A tear of blood slipped from her eye.
Her pale, almost ghost-like appearance softened; life breathed into her once again.
Her eyes still looked sunken from days of being bedridden, but there was color now.
Warmth.
A pulse.
Dawn peeked over the horizon just as her eyes fluttered open. She blinked. Everything was still a blur. Her head throbbed.
What the hell just happened?
A looming presence made her turn her head, stiff and slow. Time felt frozen as she stared at the thing standing beside her.
She held her breath.
They locked eyes for what seemed like eternity.
The eyes of this thing were imposing.
Intimidating. Unblinking. Too intense…
As if it could see right through her, its stare felt almost omniscient, as if staring straight into her soul.
She felt judged. Unworthy. Pathetic. Mocked.
It leaned in just a little bit closer as it stared. Before she could fully register what she was seeing, she blinked.... and it vanished.
What is that? A bird?
The bird looked familiar. But she couldn't place it. Couldn't remember where she'd seen it.
She took slow, deep breaths before she pushed herself upright. Her body protested, aching and weak, but she wasn't about to rot in bed again.
"I can't spend my third chance at life like this," she muttered to herself.
She scoured the cabin for food. She needed to nourish herself back to life. Her limbs were heavy, her stomach knotted with hunger.
No one was coming to save her.
No one but herself.
Thankfully, she'd preserved some smoked fish the other day. It wasn't much. It would've been better with rice and soup—comfort food from her second life—but she made do.
After eating, the grime on her skin became unbearable. She needed to bathe. The sickness of lying in bed for days clung to her clothes, her skin, her thoughts.
And then she remembered how happy she'd been when she first wore these clothes. How light her body had felt. How proud she was, knowing Vien and Orthan had made them just for her.
She paused.
Vien and Orthan…
She remembered the way they looked at her. The fear. The disgust. The way they pushed her away without a word of explanation.
It was too much, too fast. I guess… I'm just a stranger to them.
She tried to shake off the ache by softening her thoughts.
"Rejection's better early. Easier to move on."
"Anyone I lose through honesty wasn't meant to be with me anyway."
"I don't need to wallow for days over one bad moment."
"Today's a new day."
"A clean start."
"I'll live this third life better."
"One step at a time."
"Rejection is just a detour toward something better."
It was a self-boost, one after another. Even if barely held together. She smiled faintly to herself. It wasn't conviction—it was survival. But it was enough to get through the day.
She needed to convince herself. She needed to believe her own words. She needed to hear it.
Tears welled on her eyes, one drop fell and trickled down her face. She reached up to wipe her cheek and noticed a smear of blood by her cuffs.
Huh? Blood? I have blood on my face?
My tears… are blood?
Maybe something's wrong with my tear ducts, she thought.
She remembered what Orthan said about the same thing that happened in the old couple's cabin when she was poisoned by their Gulyas. And for a moment, she remembered Vien telling her to get her eyes checked.
By who?
After bathing, she curled into her book nook and sat at the desk. Paper and pen in hand, she began listing the strange things she'd noticed since arriving in this world. Her handwriting was shaky, but her thoughts were clear.
Peculiarities Since Waking Up Here:
- I cry blood.
- Orthan said I shed a blood tear. He compared it to the Goddess of Azarette, who sheds light instead.
- Just now, I wiped blood streak off my cheek.
Maybe it's not a coincidence?
- I clutched the clothes from Vien and Orthan while crying, but they weren't stained. So maybe… I don't always cry blood?
Does it only happen when I'm dying?
She paused. Was I dying?
The memories from her time bedridden began to surface: soft, dreamlike scenes.
Moments that never happened.
Moments that could have been, if the old couple hadn't rejected her.
"That would have been nice," she whispered. Her voice cracked.
They would've made great parents.
Then—
The bird!
That thing!
She remembered it again.
The same bird with glassy, unblinking eyes. It had haunted her dreams.
Taunted her. Demanded her attention.
Look at me.
She shuddered.
The thing had been right beside her when she woke. It was inside her cabin!
A chill spiked down her spine. The hair on her arms stood on end. She looked around her cabin and scanned it.
Nothing is there with her.
She rewrote and reviewed her list again; this time, saying the pieces aloud.
Peculiarities Since Waking Up Here: (Part 2)
- I woke up as a woman.
- I'm in an adult body—not old, but not young.
- I can read, write, and understand the languages of this world
- I cry blood.
- Reincarnation… might be dangerous.
- Poison is a staple in this world.
- There's a bird. A presence. Dream or not… it might be real.
- Orthan gave me an envelope.
She scanned her books for answers, hoping for something—anything—on the body, the soul, or at least tear ducts. But none of the volumes in her cabin included human anatomy.
The first thing I need to do when I leave Silvershroud… is find a physician.
That thought hit her harder than she expected.
Leaving Silvershroud meant she'd never see the old couple again.
I can't be attached to them. There's no point. They shunned me. I don't want to force myself on people who don't want me around.
It was her way of building resolve. Of pretending she wasn't hurt.
She turned her attention to the envelope from Orthan. Where is it?
She remembered shoving it in her pockets. She scoured her washroom for her pants. Rustled through its pockets until she found it.
She opened the envelope gently and carefully. There's a letter that reads:
"Anima Amara, enclosed is a blank identity card. May it assist in your endeavors."
A blank ID. Orthan's message was clear: Fill it up yourself. We don't know you.
Her perception of Orthan as a kind protector now seemed distant.
Despite how short the message was, it was clear to her that it echoed what Orthan's last words really meant. On top of him burning the pendants she thoughtfully carved.
She realised just how much of a stranger Vien and Orthan were.
What confused her even more was that she's unfamiliar with WHAT Anima Amara is. Or WHO Anima Amara is.
Who's Anima Amara?
Her face tightened and puckered. Confusion was written all over it.
She looks at the small card enclosed within the letter and reads its contents.
Identification Card
~⟡༓𖦹❖𖦹༓⟡~— "Land of Divine Memory - Azarette"—~⟡༓𖦹❖𖦹༓⟡~
First Name:
Last Name:
Place of Origin:
Physical Description:
Title:
Royal Hierarchy:
She stares at the First Name section...
My name?
What's my name?