Deborah's POV
I was resurrected?!
I was Lianora Lee.
The Lee family, the once-proud guardians of Hybrasil—one of the five Great Sky Cities.
But all of that had ended when Chad Baker, the man I once loved, led an army against us.
I hadn't seen it coming—hadn't realized the depth of his betrayal until it was too late.
He had slaughtered not just my family, but the entire city.
And then... he had killed me too.
I didn't know how long my soul had lingered in Magmell—the resting place for priestly souls.
Time was slippery there, meaningless.
All I knew was that two witches from the Blackwood family— Deborah and Maeve—had used an ancient spell, Necrobind, to pull me back, binding my soul to Deborah's body in Murias, one of four underground cities.
This body wasn't mine, though; it belonged to Deborah.
I remembered, as a child, hearing stories of Necrobind.
It required wizards or withes to sacrifice their own lives, each casting a wish to bring the soul back to the living world.
The one resurrected had to fulfill their wishes, or else the soul would face a fate worse than death itself—an unending torment, trapped between two worlds.
Now, I occupied Deborah's body—smaller, frailer than my own.
It felt strange, but I had no choice.
I had to learn to live in this new skin and, somehow, make it stronger.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts.
The screen flashed with a message from Cora:"Don't forget about the mixer tonight at 7! We're meeting at Mantis Bar, and please—ditch the old clothes and wear something fun, Deb!"
I didn't feel like going.
A mixer was the last place I wanted to be, but I needed to understand this world.
If Cora was close to Deborah, maybe she could give me the answers I was looking for.
After scrolling through some past conversations on Deborah's phone, I figured Cora must have been a good friend.
With that, I forced myself up, heading to the closet.
It was filled with dull, practical clothes—work boots, worn jeans.
Not exactly my style.
I grabbed a pair of scissors, cutting the jeans into shorts, and threw on a sports bra with an oversized jacket.
It wasn't glamorous, but it would do.
It took a while, but I finally made it to Mantis Bar.
At 32, I felt a little out of place among these twenty-somethings.
The bar was dark, chaotic. Flashing lights made it hard to make out anyone's face.
As soon as I stepped out, I discovered something astonishing.
My resurrection had gifted me a new ability—Telepathy.
All I had to do was lock eyes with someone, and their thoughts, their emotions, would unravel right before me.
The bar was chaotic, with dark lights flickering, making it impossible to see anyone's face clearly.
I weaved my way through the crowd until I found booth 23.
The moment Cora laid eyes on me, she froze.
I could see it clearly in her mind:
[Deborah, always the boring bookworm, suddenly transformed into a sultry vixen? My best friend—you look stunning! ]
Cora pulled me into the booth, whispering in my ear,"You've finally come to your senses."
There were eight of us, four men and four women, seated across from each other.
I was the last to arrive. Introductions started, but my attention drifted to a man sitting opposite me—Ryan Green.
His gaze lingered, full of a confidence that bordered on arrogance, sending suggestive glances my way.
I quickly looked away.
Telepathy wasn't exactly a gift in a noisy bar like this, where every stray thought crawled into my head, adding to the headache.
"Hi, I'm Deborah Wellspring," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. The moment I said Wellspring, I sensed the awkward shift in the group.
I glanced up, catching snippets of their thoughts:
[Wellspring? From Tirnanog, right? ]
Tirnanog? Where? But it was clear my surname didn't carry much weight here.
Cora, quick on her feet, added,"She's a scientist at Erius Institute, part of the Life Breeding Department."
That's when it hit me—this was where Deborah worked.
But beyond that? I had no idea about her field.
I lowered my head, desperately trying to think of ways to avoid getting caught.
And then Ryan made his move, throwing flattery my way.
Thanks to Telepathy, I could already tell what was coming.
His thoughts were all too clear, and they made my stomach churn. I didn't want to listen to his compliments, so I drowned myself in more alcohol.
At this moment, romance was the furthest thing from my mind.
After what Chad did—betraying me, slaughtering my family—men like Ryan disgusted me.
Love? It was something I had no patience for. Revenge, on the other hand, was all I could think about.
But Murias' drinks were stronger than I anticipated.
After only a few sips, I felt the dizziness creeping in, my vision blurring.
To escape Ryan, I got up, pretending I needed to go to the bathroom and clear my head.
But of course, he followed.
Just as I reached the door, Ryan stepped in front of me, his smile gone, replaced by something colder, more calculating.
"How long will you keep pretending?"