Staring at the dish, she remembered her line of sight slowly darkening.
They said that when you're at death's doorstep, your soul would levitate out of your body, slowly rising up toward a familiar light.
But not for her. Her soul separated from her body downward like a tape slowly being separated from a surface, almost as if pulling, until it finally sinks her into a dreadful, still, bottomless abyss. Where darkness and emptiness engulf you.
She slipped into unconsciousness, falling back into that too-familiar void.
The moment she realized she was falling back into the vast expanse of darkness and nothingness, almost suddenly, an unseen force, like a string, yanked her back, sharp, sudden, bringing her toward wakefulness.
Her vision blurred as she opened her eyes. Shapes formed slowly, and the first thing she recognized was the worried faces of the elderly couple hovering nearby, concerned, distraught, remorseful.
A scent lingered in the air—burned fennel leaves. She felt a brief wave of comfort. "It should help with nausea," she somehow heard Vien say.
She heard muffled voices. Words floated through her dazed mind: "Elderberry… added to the gulyás…" She didn't catch everything.
But one thought pierced the fog—What happened?
Instinctively, distrust bloomed within her. Her body tensed. She pulled away from the couple, her breath shallow.
Orthan turned to Vien, his face drawn tight with concern. Vien—calm, but clearly puzzled—tilted her head and asked with soft, disarming curiosity, "Wait… dear… are you not immune to poison?"
At the word poison, she jolted. Her heart raced. Panic ensued and consumed her.
She bolted upright and stumbled into a sprint, desperate to escape. Every instinct, every nerve, every reason in her whole body screamed Run!
Run. Run… Run!
Her eyes frantically searched for the exit.
The door. Where's the door. I have to get out of here! These people are trying to kill me!
Her limbs felt weak, her knees trembled. But somehow, she managed to get away from the old couple. By the time she reached the door, nothing else registered; just instinct and terror.
Get Out. Get Out… Get Out!
She didn't stop to breathe, didn't stop to think. Her only goal was to get back to her cabin.
Why didn't I mark the trees on the way there? she scolded herself mid-run.
The trees surrounding her felt ominously imposing. Shadows danced and swayed at the edge of her vision, teasing and tricking her already distraught mind. The crunch of leaves beneath her boots and the snapping of branches were deafening.
The humid night air was cool and refreshing, and yet to her, it was suffocating. Smothering.
When the trees finally thinned and the clearing to her cabin appeared, she nearly collapsed from relief. Slowing down her pace, trembling and struggling to walk, step by careful step, she eased towards the only safety she knew.
Guarded and wary, she glanced behind her. No one followed, only dense darkness and the shadows between the towering trees
Back inside the cabin, still trembling, she frantically searched for the book on poisons and mushrooms: From Rot to Remedy: A Poison's Almanac.
Her hands flipped through pages until she found the one she was looking for—elderberry.
Aha.
Elderberry (Sambucus nigra)
- Habitat: Forest edges, riverbanks; Silvershroud Forest, Amaranthine Estate, Blazen Woodlands
- Appearance: Umbels of inky berries dangling like poisoned amulets, leaves serrated as a thief's grin.
- Toxicity: Raw berries release potent cyanide, resulting in convulsions, then asphyxiation.
Still trying to make sense of what had happened, she continued to read more about the plant.
In the nations of Ugarta, Azarette, and Kaelshara—regions known for strength and endurance—elderberry, despite its poisonous nature, was a staple.
The book detailed that, even though elderberry contained cyanide compounds, locals had learned to cook it in ways that neutralized its toxicity.
Over generations, they had developed an immunity, allowing them to harness its stamina-boosting properties.
She sank to the floor by the foot of her reading nook, still clutching the book in her hand. She slowed her breathing and calmed her mind. A sense of relief washed over her.
She pressed a hand to her forehead. Her thoughts spun. She let out a nervous laugh.
Glancing back at the bottom of the page, a note stood out: If poisoning symptoms appear after consuming raw elderberry, drink ginger root tea to counteract the effects.
Relief washed over her. Ginger root tea was a staple in her second life. She knew its healing properties well, and fortunately, she'd gathered some earlier.
She brewed herself a strong cup and drank. The effects were nearly immediate; her stomach eased, her senses calmed.
She burned some fennel leaves. The aroma wrapped the cabin in comfort. Despite thinking she'd prepared for the day, she now felt foolish. Ignorant. Unaware.
A heavy sense of regret and fear set in. "My third life," she whispered. "I can't live my third life so carelessly… I need to live it as preciously as I can."
