Chapter 1
VIENNE — New Carthage, 11:47 PM
Rain. Gunmetal. Blood.
Those were the last three things I remembered.
I stood on the rooftop of Delgado Tower, the tallest building in our district. But I wasn't there for the view. I was there to die.
Well, technically, to be killed.
"Last job, Vienne," Boss Marco had told me that morning, his smile reaching his ears. "After this, you're free. New identity. New life. All debts, settled."
Liar.
I knew it was too good to be true. But as the underdog of the syndicate — the one who did the dirtiest work for the lowest pay — I was used to false hope. Used to reaching for something I knew I'd never hold.
But I didn't expect the betrayal to be this cheap.
Three snipers. Five in the elevator. And Marco himself, standing at the rooftop door, holding the gun I'd gifted him last Christmas.
The bastard.
"Vienne," he called out, like he was talking to a dog. "Nothing personal. But you're too strong now. Too known. And in this world, underdogs who become threats..."
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
I laughed. Not loud. Not hysterical. The kind of laugh that comes from a woman who's simply tired of living.
"Boss," I said, slowly raising my hand. Not to surrender. To touch the wound at my side — gunshot, third one tonight. "You know what the last thought of an underdog is?"
They all looked confused.
"I wasn't done yet."
I fell. But I wasn't dead yet. I felt the rain on my face. Cold. Free. And then...
Darkness.
———
MEANWHILE IN AN ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE?
IRAIA — The Blood Fields of Aethelgard, Year of the Iron Crown
Fire. Steel. Blood.
Those were the last three things I remembered.
I lay in the mud, in the middle of a thousand corpses. The Voss Legion — my army, my family, everyone I ever loved — gone. Slaughtered by the very people we'd trusted.
Slaughtered by our own kingdom.
"Commander Voss," a voice called through the smoke. I knew that voice. General Thorne. Prince Cassian's uncle. The man who'd eaten at our table during the Sun Festival.
I couldn't lift my head anymore. The arrow in my back — it hadn't come from the enemy. It had come from the retreat signal he'd ordered. Friendly fire, they would call it. An accident.
Liar.
I was used to false hope. Used to believing in a crown that never chose me.
But I didn't expect the betrayal to be this cowardly.
I laughed. The laugh of a woman tired of fighting for a kingdom that never fought for her.
"General," I whispered, blood spilling from my lips. "You know what the last thought of a lady warrior is?"
He was silent. Trembling. He couldn't meet my eyes.
"I wasn't done yet."
My world fell. But I wasn't dead yet. I felt the rain on my face. Cold. Free. And then...
Darkness.
?
———
One breath. Two souls. One moment that lasted forever.
VIENNE's (Now in IRAIA's body) POV
I don't know how many hours, days, or years passed in that void. But I heard a voice. Not male, not female — something older, something like wind that had learned to care.
"Two of you endured. Two of you were abandoned. Two of you are unfinished."
I tried to scream. Tried to say I wasn't ready. But I had no mouth. No body.
"One world is full of steel and treachery. The other is full of crowns and lies. Both of you are dead. Both of you have something heaven wants."
Then I saw a light. But not one light — two. One neon green, like a New Carthage signboard. One gold-white, like an Aether blade in Aethelgard.
"Choose."
Choose? How could I choose when I had no hands?
But before I could think, I felt a pull. Not from the light. From the other soul.
Her. The woman on the battlefield. I felt her rage. Her failure. Her final wish — that just once, someone would stand for her.
And me? I had a wish too. That just once, I'd have a place to return to that wasn't made of guns and blood.
We didn't speak. But we understood each other.
And in a blink...
I felt pain. Real pain. The kind that comes with a body, with blood flowing, with a heart beating.
But it was wrong.
This wasn't my body.
This land was wrong. This air was wrong. This armor I wore — it wasn't my leather jacket and tactical pants. It was... armor?
My eyes opened.
And I saw the sky of Aethelgard. A sky I didn't know.
But that wasn't all.
I felt a flood of memories that weren't mine. A life I hadn't lived. A love I hadn't felt. A betrayal that...
I was the victim of.
Iraia Voss.
I sat up in the mud, gasping, while the blood of a thousand soldiers pooled around me. The wound in my back — an arrow — felt freshly stitched. I had hands I didn't recognize. A face I hadn't seen in a mirror.
But I knew everything about her.
I knew who killed her.
And I knew who I was.
Vienne Delgado. The underdog. The ghost. The woman who never missed.
But now?
Now, I was Iraia Voss. The last lady warrior. The dead woman walking.
And as I sat in the middle of a dead army, in a world I didn't understand, in a body that wasn't mine...
I laughed.
Not because I was losing my mind.
I laughed because for the first time in a very long time, I felt something I thought I'd lost.
Hope.
Or more accurately — revenge.
I stood. The wound burned. The armor weighed heavy. But I stood.
And for the first time, I spoke with this mouth — a mouth that wasn't mine, but was mine now.
"I'm not done yet," I told the wind. The dead. The sky.
And to the two worlds that had died to make room for me.
"We're not done yet."