Darkness. Silence.

Then, light—blinding and warm—pierced through the void.

Aria's consciousness stirred, a heavy fog lifting from her mind. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as if she had been submerged underwater. Her body felt alien, her limbs unfamiliar and uncooperative. Slowly, her senses sharpened. She was lying on a bed, soft but worn, with the faint scent of lavender and ash lingering in the air.

"Where... am I?" Her voice was soft, unfamiliar—higher-pitched than her own. She froze.

Her hands shot to her throat, her fingers trembling as she touched her neck. These weren't her hands—smaller, more delicate, with faint scars etched into the pale skin. Panic surged through her as she stumbled out of bed, her legs weak and shaky.

She caught sight of a mirror on the far wall and staggered toward it, her breath catching in her throat.

A girl stared back at her.

Silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, shimmering in the dim light. Crimson eyes, sharp and intense, locked onto her reflection with a mix of fear and wonder. The face was unfamiliar yet hauntingly beautiful.

It wasn't her face.

Aria stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest. Fragments of memories began to flood her mind—images of grand halls, crackling flames, and a looming woman with fiery red hair and a voice like steel.

"Thalia," she whispered, the name slipping from her lips unbidden. And then, like a dam breaking, it all came crashing down.

She was Thalia Astoria, the illegitimate daughter of the Astoria family. Memories of a lonely childhood, her father's warm smile before his untimely death, and the cold disdain of her stepmother flooded her mind. The endless nights of feeling invisible—it all returned, overwhelming and suffocating.

But she was also Aria—a girl from a different world, a different time. She remembered the grim streets of her life before, the hunger that gnawed at her ribs, the bitterness of a life unlived. She remembered the screech of tires, the flash of headlights, and then... nothing.

"What's happening to me?" she whispered, clutching her head as the two lives tangled together. She felt like a marionette caught between two puppeteers, each pulling in opposite directions.

A sharp knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts.

"Lady Thalia, are you awake?" a timid voice called from the other side.

Aria—Thalia—swallowed hard, her hands gripping the edge of the dresser for support. "Y-Yes," she stammered, her voice cracking.

The door creaked open, revealing a young maid with wide brown eyes. "Lady Elira has requested your presence in the dining hall. She said not to keep her waiting."

Lady Elira. The name sent a shiver down her spine as memories of a domineering presence filled her mind. Thalia's stepmother. The woman who treated her coldly all her life.

"I'll be there shortly," Thalia managed to say, her voice steadier this time. The maid nodded and retreated, closing the door softly behind her.

Thalia turned back to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with an intensity that felt almost accusatory.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Okay," she murmured to herself. "This is real. Somehow, I'm here. I don't know why, but... I'm alive."

As she opened her eyes, a flicker of light danced across her palm. She looked down to see a tiny flame hovering just above her skin. It didn't burn, but its warmth was soothing, almost comforting.

Fire.

The Astoria family's power.

And then, like a whisper at the back of her mind, she felt it—something deeper, cooler, more fluid. A ripple of water that seemed to flow through her veins.

Wa-- water??

Her heart raced. She knew instinctively that this wasn't normal. Fire was the gift of the Astoria bloodline, but water? That was something else entirely. Something forbidden.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway brought her back to reality. Trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within her.

Whatever had brought her here, whatever fate had decided to give her this second chance, she knew one thing for certain: she couldn't let anyone know the truth. Not about the water, and certainly not about Aria.

With one last glance at the mirror, she straightened her shoulders and walked toward the door.

This wasn't the life she had known, but it was hers now. And she would fight to keep it.