Maya's POV
I'm drowning in someone else's memories.
My eyes snap open and I gasp for air, but my lungs burn like I'm still breathing smoke. Except there's no smoke. No fire. No lab.
Just pain.
Everything hurts. My ribs feel broken. My face throbs. When I try to move my left arm, white-hot agony shoots through my shoulder.
Where am I?
The sky above me is gray and wrong. No airplanes. No pollution haze. Just clouds and... is that a bird? It looks too big. Too strange.
I turn my head—even that small movement makes me want to scream—and see stone buildings that look like they belong in a history book. Crooked walls. Thatched roofs. Dirt roads.
This isn't New York.
This isn't anywhere in the twenty-first century.
Panic claws at my throat. I try to sit up and immediately regret it. My vision goes black at the edges. When it clears, I look down at my body.
These aren't my hands.
My hands are small and dark and covered in motor oil stains from years in the lab. These hands are pale. Delicate. Long fingers that look like they never worked a day in their life.
Except they're covered in bruises. Purple and yellow and sick green. Some are old. Some are fresh.
And there's blood. Dried blood caking the fingernails. More blood on the torn dress I'm wearing—a dress, I never wear dresses—and it's not the kind from Target. It's heavy fabric with embroidery that must have been beautiful once.
Now it's ripped and dirty and stained with things I don't want to think about.
"What... what happened to me?" My voice comes out wrong. Higher. Weaker. Not my voice at all.
Then the memories hit like a truck.
No—not MY memories. Someone else's memories flooding into my brain like a dam broke.
Lady Elara Thornwood. That's who I am now. No—that's who this body belongs to.
The memories come in flashes, sharp and painful:
A beautiful ballroom. Dancing with a handsome man named Lord Damien Blackwood. He whispers that he loves me. Lies. All lies.
A royal banquet. I'm so nervous, serving wine to Crown Prince Kael. He's cold and scary but I'm honored to be chosen for this task. The wine was supposed to be a gift. A gesture of respect.
Prince Kael collapsing. Screaming. Convulsing. Poison.
Everyone turning to look at me. Accusing fingers. Shocked gasps.
"She poisoned the prince!"
But I didn't. I swear I didn't. I don't even know how poison works. I just served the wine like I was told.
Then the trial. So fast. No real defense. My fiancé Damien testifying against me: "Lady Elara has been acting strange. Secretive. I found letters in her room about overthrowing the crown."
My cousin Seraphina crying on the stand: "I saw her mixing something in her chambers. When I asked, she threatened me. I was so scared."
Both of them lying. Both of them destroying me.
Just like Derek and Lisa.
Oh god. It's happening again.
The memories keep coming, worse and worse:
Guilty verdict. My title stripped away. The brand—a hot iron pressed into my shoulder that made me scream until my voice broke.
Public beating in the town square. People I thought were friends throwing rotten food. Spitting on me. Calling me traitor. Murderer. Witch.
Damien watching from the crowd. He didn't look sad. He looked... satisfied.
Seraphina standing next to him. She smiled. The same victory smile Lisa gave me through the window.
Then soldiers dragging me to the slums and throwing me in this alley like garbage.
"Let the traitor rot," one of them said. "She'll be dead by morning anyway."
That was three days ago.
Elara has been dying here for three days.
But somehow, I'm not dead. Because Maya Chen's soul crashed into this dying body and brought it back to life.
Two betrayed women. Two broken souls. One impossible second chance.
I force myself to sit up, ignoring the screaming pain. My hand—Elara's hand—finds the wall and I pull myself up inch by agonizing inch.
There's a puddle of dirty water nearby. I stumble toward it and look down.
A stranger stares back at me.
Silver-blonde hair, tangled and filthy. Violet eyes that look too big in a thin, bruised face. High cheekbones. Delicate features that might be beautiful if they weren't covered in cuts and dirt and despair.
This is Lady Elara Thornwood.
This is me now.
I touch my face with trembling fingers. The stranger in the puddle does the same.
"Maya Chen died in that fire," I whisper. "And Elara Thornwood was left here to die. But neither of us is dead."
My reflection stares back with eyes full of something I recognize:
Rage.
Pure, burning rage.
In my old life, I had Derek and Lisa. In this life, Elara had Damien and Seraphina.
Different names. Different centuries. Same betrayal.
But this time, I have something I didn't have before.
I have knowledge from eight hundred years in the future. I understand science and medicine and technology these people can't even imagine. I survived betrayal once—well, technically I died, but I'm here now, aren't I?
And Elara's memories show me something important: Prince Kael isn't dead. He's sick. Dying slowly from whatever poison someone—not Elara—put in that wine.
If I can cure him, I can prove Elara's innocence.
If I can prove her innocence, I can destroy the people who did this to her.
To us.
A laugh bubbles up from my chest. It sounds a little crazy. I probably am a little crazy. Dead people who wake up in other bodies usually are.
"Okay," I say to my reflection. To Maya. To Elara. To whoever I am now. "Round two. Let's see them try to kill me twice."
I turn away from the puddle, trying to figure out which direction to go, when I hear footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Military boots on stone.
My whole body freezes.
A shadow falls across the alley entrance. A man steps into view, and my breath catches.
He's tall. Broad shoulders. Dark armor with a royal crest. A sword at his hip that looks very, very sharp.
And his face—cold, sharp features. Ice-blue eyes that could freeze fire.
Elara's memories scream his identity:
Prince Kael. The man I supposedly poisoned. The man who sentenced me to death.
He's supposed to be in the palace, dying.
So why is he standing in this alley, staring at me like he's seen a ghost?
"Lady Elara Thornwood," he says, and his voice is like winter itself. "You should be dead."
I meet his eyes, and something crazy takes over. Maybe it's Maya's engineer brain refusing to bow to anyone. Maybe it's Elara's broken heart finally finding courage. Maybe it's both of us together, stronger than either alone.
"Disappointed?" I ask.
His eyes widen slightly. No one talks to Prince Kael like that.
Then his hand moves to his sword.
And I realize I might die for real this time—barely an hour after my second chance began.