When I opened my eyes, the world was painted in soft gold and green. Sunlight spilled gently through thin curtains, dancing across wooden walls that smelled faintly of pine and herbs. For a long moment, I didn't move. My body felt heavy—like I had drowned and somehow floated back to life.
I remembered the pain. The blood. The storm. The way my lungs burned as I tried to breathe.
And the voice. That melodic language—soft, musical, almost like a lullaby.
I'd heard it before… right before everything went dark.
A shiver crept up my spine.
Slowly, I sat up, my breath catching as my skin brushed against bandages wrapped carefully around my arms and ribs. Someone had treated me. Someone had saved me.
The door creaked open.
A tall woman entered, her silver hair glinting under the sunlight. Her steps were soundless, her presence… unreal. Her ears were long and elegant, her skin fair like moonlight. For a second, I could only stare—because she looked exactly like the kind of beings I used to read about in fantasy novels.
"Elenya," she said softly, pressing a hand over her chest. The sound of her voice sent chills through me. That language again. The same voice I'd heard in the blur of pain and screams when I gave birth.
I blinked, confused, my lips parting. "Wh… what did you say?"
Her brows knitted slightly as she studied me. She tilted her head, then spoke slower, her tone gentle, almost patient. When I still didn't respond, she began gesturing—pointing to herself again, repeating, "Elenya."
I realized it must be her name.
"I-I'm…" My throat felt dry. "I don't know who I am."
She gave me a faint, sympathetic smile. There was kindness in her eyes, something that made the panic in my chest ease just a little.
Another elf entered—the one I vaguely remembered seeing when I first woke up, right before the pain had consumed me. She carried a tray with light food and bottles glowing faintly blue. The two exchanged words in that musical tongue, glancing my way.
I didn't understand a single thing, but somehow I could feel what they were saying—hesitation, uncertainty. Maybe even fear.
When they paused, I lifted a trembling hand and pointed to my stomach. "My… baby?"
They both stopped.
Elenya's expression softened. She mimed cradling a child, then pointed toward the door and pressed a hand over her heart. I understood. Alive.
The breath I didn't realize I'd been holding rushed out of me as tears filled my eyes. Relief crashed through me like a wave. She was alive.
The older elf—calmer, colder—spoke again, her tone firm, and Elenya nodded reluctantly before setting the tray down beside my bed. I guessed she'd been told to let me rest. Before they left, I whispered, "Thank you," even if they couldn't understand.
When the room fell silent, I finally looked around. A simple bed. Wooden shelves filled with vials. A single mirror resting on a small table. My gaze fell to it, and curiosity—no, dread—pushed me forward.
The woman in the reflection wasn't me.
She had soft brown hair, pale skin, and hazel eyes wide with confusion. My hand touched the glass, trembling. "Who… are you?" I whispered, but the woman mirrored every motion I made.
A stranger's face. My body was gone.
And yet, somehow… I was here.
Transmigration? Reincarnation? The words from countless web novels I'd read flickered through my mind like ghosts. I used to laugh at those stories. Now, I was living one.
I lay back down, the ceiling blurring above me. My heart hurt. My head hurt. But more than anything—I missed the normal life I'd barely lived. My cramped apartment. My coffee mugs. The silence. The ache of loneliness that now felt almost… comforting compared to this.
Still, the thought that kept me alive wasn't returning home. It was the child. My child.
When sleep finally took me, it came in pieces—like fractured film reels flashing one after another.
A village under a cloudy sky.
People shouting.
A woman clutching her belly, boarding a carriage.
A name echoing through the air—
"Harriet! Don't go!"
The voice sounded desperate. Familiar. Mine… yet not mine.
I jolted awake, heart racing, my cheeks damp with tears. My chest hurt—like I was mourning something I couldn't remember.
"Harriet…" I murmured, testing the name on my lips. It felt foreign, yet heavy.
The door creaked softly, and Elenya stepped inside. She froze for a moment, studying me, then smiled. Her hand glowed faintly as she placed it over my arm—healing magic, maybe. The pain in my chest eased.
She said something again in her lilting language, then gestured toward the door. A faint sound followed—soft, weak, yet alive.
A baby's cry.
I covered my mouth, breath trembling.
Elenya nodded once, understanding, and motioned for someone outside. Moments later, another elf entered—carrying a tiny bundle wrapped in pale cloth. The crying grew louder, fragile and real. When the elf placed the baby into my arms, time seemed to stop.
Her skin was warm. Her breaths tiny. When her small hand curled around my finger, something inside me broke and mended all at once.
Elenya pointed at the baby, then at me, smiling faintly. Then she gestured again, lips forming a single word I somehow understood. Girl.
A daughter.
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I cradled her close. I didn't know who I was, or why I was here—but in this strange, impossible world, I had one thing that was mine to protect.
"My little miracle," I whispered, my voice breaking. "We'll live. No matter what world this is… we'll live."
And as her faint cries melted into soft breaths, the morning light outside turned gentle—like the world itself had promised to keep us safe.