She lay there, questions ricocheting in her skull, staring at every inch of her body like… well, she dunno, inspecting a car that someone smashed into a blender. Forest? Dark as, like, forget-the-sun dark. But her eyes? Adapted. Fast. Training. Old habits kicking in. Seeing here felt almost like daylight… almost.
"This… what the hell is happening…" she croaked.
And—yeah—her voice. Not hers. Not really.
Body? Nope. Not hers either.
She tried to focus, really focus… but her brain screamed. Pain, like someone shoved a jackhammer in there. Damn concussion.
She just… lay. Rest? Sure. Why not.
Then. Something. FLOODED. Her mind. Memories. Not hers. Tangled, like a yarn ball in a hurricane.
Brain… fried. Lights out. She passed out.
Half an hour later, eyes open. Sharp. Clear. Weird.
And the memories? Somehow fused. Weird sci-fi magic… or whatever.
She died. True.
But also… alive again.
Her body? Dead. Her mind, her brainwaves? Alive. And in Anya, eighteen, rich family, Ye family, Starfall Empire.
Anya. Eldest daughter. Mother gone. One full brother. Stepdad remarried. Seven months later… Luna shows up. Surprise sister. Fun. Family vibes.
Officially, she's Ye Weiguo. Grandpa Jonathan's idea. Hero, empire devotee. Loved her. Like a cat loves… boxes? Sure. Named her for glory, honor, blood for empire—big epic stuff.
Mom, Wendy, thought the name too manly. So… Anya. Everyone calls her that. Except Luna, troll sister, calls her Ye Weiguo in public. Crowd laughs. Classic sibling energy.
Grandpa Jonathan, sick a year ago. ICU. Old wounds, new illness… chaos.
Six months ago—will. Eldest granddaughter inherits all. Dad? Skipped. Family annoyed. Luna? Hates her to the bones.
Luna tried to… ruin Anya. Bad stuff. Murder. Body disposal. Full-on villainy.
Anya had really died from falling off a building. She smirked. Dark humor, weird satisfaction.
Anticipation. Luna's face. Priceless.
She sat up. Life 2.0. Injuries heavy, no delay allowed. Dead or crippled otherwise.
Forest wind. Chills. Shiver. Cold? How long since… apocalypse, global warming, centuries, forgot cold. Seasons? Nope.
Peaceful world. Beautiful. Wow.
Deep breath. Wound time.
She stared at two branches. Powers test. Nada. Not moving. Disappointing.
Abilities. Apocalypse thing. Environment unlocks powers. Like… animals evolving. Humans? Evolved. Called powers.
Strength = potential. Most have one. Anya? Two. Manipulation + materialization. Why undefeated. General. Millions of soldiers. Cool flex.
But now… just hands. Pain. Picked branches. Warrior habits.
Branches stabilized fractured calf. Other wounds? Scabs. Clothes torn, bandaged. Blood loss? Meh. No choice.
Cars outside. Roar. Engines screaming. Silence broken.
Mountain side.
Night. Darkness. Lights. Red + blue flags everywhere.
Row of luxury cars. Young dudes. Girls clutched. Early twenties. Rich playboys.
Then. Car. Luxury. Only one not from special plate. Respect everywhere.
"That's Mr. Ethan's car," woman said.
"No, boss," corrected young man.
Door opens. boss. Long leg steps out.
Man: tall, slim, white shirt, buttons undone. Collarbone. Casual rebel vibe. Not cheap.
Two young men approach. Leaning on cars.
"Ethan, why here today?" Sharp eyebrows. Tall. Strong. Boots.
"Just checking out," Ethan smokes. Mood weird. Racing tonight. Came to see.
"Since you're here, why not a round or two?" Younger guy, casual clothes, handsome smile, provocation. Hot take: "Mr. Ethan rarely comes, don't leave without racing a bit?"
Chase and Jason exchange glances. Smirk. Plotting. Mischief.
Side note: Forest smells like wet cardboard. Not important… or is it? Forget.