I dreamed of Oxford that night.
Not the cultivation world, not ancient weapons or divine bows. Just... Oxford. The smell of old books in the Bodleian Library. Rain pattering against my dorm window. The taste of terrible cafeteria coffee that I'd complained about but would give anything to have again.
I woke up with tears on my face.
"Are you well?" Sharanga's voice was quieter than usual, almost gentle.
I wiped my eyes quickly, embarrassed. "I'm fine."
"You're not. You were crying in your sleep."
I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. The room was still dark – hours before dawn. Outside, the world was silent except for distant night birds.
"I dreamed about home," I whispered. "My real home. Not here."
Sharanga didn't respond immediately. When the bow finally spoke, there was something almost sad in its tone. "You miss your world."
"I miss my life." The words came out broken. "I miss my mom. My actual mom, who I'll never see again. I miss my friends, my research, my stupid little apartment with the heating that never worked. I miss being me. Aria. Not Aanya. Not a princess in a world that thinks I'm trash."
"But you are Aanya now."
"I know." I pressed my face against my knees. "And that's what makes it so hard. Because Aanya's memories are in my head too. Her mother's hugs feel like my mother's hugs. Her pain feels like my pain. I'm grieving for two lives at once – the one I lost and the one she lost."
The bracelet on my wrist warmed slightly, Sharanga's way of offering comfort.
"I've been bonded to many wielders over the millennia," Sharanga said slowly. "Warriors, heroes, gods. They all carried pain. They all lost things they loved. But they kept moving forward because they found something worth fighting for here, in this moment."
"What if I can't find that?" My voice cracked. "What if I'm just... pretending? Going through the motions because I don't know what else to do?"
"Then you pretend until it becomes real." The bow's voice was firm but kind. "You pretend to be strong until one day you realize you're not pretending anymore. You pretend this world matters until you find something in it that genuinely does. Grief doesn't disappear, little archer. You just learn to carry it while still moving forward."
I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall silently. "I'm so tired of being strong."
"I know. But you don't have to be strong every moment. Right now, in this room, with only me to witness – you can be weak. You can grieve. You can miss home." Sharanga paused. "And then, when dawn comes, you can put your armor back on and face the world again."
We sat in silence for a long time. Me crying quietly for everything I'd lost. Sharanga keeping vigil, a divine weapon offering comfort to a girl displaced across dimensions.
"Thank you," I finally whispered.
"For what?"
"For understanding. For not telling me to get over it or be grateful for this second chance."
"Who says it's a second chance?" Sharanga's tone turned wry. "Maybe it's just a different kind of trial. Either way, you're allowed to miss what you've lost while still fighting for what you have."
I took a shaky breath, wiping my face. "Okay. Okay. I can do this."
"You've been doing it for three weeks already."
"Three weeks." It felt like both a lifetime and no time at all. "In three weeks, I broke an engagement, bonded with a divine weapon, and started lying to literally everyone I know. My thesis advisor would be so disappointed in my research ethics."
"Your thesis advisor isn't here. You are."
"Yeah." I stood up, walking to the window. The sky was starting to lighten – deep purple bleeding into navy blue. "I am here. And I can either spend every day wishing I wasn't, or I can make something of this mess."
"There's the determination I bonded with."
I smiled despite the lingering sadness. "I'm still going to miss home."
"Of course. Missing something doesn't mean you can't build something new." Sharanga's voice turned softer, almost tender. "And perhaps, little archer, you'll find that home isn't always a place. Sometimes it's the people you meet along the way. The bonds you forge. The purpose you discover."
"That's surprisingly philosophical for a weapon."
"I contain multitudes."
I laughed – small and watery, but genuine. "Alright. Dawn's coming. Time to put my armor back on."
"Not armor. A mask. Armor protects you from harm. Masks hide who you really are."
"What's the difference when both keep you safe?"
"Armor is honest. Masks are lies. And eventually, little archer, you'll have to decide which you'd rather wear."
The morning brought a distraction from my melancholy in the form of a visitor.
"Princess Aanya, there's someone here to see you," Meera announced nervously. "She says she's from the Chandrasen family."
Priya. Of course.
I found her in the garden, looking completely at ease despite being on rival family territory. She wore light blue robes today, her hair elegantly styled. Playing the perfect noble daughter.
"We need to talk," she said without preamble. "Somewhere private."
I led her to a secluded corner of the garden, behind the old meditation pavilion that no one used anymore.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing's wrong. Everything's wrong. I don't know anymore." She sat down heavily on the pavilion steps, and for the first time, I saw cracks in her perfect composure. "Do you ever just... break down? Over being here?"
The question hit me right in my still-raw emotions from this morning.
"Last night," I admitted. "I dreamed about home and woke up crying."
"I do that at least once a week." She looked up at me, and her eyes were suspiciously bright. "God, I miss stupid things. Spotify. Bubble tea. My mom's cooking. Texting my friends. I even miss traffic jams and smog."
I sat down next to her. "I miss the internet. Just being able to look up anything I wanted to know. Here, information is locked behind sect libraries and family secrets."
