Author's POV....
Maelis opened his eyes in shock.
His breath came in a sharp gasp, chest rising too quickly as though he had been drowning and only just broke the surface. Air burned his lungs as he inhaled again, fingers curling into the soft fabric beneath him.
"Wait…" he whispered hoarsely. "Am I dreaming…? Am I still not in my senses?"
He lifted his hands slowly, holding them up before his eyes.
They were small.
Delicate.
Smooth, pale fingers with no scars, no calluses, no signs of hardship. Hands that had never struggled, never worked, never known pain the way his own hands once had.
His heart skipped painfully.
This wasn't right.
He pressed his palms against the bed, feeling the unfamiliar texture beneath him. Silk—softer than anything he had ever touched. He ran his fingers over the fabric again, disbelief tightening his chest. The bedsheets were silk. The blanket draped over him felt impossibly light, yet warm, as if it was made only to comfort.
Slowly, dread creeping into his bones, Maelis turned his head.
The room surrounding him was vast.
Ancient.
Magnificent in a way he had only ever seen in paintings, historical documentaries, or movies. Tall pillars carved with intricate designs rose toward a ceiling painted with faded gold patterns. Everything shimmered faintly in the warm light that filtered through heavy curtains.
Gold was everywhere.
The bed frame beneath him was carved from it, the headboard adorned with elaborate patterns. The curtains bore golden thread woven delicately into rich fabric. Even the smallest details...the edges of furniture, the handles, the frames—were gilded.
Luxury beyond imagination.
Luxury that felt suffocating.
Maelis swallowed hard.
This wasn't a hospital.
This wasn't home.
His hand brushed against something cool on his forehead. Frowning, he reached up and pulled away a wet white cloth, damp from where it had rested against his skin.
Only then did he notice them.
Several women stood quietly near the door.
All of them wore the same red-colored long dresses, simple yet clean, paired with practical white aprons. Their heads were lowered respectfully, eyes never daring to lift toward him.
One of them stepped forward, holding a silver tray. On it rested a large bowl of water and several folded cloths.
"Crown Prince," she asked softly, her voice careful, respectful, "are you feeling better now?"
Maelis blinked.
Crown Prince?
Before he could speak, the woman gently took the cloth from his hand. Her movements were practiced, familiar. As she leaned closer, Maelis noticed that her attire was slightly different from the others—subtly finer, more dignified. Her face bore gentle lines of age. She looked to be in her mid-forties.
A court lady, he realized vaguely.
He nodded slowly, unsure of what else to do.
"Her Highness has been very worried about you," the woman continued gently. "She stayed by your side for two days straight. Majesty ordered her to rest, but she refused until you showed signs of waking."
She placed the cloth back onto the tray and reached out, resting her hand briefly against Maelis's forehead, checking his temperature. Her touch was kind, maternal.
"I will inform them that you've awakened," she said with a warm smile. "Do you need anything, Crown Prince?"
Maelis's throat tightened.
He forced himself to speak, keeping his voice calm even as his thoughts spiraled violently.
"Excuse me," he said quietly, "what… what happened to me? And how many days was I unconscious?"
The woman nodded as if expecting the question.
"You fainted in the palace court, Crown Prince," she explained. "You've been unconscious for two days. When His Majesty and Her Highness heard the news, they rushed immediately. Several royal physicians were summoned—even from other kingdoms. Some are still on their way."
Her words echoed loudly in his head.
Two days.
Palace court.
Majesty.
Kingdoms.
Maelis felt his eyes widen, panic clawing at his chest.
None of this made sense.
Where was he?
Who was he supposed to be?
Why were they calling him Crown Prince?
Why was he in someone else's body?
His thoughts raced uncontrollably. The last thing he remembered....clearly, painfully.....was crossing the road. The sound of tires. The impact. His mother's scream through the phone.
Did I die?
Is this the afterlife?
Am I in a coma… hallucinating?
His chest tightened sharply.
His family.
His mother.
Milly.
Today was her birthday.
He had promised her a gift. He had finally found the novel she'd been asking for months. He had wrapped it so carefully, imagining her smile.
I need to go home.
The thought broke something inside him.
"I… I want some time alone," Maelis said quietly, his voice trembling despite his effort to suppress it.
The woman studied his face for a moment, concern flickering in her eyes. She nodded gently.
"Of course, Crown Prince."
She gestured to the others, and one by one, the women exited the room. The heavy door closed softly behind them, leaving Maelis alone.
The silence was unbearable.
Maelis slowly pushed himself off the bed, his legs weak beneath him. He stumbled forward until he stood before a large mirror framed in gold.
He looked up.
And froze.
The face staring back at him was not his.
It was younger. Beautiful in a way that felt unreal. Smooth skin. Sharp yet delicate features. Long hair falling loosely, brushing against his shoulders.
A stranger.
His breaking point.
Tears spilled before he could stop them.
"No…" he whispered shakily. "This isn't me."
His body trembled as sobs tore from his chest. He pressed his hands against the mirror as if it could give him answers, as if it could pull him back.
"I want to go home," he cried softly. "Please… I want my family."
His heart pounded painfully, each beat echoing with fear, confusion, and grief. He felt trapped....alone in a world he didn't understand, surrounded by luxury that meant nothing without the people he loved.
Outside the door, the palace stood silent.
And Maelis Ravencourt cried for a home that felt impossibly far away.