Having to wake up in this world in an adult body was already a disadvantage."It would've been better if I were reborn here," she thought.
"Instead, it feels like I woke up in someone else's save point. I have to be more cautious. I know this much: I'm not a local. At least, this body isn't."
Remembering when Vien and Orthan mentioned Ugarta, Kaelshara, and Azarette… she realised she must be in Azarette.
Looking back up at the shelf, she reached forEchoes of Elioudra, the storybook about the world she's in, and flipped to the pages detailing each country. She was determined to learn more.
Exhaustion from running away from the elderly's cabin caught up to her.
The relief from the tea she drank and the scent of burning fennel leaves lulled her. She fell asleep with the book resting on her chest.
The next morning, just before preparing grilled fish and more ginger root tea, she noticed a package at the foot of her front door. No one was around. She sensed no presence.
She stared cautiously and skeptically down at the delicately wrapped package in dark brown hide and twine. She took it with her inside and set it down at the kitchen counter.
Untangling the twine knotted around the parcel, she opened it and carefully analysed its contents. She realized it could be from the elderly couple.
Who else?
She began setting the contents on the counter, one by one. Just as they had promised, three full sets of clothing and a comfortable sleeping chemise.
There were two long-sleeved, off-white gypsy tops with plunging necklines, designed to give way to her curvaceous chest that narrowed by the waist.
A raglan shirt followed, also with a plunging neckline, dark-blue quarter sleeves, and a white panel at the front and back.
Three pairs of cargo-style pants came next, each narrowing at the legs: one in juniper green, one in slate black, and one in cream-beige.
A pair of jet-black boots rested beneath them, reaching below the knee, with thick laces—sturdier than the soft, thinner ones on her old brown boots.
And finally, a black leather chest strap… and a heavy wool cloak in ash black.
She tried on one set, choosing the off-white shirt and juniper green pants. She struggled at first with the leather chest strap, it needed to be fastened twice beneath her chest.
She completed the look with the black, below-the-knee boots. The fit was perfect. Altogether, her appearance carried a military presence, like a soldier in training.
Wearing her new clothes, she felt… different. Stronger.
Her movements became more fluid, her limbs lighter, as if her body had been restrained until now. The fabric didn't just fit; it enhanced her.
She wondered if Vien had enchanted these garments with soul-binding techniques to allow for better durability and safety. The warmth Vien had made her feel somehow resonated through these clothes as she wore them. Like a tight motherly hug, bidding her safety towards her journey ahead.
Guilt tugged at her chest. She'd fled from their home with such fear and suspicion. She hadn't even allowed them to explain.
But they fed me poison! she reminded herself.
Yet now that she understood. Elderberry was local; harmless to them. It had been a terrible misunderstanding.
"Maybe they deserve a second chance. I should go back there and apologise."
She thought of bringing something to give in return for the clothes to the old couple. She wondered what they would like. Given their artisan background, she thought they might appreciate something handmade.
She snapped a portion of a tree branch that felt almost soft in texture and began carving. With the filleting knife in the kitchen, she managed to make two sakura flowers. A small token of apology.
One for Vien. One for Orthan.
She laced them with twine, fashioned them into pendants, and wrapped them carefully in leaves.
Tomorrow, she would return the kindness.
She imagined a scenario where she would tell the old couple about how sakura flowers represented a new beginning. She dismissed it, thinking that maybe they already knew that having lived for more than two centuries, by now.
She continued on her agenda for the day. Fishing and Foraging.
Wearing the new clothes, she moved about playfully, almost childishly. Waving her hands and attempting to kick around, and marching back and forth, imitating a young soldier. She had completely forgotten she had a female body.
Grace, finesse, and elegance was lost in that moment.
The next day, after finishing the rest of the previous day's leftover for breakfast, she made her way toward the elderly couple's cabin.
Vien and Orthan, sensing her presence from afar, rushed to meet her. Vien covered her mouth, gasping and teary-eyed.
"I'm so sorry, dear," she said, her voice trembling. "I was so worried… I'm relieved you're okay." Vien's hands almost reached for her in reassurance, but Vien held back.
"We truly mean you no harm," she added. "Please… come inside for some ginger root tea, dear. It'll ease any remaining discomfort." Orthan nodded gently, his expression calm and sincere.
Her, still a little perturbed and nervous, managed to gather her courage and nodded back. She followed them inside.
"You look stunning in that outfit, deary, I knew I made the right call," Vien said to calm her while staring adoringly at her in the clothes she gave.
