I am Jessa Freaking O'Reilly. With three kids and a husband who watches basketball every weekend and has the emotional intelligence of a peacock, all display, no substance.
I am a mom in 2026 on Earth, where the US President is messing with Iran and grocery prices are somehow still going up and my biggest concern this morning was whether Lily's diaper rash cream was still in the diaper bag.
No. I am not from this monster realm. I am not an eternal queen. I am not seven hundred thirty thousand years old.
I am tired. I am angry. I am scared.
And I am not going to sit here and let some book tell me that my daughters aren't mine.
The fury built in my chest like a second heartbeat. Hot. Demanding. The golden light around my hands flared so bright I had to look away.
I grabbed the book.
And I threw it.
The book hit the library floor and the world cracked.
Not a small crack. Not a hairline fracture in the marble. The entire floor of the library shattered,gold and stone and ancient rugs splitting apart like someone had dropped an anvil from space. The walls groaned. Dust fell from the diamond ceiling. Shelves toppled, sending scrolls and crystals and tablets crashing to the ground in an avalanche of knowledge.
The crack spread beyond the library. I could feel it. The whole palace, or castle, or whatever this golden nightmare was, shuddered under my rage.
One Thousand Thirty stumbled. His shadow form flickered, like a candle about to go out. His hands went to his chest. His mouth opened but no sound came out.
I looked past him. Through the massive window behind the throne, because somehow the library had a window that looked out over the monster realm.
Thousands of monsters. All on their knees. Not kneeling in respect. Not bowing in worship.
Dying.
They clutched their throats. Their chests. Their heads. Their mouths stretched open in silent screams. The reptilian thing from before,the one that had collapsed earlier,was on its side, twitching. A winged creature with too many eyes had fallen from the sky and lay crumpled on the ground like a broken kite.
I was killing them.
Not on purpose. Not even trying. Just by being angry.
One Thousand Thirty forced himself upright. His face,already pale, already cracked,was the color of ash. He raised one trembling hand and made a gesture I didn't recognize.
Please, that gesture said. Please stop.
"Control your anger," he managed to whisper. His voice was barely audible. "You will kill them all. Accidentally. Please, my Queen. Please."
I looked at my hands. Golden. Glowing. Shimmering with light that wasn't mine.
These hands had changed diapers. These hands had wiped tears. These hands had made peanut butter sandwiches cut diagonally because Chloe said triangles tasted better.
These hands were killing thousands of creatures because I threw a book. I am not a savage. I am a mom, for heaven's sake.
I took a breath. Then another. The glow on my hands dimmed. Not much. But enough.
I thought about Chloe's laugh,the real one, the one she only did when she was truly happy, the one that sounded like bubbles popping. I thought about Mia's fierce little scowl, the way she would cross her arms and declare "I do it MYSELF" even when she clearly could not do it herself. I thought about Lily's chubby fingers reaching for my face, grabbing my nose, saying "Mama" in that breathless way that made my heart stop every single time.
I thought about being a mother.
Not a queen. Not a destroyer. Not an ancient being with power beyond comprehension.
A mother.
The glow faded to a soft shimmer. The pressure in the room eased. The walls stopped groaning. The dust settled.
One Thousand Thirty gasped,a real breath, the first one he'd been able to take since I threw the book. Outside the window, the thousands of monsters collapsed onto the ground, not dead, but barely alive. Their chests heaved. Their eyes were open. They were breathing.
I hadn't killed them.
Not this time.
I looked at One Thousand Thirty. He was leaning against a broken shelf, holding his chest, watching me with eyes that held something I couldn't name.
"I'm sorry," I said. My voice cracked. "I didn't mean,I wasn't trying to,"
"We know, my Queen." His voice was hoarse but steady. "You have never meant to hurt us. Not once in seven hundred thirty thousand years. Your power has always been... difficult to contain. Especially when you are emotional."
I looked down at my hands again. Still glowing. Still not mine.
"I'm not a queen," I said quietly. "I'm Jessa. I'm a mom. I have three daughters who are probably terrified and alone and I need to get back to them. I don't care about this realm. I don't care about your legion. I don't care about devouring the human world. I just want my kids."
One Thousand Thirty was silent for a long moment.
Then he said, "That is exactly what you said the last time, my Queen."
I looked up.
"Before you chose to forget. Before you created your human life. You stood on this very balcony and you said: 'I just want my kids.'" He paused. "And then you left. And you were gone for thirty years. And we have been waiting for you to return ever since."
Thirty years.
I have been a mother for seven years. Chloe is seven. Mia is three. Lily is one and a half.
If I have been gone from this realm for thirty years, then... Then my human memories are not real.Then my children are not,
No.
I refuse. Fucking hell no!
I am Jessa Freaking O'Reilly. I have stretch marks and a C-section scar and a husband who leaves his socks on the bathroom floor. I have a minivan with goldfish crackers ground into the backseat. I have a pediatrician's number memorized. I have a favorite brand of diaper.
That is real.
That has to be real.
I walked to the window. The shattered floor crunched under my feet. The monsters below were slowly, painfully, getting up. Helping each other. Checking on their wounded.
They looked at me. All of them. Thousands of faces, scales and fur and chitin and shadow, all looking up at their queen.
Their queen who had almost killed them because she got upset about a book.
"I need to think," I said. Not to One Thousand Thirty. To myself.
"Of course, my Queen."
"And I need you to stop calling me that."
"I cannot, my Queen."
I sighed. The crown was still on my head. The gown was still shimmering. The golden eyes were still glowing.
Somewhere, in a world that might or might not be real, my daughters might or might not be waiting for me.
But I was going to find out the truth. Even if it destroyed everything I thought I knew about myself. Even if it meant admitting that Jessa Freaking O'Reilly never existed.