The first thing she noticed was the silence.
She wasn't on the cold floor anymore, nor was she gasping for breath. No, this was something else entirely—something foreign and… unnerving.
She was standing, her body straight and balanced, as if the world had shifted beneath her without so much as a ripple.
Her reflection stared back at her from the full-length mirror across the room. She wasn't who she remembered being—not at all. The face staring back at her was a stranger's, yet it felt like it belonged to her. The sharp, angular features, the delicate nose, and those eyes—emerald green, glowing like they held the secrets of centuries. Her hair, long and black as midnight, cascaded down her back like a dark wave, shining in the soft light.
Her skin was pale, almost ethereal, and there was an aura of power surrounding her. She was a vision of nobility, of grace, and yet there was an undeniable edge—a dangerous, sharp edge to the woman in the mirror.
*This is me now,* she thought, her fingers tracing the outline of her face. The name that echoed in her mind—Gianne—felt both foreign and familiar, like a half-remembered dream.
She studied herself for a moment longer, taking in the details of this new, powerful form. She was beautiful, yes. But more than that, there was something about her gaze, something that spoke of confidence, ambition, and maybe even darkness.
As she continued her silent contemplation, the door to the room creaked open. A soft voice called out from the threshold.
"Madam Gianne, you are awake."
She turned sharply, her emerald eyes narrowing for a brief second, instinctively sizing up the person who had spoken. A woman stood in the doorway, her eyes full of respect as she gazed at Gianne. The woman looked like she was in her mid-thirties, dressed in a simple but elegant servant's dress, her expression neutral yet attentive.
Gianne's voice was smooth, commanding as she responded. "Yes, I am. What is it?"
The woman hesitated for a moment before bowing her head slightly, her tone respectful. "I've come to let you know that your maids are ready for your morning routine, madam. Shall I call them in?"
Gianne's lips curved into a subtle smile. "Yes, bring them in. I have no time to waste."
The woman nodded and stepped back, and moments later, four maids entered, their steps in perfect harmony. They wore matching outfits, the soft fabric rustling as they moved with grace and precision.
Without a word, they set to work—one of them approaching Gianne with a basin of warm water, another with a set of delicate towels. One of the maids, a younger girl, set a small tray of fruit and pastries on the nearby table, while the rest moved to prepare her for the day ahead.
They were efficient, tending to her every need without speaking much, as if this was all routine. But Gianne noticed their glances, the reverence in their eyes as they worked. There was something about her new persona—her new presence—that left no room for questions or hesitation.
The maids undressed her quickly, their touch gentle yet respectful. The air felt thick with an unspoken tension, as if they were afraid to disturb the quiet. The whole process felt… familiar. As though she had done this countless times before.
Gianne was led to a nearby bathing chamber, where hot water awaited her, scented with rose petals and lavender. She sank into the water, the heat soothing her body, and for a moment, she let herself relax. But as the warm water wrapped around her, a strange sensation prickled her skin—a deep sense of power she had never known. It was like a magic that had lain dormant within her, waiting to awaken.
Her fingers flexed beneath the water, and for a brief moment, she thought she might be able to summon something. A spark of magic, perhaps. Something more than just the ability to control her surroundings.
But the moment passed, and she settled back, taking in the beauty of her new existence.
Once her bath was complete, the maids helped her dress in an elegant gown of deep crimson velvet, accented with black lace that seemed to shimmer in the light. It was a gown fit for a noblewoman—or a queen. She could feel the weight of the fabric as it settled around her, and the sensation only strengthened the sense that she was meant for something greater.
She was no longer the woman she had been. No longer the weak, betrayed soul from her past life.
She was a new person, in a new body, in a new world.
And whatever secrets this life held, she was ready to uncover them.