PROLOGUE

They say everybody deserves a second chance.

But how many of us really do get it?

Every night I'd lay in bed reading how a reincarnated princess survives her cold-hearted father's temperament or how a reincarnated villainess takes revenge on those that wronged her. Illogical as it may sound, still, what I wouldn't give to be in their shoes? Or heels, for that matter.

Perhaps... this desire for a second chance is what drove me to link my hand with his that night... the night the wind howled like wolves.

Granted the odds were as odd as can be, the Ferryman still guided me to a second life, and I plan to live it to the fullest. Nevermind all indications point it to a r18 war royalty plot. How bad could it be? In the event it does turn out to be so, it appears I have star-crossed allies?

This time for sure, we will live the lives we want to. Not as husks. Not in shadows. No more of the same mistakes. We've each died once, lost a life we never got around to living. This time we will hope and dream and love without reservations or fear. Verily that's what second chances are for.

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Chapter One: Gods Bet

It's happening!

I can feel my consciousness slip into a body not my own. That fraud wasn't lying, it's really happening!

Almost there...

Just a little more...

There, I'm in. Oh thank goodness, I made it. I wonder whose body I'm in? Time to wake up and greet this new life. I wonder what sort of sight I'll first see? I hope it's festive.

...

..

.

I wake up to screams. Not very welcoming. A blurry canopy is all I can make out, my eyes must be watering. My thoughts freeze in their tracks as I register the voice screaming - hoarse and shrill. An ache in my throat. A tearing pain between my legs. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

My mind catches up with my new body, the numbness working like anaesthesia now wearing off, replaced by pure agony. My breathing becomes labored, as I tightly clutch the bloody bed sheets. Some mutters of consolation reach me as if from far away and warm hands caress my sweating forehead.

"My lady, breath! Breath, my lady!" Unfamiliar voices clutter around my already troubled consciousness that seems to have stopped functioning so I heed their words instead. Blinded by pain, deafened by my own screams, I do as they say.

I'm not sure how long it lasts. With a last grunt, eventually the pain starts to ease away. I blink tears down my eyes to get a clear look on what the hell just happened.

I see women in mourning. They weep in ghostly silence. A pin drops.

"How could this be?" One mutters through shivering lips.

"Ssh!"

"Ominous. It's an omen for the empire."

"Hush you! You'll wake up the lady!"

"What happened?" I mumble.

An eerie silence envelops the room. I try to sit up, not to much avail. I ask again, "What.happened?"

The maids back off. A nanny steps forth with a red bundle in her arms, making her way to me. There is kindness etched in her features.

Smiling gently, she places the little bundle beside my pillow. A baby yawns, an infant really.

'My baby' - I realize, laying my hand on the tiny body. Tiny nose, tiny fingers. An adorable little angel. Why were those wretched women making such a fuss about omens and whatnot? Honestly! I pat him lightly, keep patting him, as we both drift off to a merciful sleep.

*** ° ***

In the inner sanctum of my subconscious, I sway back and forth as memories worth of two lifetimes collide and clatter until I can't make sense of what belongs to which.

'They always made it seem so easy in novels' - a part of me thinks.

'Novels? What novels again?' - a different part of me wonders. Through my hazy memories sprawl out hundreds of books... and I remember.

It was always me with books in a 'well-ventilated' room. A strict father. A sickly mother, a disobedient brother. The dutiful daughter, me. Caught in the stereotypical 'my-daughter-will-be-a-doctor' web, never even got to pursue my dreams. Absurd really.

But nothing, nothing was more absurd than meeting you in that stony cell that stormy night. You said your name was Bale Zephon. And that they called you 'the Ferryman'. You asked if I had regrets and I said yes. You said if, given the opportunity for a second life, would I take it and I said yes. You said you did have the power to transfer souls but most didn't make it. Most did not make it. Knowing so, would I still take a leap of faith? I asked you only one thing: would there be divine retribution? You stayed silent. Then you told me about your gods; Gods who place bets on which souls you help will make it or not... they don't care if fate is altered same as they don't care if wars are waged. I said nothing. Just grazed my hand bloody trying to reach you through that narrow crack in the wall. Whatever you did with my hand worked. I made it, Bale Zephon. I made my way to a second chance.

I remember my past life properly. At the same time, I remember luxury I never had. Feasts, not my balanced meals, and gowns I could never afford. Wearing them, owning them, a life of glamour that I never lived --- it must have been hers. Lislen Silverais, you were treasured.

"Your Highness Silverais."

A deep voice beckons me from the other end of the room. Lapis Azuarli, the father of my child apparently. My husband does not take another step into the room.

"Your carriage leaves for the port to Castafiore Islands early tomorrow morning. I ask you be duly ready to depart." With naught but those cold words, he stomps away, leaving me staring at the sunshine pouring through the window, scavenging through someone else's memories, and finding what I was looking for.

Omen... was it?

I get it now.

Omen indeed.