Prologue

Everything truly started on the day I fell off.

The day I remembered who I used to be, although sometimes it stills feels more like as if I just had a very vivid dream.

The me up until then had been a headstrong seven-year-old girl, the third princess of the small kingdom of Farisme, who longed to travel the world, far and wide, atop her winged mare, Delancelle.

At that time, I loved flying high, over the extensive landscape of fir treetops. I adored how the world looked from above, so tiny that I believed I could grasp it with my hands. The way the wind danced against my face, cold to the touch, threatening to untie my very tight bun on a whim. The smell of the grass and the fog and the dew, all at once.

I remember that, once again, I ventured higher than what someone my age was allowed, even against the wishes of my equestrianism teacher, my indulgent parents, AND my better judgement.

Such a dangerous move, really. I was such a silly child who didn’t know better at the time, captured by the feeling of endless freedom that the sky gave me.

While entranced by what I now consider my own foolishness, I somehow slipped from the saddle and fell down quick, quick, so quick I can hardly recall how it happened.

I heard the frantic screams of my teacher, echoing in my head as it matched the rhythm of my heartbeat. Amidst the blurry of colors that soon became darkness, I landed hard on the nearest fir and hit my head against a branch.

And then… I remembered. As a cluster of images captured and long lost until this very moment. As whirlwinds of fears, laughs and salty tears.

I was this overly anxious, shy girl who had just completed her last year of high school in a prestigious private academy. My family, happy as it was with my excellent academic performance, decided to celebrate my graduation by traveling abroad during our long-awaited vacations. We were going to Europe, to finally see the castles I read so much about.

And then the plane crashed, killing everyone at once… or so I hope. If someone survived that explosion it would be too horrific, something I didn’t want to think about. Not even now.

When I woke up, under my soft scented sheets, I was so scared that I couldn't stop shaking. My mother held me in her arms, warm tears of relief falling from her cheeks.

“You’re awake, you’re awake…” She whispered faintly, almost like a sob.

I didn’t answer, nor did I hold her back as I would, if I only was that naive seven-year-old.

Instead, I cried and cried for what seemed like an eternity, while my new parents tried their best to console me.

Why? Why? Why is it only me?

I was mourning the person I was and those whom I loved before. I was coming to terms with the fact that I died and reincarnated as an amalgam of feelings and thoughts from both a young adult and a little girl. I was panicking, trying not to overthink if I could continue living on as carefree as I did before.

It was too much for a normal person to take, and far more for a tiny, stressed kid.

Disclaimer: English is not my mother tongue, If you find a mistake I'd be happy to edit.