we or me? Our mother .. our mother. I've never had a mother. Mines died during my birth, it's just been me and my father. I wish that relationship ended on better terms.
It's very fortunate that I've been giving these memories? This information? . This is more than beneficial.
With Rena's memories, I find the hidden forest trail that her mom always said to stay away from, because it leads to a nearby town that could take us.
I wonder why Rena never questioned her mother? Even after her death for years Rena never left here.
I emerged in a local park. Everything looks like a scene from an 18th-century painting—carriages, women in elegant robes, men in suits or military uniforms. I walk toward a bench and inspect a lamp post. Inside is a pale yellow magic stone—a common item used for basic utilities by non-mages. Light. Fire. Water. Each stone is color-coded when used for an element. I touch the metal post and read the rune carved into it.
Light.
I couldn't help but smile. The memories match, knowledge matches,not just Rena's knowledge but my past memories.
I still have my old life's memories. I still have my memories of living as Joleen. The chemistry lessons, math equations, and the concept of alchemy. This can be additional help to what Rena was already taught.
My chances here feel a lot higher, now that I have an idea of the place I'm going to be living in. Or surviving. I walk across a pale yellow stone bridge and spot a small boat floating below. A robed man stands at the end—clearly a water mage, guiding it smoothly down the river with no paddle in sight.
"This is very intriguing," I murmured excitedly.
Above me, the sky is painted with shades of pink, orange, and lavender. The air is clean. Calm. Different from the sky blue of the modern technology world.
It's a magical sky for a fairy tale world…. Is this real?
I touch the bridge's rail and whisper, "Invosk" Just like in the books, Rena's mother would explain to her. Just like it was taught in our pot of memories. The lights flicker to life beneath my fingertips.
"So this is magic"I mutter in both awe and surprise.
feels like alchemy to me. If my father was here he'd be in awe and agree. Mostly because he was a big enthusiast.
A nearby officer does the same, lighting street lamps one by one. Then, I saw him. A tall man stands at the other end of the bridge, dressed in a pristine military uniform. He's commanding. Imposing. Short black hair, sides shaved clean. Grey eyes. Smooth, dark chocolate skin. And across his face—freckles, pale grey, clustered beneath his eyes like tatted marks.
Power, control, status—and beauty. And boy! The energy radiating off of him. Would that be considered magic?
I recognized him instantly. His image is described in Rena's memory through romantic tales and woes. My father. Her father. Our father. Rena's memories confirm it. He doesn't know she was born. Her mother ran away before she ever told him.
Twenty three years they lived in isolation. Where was he? Was he searching? Did he want to? Did he miss her? Would he welcome us? Me? Should I even confront him? Should I feel like this?
Without thinking, I charged forward. My chest painting from the annoyance, the frustration—I'm pissed.He looks up from a strange glowing device in his hand, shocked—but only for a moment.
This could be a great chance to have one of Rena's parents in her life. In our lives. A parental bond, that I.. Joleen no longer has. As well as Rena. I could potentially be burning a bridge.
I tackled him. Or better yet, he lets me, I think. My adrenaline and impact of the collision gets us to the ground.
"We were alone, She–" I muffled against his coat. Fighting back the hot tears, the aching burn that's rising inside.
I can't easily let him know he stirs my emotions or would they be rena's, that could put me at a disadvantage, he could use my sad situation to manipulate me or cause greater pain… I shouldn't just outwardly reject him. We will need an ally, help. Money…. Oh we need money. A place to live. Food….. more than just the small portions of rabbit food that were used to back at the cabin. Food we grow ourselves.
I look up at his face. He looks exactly like mother said he would. No aging in site.
Appearing as if he is only in his early thirties when we both know he's closer to mid forties.
"That's quite the nasty glare you have," he says, voice dry.
Glare? What glare? The only one with a mean gleam in their eyes is you.
"I'm your daughter," I blurted out. "Believe it or not." my voice betrays me. Sounding more hurt, lost. Like a child desperately asking for their parents to rescue them.
Memories of mom telling Rena how strong, bold, and kind he was quickly flashed through my head. But him then and him now might not be the same. He could have reverted back into the stuck up entitled noble, who feels it's beneath him to raise an unknown bastard child.
I, she; dosen't need him to play father. He missed too much. Rena is already twenty-three. It's too late. Chances are rich snobs aren't looking to play catch up. The rejection is going to piss me off. I can feel my blood going hot just thinking about it.
But she needs him. We need him.
Some support is better than none. But if he gives me money, I know how to flip it. I know how to invest. I can take care of us Rena. Show us a fun, eventful life full of happiness and fun. A life different from isolation. A life different from the modern world that I've come from.
Acreon? The word quickly popped into my head and just as it did so was the explanation.
We were informed about Acreon. Mom and dad met there, fell in love. It's a school known for creating some of the greatest, powerful, magic talents in this whole empire. As well as great career opportunities.
"After this, you'll never have to see me again," I said, trying to sound convincing. "Just get me into Acreon. Paid in full. All five years. With boarding."
Just pity your child enough to throw some money her way to get an education and survive.
Acreon—one of the top magic universities in the nation. Only nobles, elites, and prodigies are accepted. But if I can get in, a mage can help activate our mana. Something Rena never had the chance to do. Because mom wasn't a mage that could activate it. There is another way. But it's dangerous. Fatal, even. Rena promised never to try.
"Is that what your mother told you? your mine? " he asks with a slight smirk forming.
What do you find so entertaining?
I crease my brows together as I nod to answer him.
"You can lose the evil eye—it's rude when asking for favors from your father" he says with a smirk of relief and slight triumph.
Then he asks, softly, "Where's your mother?"
"She's dead," I answered quickly before pain rose in my throat.
He pauses. Try to hide it. But I see it—grief. Only for a flicker.
"You believe I'm your daughter?" I gaped.
There's no hesitation, no second guessing? It's been years. My mom left without a word of a child. Without the word of a pregnancy. Now One pops up and he's okay with it?
"I believe your mother," he replies without hesitation.
"Just like that?" I asked in disbelief. He nods.
"How old are you, Rena?" he asked softly.
Does he know my name? How? Did mom and him have babies names just in case? Or were they expecting and mom still ran away?
"How do you know?"
"We had a conversation, your mother and I, long ago. May I ask, How old and when is your birthday?" he eyes shined, they were a tad glossy. But it showed it was slowly putting pieces together. The sadness brewing kept me silent from asking.
"Can we do this later" I mumbled, today is her birthday?
how did the memories skip over that? And did I really take over her body the day of her birthday?
He lifts both of us off the ground. He checks to see if I'm injured. I rolled my eyes at his embarrassing gesture.
Today is Rena's birthday…. What a gift to be given today. And what are the chances of me gaining a new life on the day of her birth.
What's his plan with us as well? Should I trust him? Who else can I trust if not my own father?