The maids had finished their work swiftly, the delicate movements of their hands and the hushed whispers of their soft voices a reminder of the life she had once known—a life of servitude and weakness. But now, in this new body, everything felt different. Her power, her grace, her very being—everything had shifted.
With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed them. The maids bowed in perfect unison before exiting the room, the sound of the door clicking shut lingering in the air.
She didn't need them anymore. She didn't need anyone.
Gianne turned, her eyes sharp and cold, and made her way to the grand balcony that overlooked a sprawling garden, filled with exotic flowers and lush greenery. She could feel the weight of the air against her skin, the chill of the morning mist lingering in the air, as though it was just waiting for her to claim it.
The wind tugged at the hem of her crimson gown, whispering secrets from beyond the garden walls. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting the silence wash over her. Her mind was buzzing with the memories—not just her own, but those of the witch whose body she now inhabited. The memories were strange, as if they didn't quite belong to her, yet they felt so familiar—vivid images of a woman steeped in magic and power.
*This was who I was meant to be,* she thought, her fingers gently curling into the railing of the balcony. Her past life, with all its failures, its heartache, and its bitterness, seemed like a distant memory—a faint echo she could barely remember. But the witch's memories… those memories burned bright within her mind. The ability to command, to control, to manipulate… it was intoxicating.
Her hand rose, almost instinctively, to the air before her. She felt the pull, the connection. Magic thrummed in the air, alive and responsive to her touch.
She smiled to herself.
But she wasn't going to play with that magic now. Not yet.
A soft knock on the door broke her reverie.
"Madam Gianne, the wine you requested," came the voice of one of the maids.
"Enter," she replied, her voice calm, steady—authoritative.
The door opened and the maid stepped in, holding a delicate crystal glass filled with deep red wine. The rich, intoxicating aroma hit her nose immediately, the sharp scent of berries mixed with something darker, something almost forbidden.
The maid approached, bowing low as she presented the glass. "Is there anything else you require, madam?"
Gianne took the glass from her hand with a fluid motion, her eyes never leaving the maid's face. She could see the unease in the girl's eyes, the respect, maybe even a little fear. She was a stranger in this world, yet already, the mere presence of her was enough to command respect.
"Leave me," she said softly, her voice laced with an unmistakable power.
The maid hesitated for only a moment before bowing again and exiting, leaving Gianne alone with her thoughts—and her wine.
She moved to the edge of the balcony, the glass held delicately in her fingers. Her eyes swept over the view below her—an elegant, sprawling kingdom that belonged to someone else. To someone she was meant to serve.
But not anymore.
She lifted the glass to her lips, the rich, velvety liquid dancing on her tongue, sweet and bitter all at once. She smirked, savoring the taste. The wine was intoxicating, yes, but the power it promised was what truly made her blood hum.
She could feel the witch's memories tugging at the back of her mind. The knowledge, the rituals, the dark arts. She could feel her essence merging with her own, and she knew that with every passing moment, she was becoming someone else—someone who had the potential to change everything.
She was no longer weak. No longer powerless.
She wasn't the girl who had been betrayed and left to die. She was Gianne now—powerful, dangerous, and ready for whatever came next.
And as the last of the wine disappeared from her glass, she allowed herself a wicked smile.
Her new life was just beginning, and the world would soon tremble at her feet.
But first… she had a score to settle.