"Ah, yes… Thank you for loaning it to me," she said shyly with a slight bow.
Ginger root tea was poured.
Vien and Orthan took the first sips, as if to reassure her. Then Orthan spoke. "Gulyás has always been a symbol of our love. It gives us strength. We only realized after you collapsed… it must have been the elderberry."
Vien added, "It's a common staple here. In Azarette, in Ugarta, where I'm from, and in Kaelshara, Orthan's homeland."
Ah, so I'm right. I am in Azarette.
They explained how odd it was that they encountered her in the heart of the Silvershroud Forest—an untouched, sacred region of Azarette where few dared to go.
"Most travelers avoid it here," Orthan said. "But it's rich in life. And dangerous, if you don't know the area," he claimed, like it was an obvious warning or common sense known by everyone.
She didn't utter a reply. She hasn't actually encountered anything, aside from the old couple, despite waking up here in an unfamiliar world.
Then, Orthan's tone shifted. "When you were unconscious… You shed a tear of blood," he said quietly. "Your skin was grey, lifeless. And then, the moment that tear fell… color returned to you. Just like that. And you woke up." Intrigue filled his voice.
Orthan's face looked both amazed and disturbed. "It reminded me of Azarette's fallen goddess. But we all know she shed tears of light… not blood. And I'm no expert in cooking and berries, but I don't think elderberry can make you cry tears of blood."
She was stunned. She had no memory of that.
She only recalled drifting into darkness—then waking.
"Vien and I are a bit perplexed, you see.." Orthan continued. "The history of Azarette is… limited. The capital keeps its royal archives sealed from public knowledge, so I can't really tell you more."
"My love, let's not instill fear on her even more. Don't be so quick to connect her with the Azarette Goddess." Vien gently placed a hand on Orthan's arm, as if to remind him to hold his tongue.
"You might have a medical condition deary, that we are unfamiliar with. You should go to the capital and have it checked." Vien added.
Her thoughts raced, baffled. She had completely missed Vien's advice about getting her eyes checked, and missed Orthan's concern about her tear of blood by a mile.
She hadn't been actively listening to the old couple, her mind too preoccupied with curiosity about the kingdom of Azarette.
Why would a kingdom hide its own history? What truths were buried so deep that even its people aren't allowed to know them?
She glanced around the quiet room, its flickering lanterns casting long shadows—like secrets stretching across generations. Feeling a sense of purpose, she wondered…
Maybe… maybe there's a reason I woke up here. In the middle of Silvershroud Forest. Here in Azarette. This world, Elioudra.
Of all the places in the vast expanse of darkness and nothingness… I woke up here? Why here? Why now?
It wasn't just a coincidence. It couldn't be.
The air hummed with something unseen, a thread tugging at her soul from some forgotten origin. Maybe… she was meant to be here.
She felt it deep in her bones; older than memory, stronger than doubt.
Not just the start of a journey.
A calling.
Something was beginning.
She thought she'd like to know more about Azarette—its secrets, its silence—but her thoughts were interrupted.
Vien and Orthan noticed how she was staring into space and not registering their questions anymore.
She was clearly lost in thought. To get her attention back, Vien purposely placed down her teacup to make a louder clinking sound on its coaster. And then Vien cleared her throat.
"My dear, where are you from?" Vien asked, her eyes studying her closely.
"You must understand how strange this is for us. We've lived here for so long with little to no human contact, and now… you're suddenly here. And poisoned by elderberry, no less—it's all quite peculiar, don't you think?" She tilted her head.
"Care to enlighten us, deary?"
She blinked, caught off guard by the question, but she couldn't blame them.
To the couple, she must seem like some strange apparition, appearing out of nowhere, half-dead from a poison all locals considered a staple.
She hadn't been here long—just days, really—and yet, somehow, everything already felt too vast, too ancient, and far too intentional.
She could hardly piece her own story together, let alone explain it to others. But looking at the elderly couple's expectant, curious, but worried faces, she made a choice.
No excuses. No lies. She would trust them. After jumping from one conclusion to another, she thought clarity would be the best option to proceed from here.
Specially, if she intended to have a better relationship with them, she needed to be honest.
Full transparency was her aim. How she got here. Who she was. All in or nothing.
She would trust them. She drew in a breath, then slowly exhaled.
"You're right," she admitted quietly.
"I don't know how much of this you'll believe, but…"
She paused, hesitated.
Then, with a voice low but steady, she met their gaze and said:
"I have lived, and died… not once, but twice."