"Right? And don't get me started on healthcare. I had a cold last month and they tried to give me some spiritual herb concoction that tasted like feet."
"I got a paper cut and they wanted to use 'healing qi.' For a paper cut!"
We both laughed, slightly hysterical. It felt good. Real. For the first time in weeks, I was talking to someone who actually understood.
"This is why I wanted us to be allies," Priya said quietly. "Because everyone else thinks this world is normal. They don't understand what it's like to be displaced. To carry memories of a completely different life. To miss things that don't even exist here."
"How do you deal with it?" I asked. "You've been here two years. Does it get easier?"
"Yes and no." She picked at her sleeve. "The acute homesickness fades. You stop comparing everything to your old life constantly. But there's always this... hollowness. This feeling that you're playing a role in someone else's story."
"Exactly." I exhaled slowly. "Like I'm wearing someone else's skin."
"That's why we need each other." She turned to face me fully. "Because with you, I don't have to pretend. I can just be... me. Kim Min-ji from Seoul, who died in a stupid car accident and woke up as a cultivation world princess."
"Aria from California via Oxford, who touched a cursed bow and got isekai'd."
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Two girls from Earth, trying to survive in a world of magic and martial arts.
"So," Priya said eventually. "Are we doing this? The ally thing?"
I thought about Sharanga's words. About finding home in the people you meet. About building something new while honoring what you've lost.
"Yeah," I said. "But I need you to understand – I have secrets. Things I can't tell you yet. Not because I don't trust you, but because they're dangerous."
"The thing from the vault." It wasn't a question.
"Maybe. But Priya, if I tell you, you become a target too. Some secrets are safer not knowing."
She considered this. "Okay. I can accept that. For now. But eventually, when you're ready – or when you need backup – you'll tell me?"
"Eventually. When it's safer. Or when I have no choice."
"Fair enough." She stood up, brushing off her robes. "In the meantime, let's help each other survive. I can provide information about the noble families, sect politics, and who's actually dangerous versus who just talks big. You can provide... whatever mysterious thing you're working on in those midnight training sessions."
"Deal." I paused. "Actually, speaking of dangerous people – what do you know about Aditi? The healer girl who's with Crown Prince Karan now?"
Priya's expression darkened. "Aditi? She's trouble. Acts all sweet and innocent, but I've heard rumors. People who cross her tend to have very bad luck. Accidents. Illnesses. Nothing that can be traced back to her directly, but the pattern is there."
"Do you think she uses poison?"
"Poison?" Priya looked at me sharply. "Why do you ask?"
I hesitated, then decided to trust her with this much. "Because I think she might have poisoned original Aanya. The day before I transmigrated, Aanya drank tea that tasted bitter. Then she died."
Priya's eyes widened. "Oh my god. That would make sense. Aanya was engaged to Karan, but Aditi wanted him. Get rid of the competition, look innocent while doing it..." She grabbed my arm. "Aanya, you need to be careful. If she realizes you're not the same person, if she suspects—"
"I know. That's why I'm keeping my head down. Acting harmless." I squeezed her hand. "But I'm also not going to let her get away with murder."
"Good. Because that bitch needs to go down." Priya's smile turned sharp. "And I would be delighted to help make that happen. Consider it a transmigrator solidarity project."
As she left, I felt something shift in my chest. Not quite hope, but maybe the beginning of it. Maybe Sharanga was right. Maybe home could be people, not just places.
That afternoon, I returned to my secret training ground with renewed determination.
"Your emotional state is more stable," Sharanga observed. "Good. Cultivation requires mental clarity."
"Talking to Priya helped. And our conversation this morning." I nocked an arrow. "You're surprisingly wise for a weapon."
"I've had three thousand years to develop wisdom. You'd be surprised what you learn when you're passed from hero to hero, watching civilizations rise and fall."
I paused mid-draw. "That sounds incredibly lonely."
"It was. Until now." The bow warmed in my grip. "You're the first wielder who's actually talked to me like I'm a person, not just a tool."
"You're not a tool. You're my partner." I released the arrow. It flew true this time, hitting the target dead center. "We're in this together."
"Together," Sharanga echoed, and I could hear the smile in its voice. "I like that."
We trained for hours, and for the first time, it didn't feel like grueling practice. It felt like two friends working toward a common goal.
My accuracy was improving dramatically. What had taken weeks to develop was now coming naturally – the breathing, the stance, the energy flow through my meridians and into Sharanga. We were synchronizing.
"You've reached Body Foundation Level 3," Sharanga announced as I hit another perfect shot. "At this rate, you'll reach Spirit Awakening Realm within two months."
"Is that fast?"
"For weapon cultivation with a divine weapon? It's average. For someone the world thinks is powerless? It's impossible." The bow's tone turned serious. "Which is why you need to keep hiding it. The longer you remain underestimated, the stronger you can become before anyone realizes you're a threat."
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold, I sat down on a fallen log, catching my breath.
"Sharanga?"
"Yes?"
"When you said your previous wielders found something worth fighting for – what did they find?"
"Different things. Love. Justice. Revenge. Glory. Peace." The bow paused thoughtfully. "What matters isn't what they fought for. It's that they found something that made them feel alive again. Something that made this world feel real, not just a prison they were trapped in."
