The floor was cold, and that was the first thing Kaila noticed, not as a thought, just as a feeling—sharp enough to cut through the heat that had been clinging to her all day. For a moment, it was almost relieving.
The smell of cleaning chemicals lingered in the air, strong and familiar, settling in the back of her throat. Somewhere nearby, people were talking, but it all sounded far away. When someone said her name, she heard it, but it didn't really register.
She tried to move, expecting at least some kind of response, but nothing came. There was no pain, no real sense of weakness—just an absence, like the connection between her body and her thoughts had quietly slipped away. She needed to get up. There was still work waiting. There was always something left undone.
Her sister came to mind, small and patient, and she didn't let herself stay on it for long.
Not now.
The pressure in her chest got worse, and her breathing felt uneven, like she couldn't quite finish one. She tried to move again, putting more effort into it this time, but her body didn't respond. The cold beneath her started to fade, and the voices faded with it.
Then everything else followed.
—
Warmth came back slowly, settling over her skin in a way that felt even and unfamiliar. Kaila stayed still at first, letting herself sit in it, because something already felt off. Her body didn't carry the usual weight or soreness; it felt lighter than it should have, like something had been taken away.
When her fingers moved, they did so easily, without the hesitation she expected. The lack of effort made her pause more than anything else.
She took a breath, and it filled her chest more deeply than she was used to, smooth and clean in a way that didn't feel right.
Her eyes opened.
Light spread across her vision, soft and golden, and it took a moment for her surroundings to settle into focus. The ceiling above her was higher than it should have been, patterned in a way that made it difficult to follow for too long.
She pushed herself upright, expecting the familiar strain, but it never came. Her body responded too readily, and the lack of resistance left her sitting there a second longer than necessary.
When she looked down at her hands, she knew immediately that something was wrong. The color was too even, the surface too smooth, catching the light in a way that didn't feel natural.
She pressed her thumb into her palm. It felt real, but it didn't feel like hers.
A quiet sound left her, and the moment she heard it, she stilled. Her voice was different—softer, clearer, unfamiliar in a way she couldn't ignore.
Her heartbeat quickened as she stood, bracing out of habit. Still, nothing happened. No dizziness, no shift, nothing to steady herself against. That unsettled her more than anything else so far.
She looked around the room, taking in the details more carefully now. Everything felt untouched, too perfect, as though nothing had ever been used. Even the light from the windows settled too evenly across the space.
As she moved forward, her attention caught on a mirror positioned along the wall. She approached it slowly, already uneasy, and when she finally stopped in front of it, the realization came without hesitation.
The girl staring back at her wasn't her.
The reflection moved with her, but it didn't feel right. Her hair looked different, her skin too, and even the way the light hit her felt off in a way she couldn't explain.
She leaned closer without really thinking about it.
Green eyes looked back at her.
They weren't hers.
She lifted her hand and pressed it against the glass. It was cold and solid, and for a second, she focused on that more than anything else.
Footsteps suddenly sounded behind her.
She turned as the door opened and two women stepped inside. They moved easily, like they were used to being there, and when they looked at her, there was no hesitation in it.
They bowed.
"Princess Lailyra."
The name settled into the quiet.
Kaila didn't respond. Her attention drifted back to the mirror, to the unfamiliar face staring back at her.
The name didn't feel like hers.
But it didn't feel entirely unfamiliar either.