Prologue
I had to be dreaming. Just moments ago, someone had confessed their feelings to me for the first time in my life, and now I found myself standing over the body of a lifeless corpse. The saddest thing is, I didn't know which of those facts was more unbelievable. The flashing of police lights around the corner snapped me to my senses. I needed to focus, and quickly. If I wasn't dreaming, I had better figure out what had happened and fast. Inhaling deeply, I began to inspect the body. Her only identifiable features were a set of brown hair and lifeless golden eyes. Her clothes made me pause. Despite the wine-red stains, I recognized them—an exact replica of a pair of clothes that I had bought online recently: cheap American Eagle jeans and a brand-less long-sleeve sweater. Unfortunately, drawing this comparison soured the happiness from the order arriving earlier this morning.
Another characteristic of our Jane Doe was that she had a jade necklace. The very same type of jade necklace that my mother gave me before she died. I breathed out a loud sigh mixed with disappointment and relief. This was painfully cliché. Nevertheless, I've solved the case. In fact, if not for her disfigured face I would have recognized the girl on the ground immediately. Her name is Viola Robins. The time of death was unknown and despite feeling very much alive at the moment, the corpse strewn across the ground was me. The likelihood of this being a dream just skyrocketed to 110%
My heart, it seemed, didn't get the memo that none of this was real and was attempting to violently leap out of my chest. Moreover, a cloud of darkness was creeping around the sides of my vision making it hard to stay conscious. It seemed dreamland had decided that my time of playing detective was up. I tried to wipe away the black spots in my vision with my hands, but they were here to stay. It was time to wake up. My eyes drifted closed. In an instant some form of invisible glue fused them shut. The overwhelming darkness made me tired beyond belief. To my surprise, as a recovering insomniac, I instantly fell into a slumber- my heart stopping turned out to be quite the sweet lullaby.
…
Chapter One
I awoke to the enticing aroma of baked goods and the warmth of a crackling fire. Despite being conscious, my eyelids clung together as if sealed by exhaustion. My body felt drained, and my parched lips hinted at a prolonged lack of water. How long had I been asleep? Such thoughts were interrupted by the crackle of a fire and an unfamiliar voice.
"You've had your rest. Now only the dead sleep this long, and thanks to me, you're no longer among them."
The voice, distinctly Southern but lacking any soothing quality, left me bewildered. What did she mean by "dead"? Could I have misheard? Maybe if I drifted back into sleep, I could make sense of it all. I succumbed to the pull of slumber.
"Falling back asleep, are we?" she said with a hint of sadness. "I can tell, you know. It's hurting my feelings."
Her words pricked at me, and I reluctantly opened one eye to find a girl whose appearance perfectly matched the voice. She looked dead.
A scene flashed before my eyes—images of a car speeding in my direction, another city casualty, a meaningless death.
I shuddered away the grim thoughts, concluding that this woman was clearly mad. After all, I was unmistakably alive.
The crazy woman placed a glass of water on the vintage nightstand, replacing my untouched one. I studied her, her dirty blonde hair dancing as she moved. She wore a plain white button-up tucked into a modest skirt, the hem brushing the unfinished wooden floor.
Any director in search of a star southern belle for their western movie would weep at the sight; auditions would be unnecessary. She was not just the star; she was the actress born for the role. The set director had done well too; the room resembled a grandmother's house, complete with homemade candles, vintage wallpapers, and rustic wood dominating the décor.
She returned with a smile, sitting near my bed, knitting, and humming. Her carefree nature captivated me, but I desperately needed more information.
My dry throat resisted my attempts to speak as I reached for the water glass. My struggle didn't go unnoticed, and the lady, abandoning her knitting, looked at me.
"Dying takes it all out of you. Please don't strain yourself, darling," she said, batting away my hand and picking up the glass. "That means you have to lie back down, you hear?"