"I haven't found that yet."
"You will. You're already starting to – you just don't realize it." Sharanga's voice turned gentle. "You found an ally today. Someone who understands your pain. That's the beginning of building something real here."
I watched the sunset, thinking about Priya's tear-bright eyes. About Meera's worried care. About my transmigrated mother's genuine hugs. About Sharanga's unexpected friendship.
"Maybe you're right," I said softly. "Maybe home isn't a place. Maybe it's moments like this – sitting here, watching the sunset, knowing I'm not completely alone anymore."
"That's one of the wisest things you've said yet."
"Don't let it go to my head. I'm still a mess most days."
"We're all a mess. The trick is finding beauty in the chaos."
I smiled, standing up to pack my things. "When did you become a philosopher?"
"Around year one thousand. I got bored being just a weapon."
As I made my way back to the city, the forest grew darker. I was careful, keeping to the path, aware of every sound.
That's when I noticed them.
Footsteps. Behind me. Trying to be quiet but not quite succeeding.
I didn't run. Didn't show fear. Just kept walking, hand casually near where Sharanga's bracelet rested on my wrist.
"Princess Aanya." A voice called out. Male, unfamiliar, with an edge of cruelty.
I turned slowly. Three men stepped out of the shadows. Cultivators, based on the energy radiating from them. Body Foundation Realm, maybe Level 5 or 6. Higher than what I was supposed to be, but nothing I couldn't handle if I revealed my power.
But I couldn't reveal it. Not yet.
"Can I help you?" I kept my voice steady, playing the defenseless princess.
"We've been paid to deliver a message," the leader said, cracking his knuckles. "Someone wants you to stop asking questions. Stop visiting the royal vault. Stop pretending you're more than the Trash Princess everyone knows you are."
Aditi. This had to be Aditi's doing.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just studying history—"
"Save it." He stepped closer. "We're going to make sure you understand. Nothing fatal, of course. Just... persuasive."
They moved to surround me, and my mind raced. I could fight them off with Sharanga, but that would expose everything. But if I didn't fight, I'd get hurt. Possibly badly.
Before I could decide, a voice cut through the tension.
"That's far enough."
Priya stepped out of the trees, her cultivation aura flaring – Soul Manifestation Realm, far more powerful than these thugs. Ice formed around her hands, the temperature dropping noticeably.
"The Chandrasen princess," the leader said nervously. "This doesn't concern you—"
"It concerns me when three men corner a single girl in the woods." Her voice was cold as her ice. "Leave. Now. Before I decide to report this to the city guard. Or worse, to your employer about how you failed."
They hesitated, clearly weighing their options. Eventually, survival instinct won out. They fled back into the forest.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "You followed me."
"Of course I did. You think I'd let you train alone in the woods after we just talked about dangerous people?" Priya's cultivation aura faded, and she looked at me seriously. "Aanya, someone just hired thugs to threaten you. This is escalating."
"I know. And I think I know who's behind it."
"Aditi?"
"Who else? I broke the engagement, which should have made things easier for her. But she's worried I know something. Or that I'm planning something." I looked at Priya. "Thank you. For following me. For saving me."
"That's what allies do." She smiled. "Besides, you'd do the same for me."
"I would. I will."
We walked back to the city together, and I felt grateful. Not just for the rescue, but for the confirmation that I wasn't alone in this world. That I had someone watching my back.
When I got back to my room, there was a letter on my desk.
My hands shook slightly as I opened it:
"Stop your research. Stop your training. Return to being the powerless princess everyone expects, or next time my associates won't be so gentle. You have one week to comply. - A Concerned Party"
I read it twice, then handed it to Sharanga to "read" through our bond.
"Aditi's getting desperate," the bow said. "That's actually good news."
"How is a death threat good news?"
"Because desperate enemies make mistakes. And mistakes create opportunities." Sharanga paused. "But she's right about one thing – you need to be more careful. Maybe reduce the visible research. Make her think she's winning."
"While I actually train harder in secret."
"Exactly. Let her think you've been cowed. Meanwhile, get stronger. So when she makes her move – and she will – you're ready."
I burned the letter, watching it turn to ash.
"No more midnight training sessions in the same spot. I'll find new locations. Rotate them."
"Smart. And perhaps ask Priya to help you identify Aditi's network. Know who's watching you."
"Already planning on it." I collapsed onto my bed, exhausted. "Three weeks ago, I was studying for my thesis defense. Now I'm dodging assassins and plotting revenge."
"How are you feeling about that?"
I thought about it honestly. "Terrified. Angry. But also... alive. For the first time since I got here, I feel like I have a purpose. Something worth fighting for."
"There it is. That's what I was talking about. You've found your reason."
"Justice for original Aanya. Protection for myself and the people I care about. Proving that being underestimated doesn't mean being weak." I smiled at the ceiling. "Yeah. I guess I have found something worth fighting for."
"Then sleep well, little archer. Tomorrow, we train harder."
As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about home. About Earth. About everything I'd lost.
It still hurt. It probably always would.
But maybe – just maybe – I was starting to build something worth staying for.