The mirror didn't lie.
Mira stared at the unfamiliar reflection—lush curls that weren't hers, eyes a deep violet instead of her usual brown, and skin that shimmered unnaturally under the morning light. She wasn't just reborn…
She was transformed.
A knock interrupted her spiral.
"Miss Blackwell," a voice called gently through the door. "Your father is waiting for you downstairs."
Blackwell?
Her heart skipped. The name rang through her bones like thunder. Not a name from her old world—but one whispered in power, feared in boardrooms, and sealed in bloodline secrets.
Her feet moved before she could think, drawn toward the truth. Down the grand marble staircase, into a world that felt like fantasy.
At the bottom stood a man in an obsidian suit, tall, silver-haired, and cold as ice. His eyes flicked to her with calculation.
"You're finally awake," he said. "Good. We don't have time for weakness. The Board is already plotting your downfall."
"Board?" she echoed, her voice unfamiliar in her ears—deeper, stronger.
He turned away. "You'll understand soon. For now, remember your name."
He handed her a sleek black ID card.
On it, her photo. Her new name:
Amara Blackwell.
Age: 22
Status: Sole Heir to Blackwell Global
Classification: Mage-Blood Tier 1
Her fingers trembled.
She wasn't just reborn. She was CHOSEN
She was someone powerful… and hunted