The rain wouldn't stop.
It tapped against the window like impatient fingers, each drop pulling me deeper into the hollow ache inside my chest. The room smelled faintly of the chamomile tea I never drank. It had gone cold hours ago.
My name is Amara Bloom-or at least, that's the name the world knew. A name my mother once said was as pretty as a garden in spring. I used to believe her.
Somewhere far away, a clock chimed midnight. And then... there was nothing but silence.
The edges of my vision blurred. My body felt light, almost weightless, as if the rain had washed me away from the world.
When I opened my eyes again, the world was... different.
Soft candlelight danced on painted walls. The air smelled faintly of roses and polished wood. And somewhere nearby, a voice spoke my new name with careful, reverent tones-
"Lady Amarantha Blythe, you're awake."
...
The world was swaying.
Not in the gentle way of drifting dreams, but in sharp, jolting movements that made my head spin.
My vision was hazy, but I caught flashes - a ceiling of carved wood, a blur of white lace, the rustle of heavy skirts.
Arms were wrapped around me, holding me too tightly, almost crushing. The woman's breath came in short, wild bursts, and her voice trembled with something between laughter and sobbing.
"Oh, my little blossom, I've got you now... they won't take you away-"
"Clara!" The voice was sharp, commanding. It cut through the chaos like a blade. "Give the child to me. Now."
Through my half-lidded eyes, I saw her - tall, elegant, dressed in layers of pale silk. The Duchess. Her expression was cool, but her eyes burned with something fierce and protective.
The maid clutched me tighter, muttering something I couldn't catch. My small hands were pinned between us, and I realized... they were tiny.
What's going on? Why am I so small? Why-
"Clara," the Duchess's voice softened, though steel lingered beneath. "You're scaring her. Give me my daughter."
My daughter...?
Before I could think, I was pried free from the maid's arms and pulled against the Duchess's warm, perfumed embrace. The pounding in my chest didn't slow, but for the first time since waking... I felt safe.
---
The Duchess cradled me close, one gloved hand cupping the back of my head as if I were something fragile and irreplaceable.
"There, there, my darling Amarantha," she murmured, her voice gentling to a lullaby. "Mama's here now. You're safe."
Amarantha?
My breath caught. That wasn't my name. My name was-
No. That name belonged to another life. A life that had ended in rain and silence.
Her perfume was a soft blend of roses and vanilla, rich but comforting. I could feel the faint vibration of her heartbeat where my cheek rested against her silk bodice. Every sound, every sensation was too sharp, too vivid - the rustle of her skirts, the tick of a grandfather clock somewhere behind us, the distant thunder outside.
I tried to move my arms, but they were so small, so weak. The hands I saw weren't mine - they were chubby, pale, and no bigger than a tea saucer.
Panic began to curl in my chest.
Where am I? Why am I like this?
The maid, Clara, was on her knees now, sobbing into her apron. "I... I just wanted to keep her close. She was gone for so long-"
The Duchess's voice turned cold again. "You forget your place, Clara. This is the Duke's daughter, not your plaything."
Daughter. Duke. Duchess.
The words felt like puzzle pieces clicking together in my mind, but the picture they formed was impossible.
The Duchess adjusted her hold, tilting my face up toward her. Her eyes were the kind that didn't just look at you - they saw you. "Do not fear, little one," she whispered. "You're home now."
Home.
I didn't know this place. I didn't know this life.
And yet... I had the strange, creeping feeling that I wasn't going anywhere.
---