Summoned to the new world
The night was still and the hum of electricity filled her room she sat at her desk finishing her assignments for tomorrow. Sleep tugged her eyelids, but she fought it off, one sentence at a time.
Five more minutes, She told to herself.
She didn't notice the soft glow pooling over her open window. It shimmered over like a moonlight, and warmer... And wrong. It drifted inside, brushing against her skin.—
—and a world fell away
She woke up, with silk sheets and golden light.
And high ceiling above her, carved with delicate constellations. A velvet curtains swayed beside the balcony. The mattress beneath her was softer then anything she ever touched.
She immediately sat up. Hear pounding.
Where am I!?
Then suddenly, camed a voice.
"Ugh! Finally, awaken. Took you long
enough."
She yelped, looking around.
"Down here, genius. No — inside Obviously.
She feoze. inside?
"Yes. Your in my body, and I'm still
Here. Stuck behind your clumsy
Control!"
That voice was refined and rude. The voice was echoing inside her skull.
"I don't know who you are. But that's
my body!. I'm Princess Jazmin
Windemere of Eurotopia. And You
Whoever you are, are a invader!"
Her throat went dry. She stumble to the edge or the massive bed, catching a sight of herself in the mirror across the room.
But that wasn't her reflection.
Short, dark hair. So, silky and straight. Her skin fairer and eyes sharp, reflecting like a leadership. The face looks elegant— aristocratic.
That's not me!
"Pft! Obviously not." Jazmine's
Voice cut in again. "Now, stop
Gawking and get up. Servants will
Be here soon. Your expected in
Court."
Court? She panicked. But I don't even know where I am!?
"Because where royalties, and
Royalies has responsibilities.
Don't embarrass me or yourself!"
"You mean don't embarrass you. You bossy ghost!"
"Ghost! I'm not a ghost! I'm a
Rightful soul of this body. You
Stray parasite!"
The girl closed her eyes shut, her breathing sharp.
This has to be a dream.
But the silk, the smell of morning roses. And the footsteps outside the door— was really real. Too real.
She was no longer in her world.
And worse— she wasn't alone inside her own head.
The heavy double doors creaked open. Two maids entered, bowing low, and began preparing her without a word. One adjusted her hair, the other laid out a flowing navy gown threaded with various colorful gemstones. The girl stiffened as their hands worked over her, but she said nothing.
> "Stop glaring," Jazmin muttered inside her mind. "A princess doesn't flinch when being dressed. You'll give yourself away."
I have no idea what I'm doing, she shot back. You think I want to parade around as royalty?
> "Then swap back and be gone."
If I knew how, I would've already! she snapped.
---
Minutes later, she stood at the threshold of a throne room—no, a council hall, its floor polished like a mirror. Statues of saints and rulers lined the walls, casting long shadows.
And at the far end, a small ceremonial throne waited. Not a ruler's chair. A placeholder seat.
She's not the Empress, the girl realized.
> "Yet," Jazmin whispered.
A steward cleared his throat beside her. "Your Highness, if you please…"
She forced her feet forward, shoulders straight, just like walking down the school hallway—but everyone bowed.
Guards, nobles, even advisors with cold, unreadable faces—they all bowed to her.
She sat, hiding trembling hands beneath flowing sleeves.
---
"Bring in the prisoner," an elder noble declared.
Iron doors creaked. Chains clinked.
A teenage boy stepped in, shoulders straight despite the cuffs at his wrists. His coat was torn, boots dusty, eyes sharp as blades. He didn't look like a thief or a traitor—he looked like someone who had seen through the lies of the world and chosen not to play along.
Whispers filled the room.
"That's him… the one who killed all the miners"
"…a wizard, isn't he?"
"…cursed knowledge… royal secrets…"
He stopped at the center of the hall and raised his eyes.
And locked them on hers.
Her breath caught.
He didn't bow. But, he was scared and anxious almost at the verge of trauma. He simply looked at her—not with reverence, but recognition, as if he was trying to tell to let him go.
> "He shouldn't be doing that," Jazmin hissed in her mind. "Make him bow. He's accused of treason!"
But the girl couldn't speak.
There was something about the boy. His posture. His shivering. And—was that a thin black marks under his eyes up to his chin.
"I request no mercy," the man said at last. "Only truth. But truth, in this court, has been buried beneath fear and favors."
"You stand accused," said the steward. "Do you deny the charges?"
"I didnt do anything wrong, it wasn't my fault!."
He looked at the girl again.
Her heart raced.
> "He's mocking you," Jazmin snapped. "Sentence him. Show them you're not weak."
*I don't even know what the charges are! she shouted inside.
> "It doesn't matter. Power must be seen. Or it will be questioned."
The hall waited.
Her hands were ice.
And in her mind—two souls argued. One desperate to survive. One desperate to rule.
•~•