The Princess Who Died and Woke Up in Another Empire

She opened her eyes with a sudden jolt, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Darkness surrounded her, but it was the unfamiliar weight of confusion that settled over her like a heavy fog.

Blinking rapidly to clear her vision, Arabella realized she wasn't exactly where she should be. The room was simple, almost rustic—plain wooden walls, a narrow window letting in weak daylight, and two strangers staring down at her with wide, anxious eyes.

Impossible.

I was just—

Her mind raced, but she couldn't grasp what had happened.

"Who are you?!" she demanded. "How dare you kidnap a royal princess?!"

The couple gasped, exchanging panicked glances.

"Heavens," the woman whispered. "She hit her head too hard—"

"Helena, dear… we're your parents," the woman added softly, clutching the man beside her for support.

Blasphemy.

Arabella's breath caught. Frozen by disbelief and rage, she couldn't lower her guard.

"How dare you!" she screamed again, her voice shaking the room. The woman's tears fell heavier.

I'm the one who should be crying.

Swallowing back her anger, Arabella tried to steady herself.

Everything was wrong.

She didn't know these people.

She didn't know this place.

But she was certain of one thing: this was not her home.

"What do you want from me?" Arabella demanded, voice trembling but sharp. "How did you get past palace security? Who sent you here?"

The couple exchanged nervous, confused glances. The man muttered, "The hit was real hard…"

"It's rude to whisper, dear," the woman said, whispering.

Arabella's eyes narrowed.

"Why don't we just have a civilized conversation... as a family?" the woman offered, forcing a hopeful smile.

They're insane.

"Please," Arabella begged, desperation seeping through her tone. "This is a huge mistake. I'm not Helena. I don't know who she is. I have a family, responsibilities. You don't want to do this—I know you're good people…"

"What is she talking about?" the woman asked the man quietly.

He just shook his head, equally lost.

"Please, just let me go," Arabella pleaded. "I won't hold you responsible, I promise."

The two nodded sadly, their sympathy clear.

"No one is keeping you here, Helena," the woman said gently. "We know you need to return to the palace."

Arabella froze. The word rang like a bell—palace.

Wait.

The coronation…

Suddenly, her mind was flooded with fragmented memories—falling, the pain. A sharp ache exploded in her head and she clutched it, breath hitching.

No.

She refused to accept.

She wasn't dead.

She was alive.

She just needed to escape and return to Gardenia.

That was all.

Before she could gather herself, sudden, heavy knocking shattered the fragile silence.

Metal.

She recognized the sound instantly—armored fists pounding the door.

Soldiers. They came for me.

Heart pounding faster, Arabella stumbled to the door and flung it open. A gust of wind slapped her face, bringing with it the harsh brightness of the outside world.

Her eyes widened at the sight of unfamiliar uniforms. Blue and black with a shining dragon crest emblazoned in the armors center.

Not Gardenia.

Solem.

A cold chill ran down her spine.

"High Priestess Helena of House Fay…" what seemed to be the lead soldier announced with authority.

Arabella's breath caught.

"…You are to be escorted back to the palace immediately, under imperial order, to treat the Second Prince. Disobedience will be considered treason, punishable by death."

Pain flared again inside her skull — this time not fear, fragmented memories.

Pieces of information that she shouldn't have

"High Priestess Helena Fay of the Solem Empire. The most powerful priestess in recorded history. In 897, grief-stricken by the Emperor's death, cast a divine seal to summon the powers of the Goddess of Time and Space, destroying everything around her… including herself."

Including Gardenia.

Year 897. Ten years in the future.

Arabella collapsed to her knees. Shaking.

She didn't know how.

She didn't know why.

But they were calling her Helena Fay.

And now, that name belonged to her.

"I... I accept the decree," she whispered.

Then louder.

"I, Helena Fay, thank His Imperial Majesty for his mercy."

She lowered her head, voice calm.

But her mind screamed.