I complied, lacking the energy for defiance. She lifted the cup to my lips, and as I drank, she remarked, "I know you have a million questions."
"Okay, so I'm dead. Does that make you an angel?" I didn't recognize the voice that left my lips. The kind of hoarseness that completely morphs your voice.
She giggled at my question, a radiant glow surrounding her. For a moment, wings seemed to materialize when you squinted just right.
"I am your assigned guardian after death. I suppose if you ignore semantics, you wouldn't be too far off."
I wished her outlandish explanation didn't perfectly fill the gaps in my memory. The car accident I pictured before. Those pictures were the only clear memories of the incident I had before this cabin. The moments afterward were a blur.
"I'm obviously not dead. This prank is tasteless," I protested. She examined her nails in response. My voice still was off, but it was clear enough that I'm sure she didn't mishear. I needed more information desperately.
"Will you at least grace me with your name miss Angel?"
"Why it's Angel of course, you guessed correctly" she replied, looking intently at a mirror in her hand. She was still playing with me.
"Very funny. And my name's not Viola; it's—"
"Amelia," she interrupted, ruining my sarcastic debut.
"Pardon?" I beamed confusion at her. She, of course, completely ignored me.
"Princess Amelia Delavue. Two seats away from the crown. Beloved by all." Her voice was singing songy filling me with the urge to smack her.
"What exactly are you talking about?"
"What exactly?" She put down her mirror, "Look dearest, It doesn't matter to me if you accept your death. Just know that the 'you' who was is no longer."
Now that was an interesting statement. It wasn't just my voice. My whole body had felt off. It seemed that my legs didn't reach as far as they usually did when laying on a normal-sized bed. My hair laid further down my back than usual. My teeth rested in my mouth in a strange way. It was unsettling, but easy enough to overlook given the right circumstances. Circumstances such as a random lady kidnapping you. An exasperating sigh snapped me back to reality.
"Seeing is believing as they say." Angel gave me the mirror, and I glanced at the reflection. I saw someone with my expressions and habits, but other than that, they were strangers. They had flowing blonde hair, sea colored eyes, pale skin, and pink cheeks.
"What did you do to me?" This was beyond a makeover; my entire facial structure had changed. The color of my skin, the size of my arms—this was not human. Angel, or whoever she was, was not human. The fact chilled the air, and the candles, slaves to the ambiance, flickered out.
"I wish I could explain, but there's simply no time. It seems I spent too much time on pleasantries. I can offer you only one set of advice." She walked around, lighting the candles one by one with a match. The fire, once comforting orange, now burned a sickly shade of green. "I don't even know how to start. Now Ame-Viola have you ever fantasized about being whisked away to the fantasy novels you've always loved as a kid?"
The question out of left field threw me for a loop. She looked puzzled at my silence before realizing that she had done something to my voice. She rectified it with a wave of her hand. I was starting to get annoyed. There was only one response. I took a deep breath in.
"Fantasy? You're going to have to be more specific. Fantasy is probably the richest and most varied genre out there. Sure, some of it is escapism, and that's fine, but it's not all just escapism. It's so much—"
"Did me saying we have little time mean nothing to you? Is everything a joke?" I nodded, earning a sigh.
"Believe me or not darling, you have been reincarnated into the body of Princess Amelia. For this, it cost the young princess her life."
"What do you mean her life—" Her hand went up, silencing me. I tried to protest, but my voice fell silent. I was Ariel, my hair turning red in frustration.
"Didn't your parents teach you not to interrupt? We only have a few more seconds." She lit the last candle in the room, and the temperature rose to sauna levels. "Due to the nature of your reincarnation, do not let them find out your true identity. If you do, then all this is for nothing." Her voice sounded dull as if she was already bored of me. She handed me a beautiful jade necklace
"Take this and good luck."
The second my fingers grasped the necklace, and my vision went out. I prayed it would be the last time I would escape unconsciousness like this. I was growing tired of these endless dream sequences.