Favored by God

The first thing I noticed was the screaming.

My vision swam, blurred edges slowly coming into focus as a rough hand seized my hair, yanking me into the air. The man's words were initially incomprehensible—a torrent of sounds that should have meant nothing. And yet, somehow, I understood every venomous syllable.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he roared. "You're scaring off my customers, passing out in front of my shop!"

His breath was hot with anger, his grip painful. With a violent motion, he hurled me onto the cold, wet cobblestones. "Get out of here, you little rat! Stop looking at me with those disgusting eyes!"

Fear and confusion battled inside me. This world—this new reality—was already proving to be as harsh as the one I'd left behind. But survival had always been my strongest skill.

Move, my mind screamed. Now.

I scrambled to my feet, choosing survival over confrontation. The street around me was a maze of unfamiliar sights and sounds—people in strange clothing, buildings that looked like they'd been lifted from a medieval painting, creatures that seemed to blur the line between human and something else entirely.

My first attempts to understand my situation were met with nothing but contempt. A passerby shoved me aside when I asked for information. The local tavern—a rough-looking establishment with patrons that seemed more beast than man—threw me out before I could even speak.

As darkness fell, hunger became my only companion.

My new body was weak, malnourished. Each step became a battle against exhaustion. The hunger was unlike anything I'd experienced—a deep, consuming pain that seemed to eat away at my very core. Colors began to blur, the world spinning in a dizzying dance of shadows and light.

Then, darkness.

When I awoke, everything had changed again.

I found myself lying in a bed looking at a wooden ceiling An older woman stood before me, her eyes kind but tired—the look of someone who had seen too much but refused to become hardened by it. A bowl of steaming food sat nearby, its simple aroma more welcoming than anything I'd known in years.

"Eat," she said simply. Not a suggestion, but a gentle command.

And I did. Each bite was a revelation—even the simplest food tasted like a feast to my starved body. I devoured the meal, my previous life's traumas momentarily forgotten in the pure joy of sustenance.

"You're at the local orphanage, My name is Ms.Clemintine" she explained after I'd finished. Two children had found me, passed out in the street, and brought me here. Her voice was soft, but there was steel beneath the kindness.

The world solidified around me. Rublesville. The Kingdom of Irdath. Words that meant nothing and everything.

I made a calculated decision. Survival required information, and information required trust. A convenient memory loss would be my shield, my way of learning without raising suspicion.

"I can't remember anything before yesterday," I lied, making my voice small, vulnerable.

Her instincts as the mother of the orphanage kicked in immediately. She promised to help me, to teach me about this world, to care for me. Emotions I'd long forgotten—safety, kindness, hope—began to stir within me. She Insisted i rest a little longer then take a bath, get changed and come down stairs to meet the rest of the children.

As I bathed and changed, my mind raced. Reincarnation. A new world. A second chance.

I was no longer a victim. I was a survivor.

And this time, I'd do everything differently.