“—MOVE!”

The scream tore out of my throat before I even thought it.

The kid in the crosswalk turned his head toward me, eyes wide, backpack hanging off one shoulder. He didn’t see the car. All he saw was a crazy woman in a hoodie and gym shorts sprinting at him.

Headlights roared around the corner, too fast, too close.

My body reacted the way it always had in the ring—no hesitation, no fear.

I threw myself forward, fingers catching on cheap nylon straps, yanking the boy toward me. He stumbled, feet slipping on wet asphalt.

The horn blared.

Tires screamed.

For a heartbeat the whole world was white.

「SAVE HIM!」

The thought wasn’t even words. It was instinct. Fierce. Absolute.

Impact hit me like an avalanche from the side. My knees buckled backward, air punched out of my lungs, and then—

Nothing.

No pain.

No sound.

Just falling, weightless, into an endless, silent golden haze.

Warmth.

My first sensation was warmth, like sun-drenched mats after a long training day.

Then I heard a voice.

“…Your Highness? Your Highness, please—”

My eyes snapped open.

A ceiling loomed above me—vaulted, carved, and painted with curling designs in gold leaf. Not the cracked plaster of my apartment. Not hospital white.

I sucked in a breath that tasted of flowers and incense.

Where…?

I pushed myself upright. Silken sheets slid off my shoulders like water. The bed under me was ridiculous—big enough to fit a whole MMA team, frame carved into swirling phoenix feathers. Beyond it, tall windows spilled morning light through stained glass. A fiery bird spread its wings across one pane, molten gold and crimson.

Definitely not the hospital.

“Your Highness!”

The voice came from my right.

I turned and found a girl standing there in a black dress and white apron, clutching a tray so hard it rattled. A delicate glass of water and a bowl of jewel-bright fruit trembled on it.

She looked maybe my age. Wide hazel eyes, brown hair pinned neatly back. Terrified.

Terrified of me.

“Y-Your Highness,” she stammered, stepping closer. “Y-you’re awake. Thank the spirits. The ceremony— we only have minutes—”

I stared at her. My throat refused to work.

Ceremony?

Spirits?

And why did she keep calling me—

…Your Highness?

The sheets slid lower, revealing unfamiliar bare shoulders, pale and smooth where my skin should’ve been scarred. No old fracture lines. No faint white reminders of stitches. I’d earned those.

They were gone.

A tickle of dread crawled up my spine.

I threw my legs over the side of the bed. The room tilted, my balance off like I’d cut weight too fast. My feet found a thick red carpet instead of cold concrete.

A mirror stood on the far wall, framed in gilded vines.

I moved toward it on shaking legs.

The girl in the glass was a stranger.

Red hair—my same vivid, stubborn shade—but long and glossy, falling in perfect waves to her waist instead of the chopped, sweat-stuck mess I’d always worn. Her eyes were golden, bright and sharp like molten metal. A delicate face, soft jaw, nose straight and small. No crooked bridge from that time I hadn’t dodged fast enough. No faint scar on my eyebrow.

Her skin was porcelain. Her shoulders bare except for thin straps of white and gold fabric. A pendant glinted at her throat: a phoenix in mid-flight, wings arched around a tiny amber gem.

My hand rose.

The girl’s hand rose.

We touched the glass at the same time.

“That’s…” My voice came out hoarse. “That’s not me.”

I remembered the screech of tires. The boy’s terrified face.

The way the car had been too close to dodge.

“I died,” I whispered. My fingers curled into a fist against the mirror. “I definitely died.”

Behind me, the maid made a choked sound.

“Princess Seraphina?”

The name cracked through the room like a whip. For a moment, my brain rejected it completely.

Rina Cross.

Cage fighter. Gym rat. Underground champion.

Not…

Princess.

I turned slowly. “What did you call me?”

The tray clattered as the maid dropped to her knees, head bowed so low her forehead almost hit the floor.

“P-Princess Seraphina Aurelle,” she stammered. “Daughter of His Majesty King Edric, heir of the Phoenix line, bride to be of His Majesty King Kael Draven of Thal’Ryn. I—I’m your handmaid, Lyria. Please forgive my rudeness, Your Highness, but if you do not appear at the altar, the peace talks—”

Her words blurred into a rush of syllables. Only a few stuck.

Bride.

Peace.

King.

And behind it all, a different word sank like a stone in my chest.

War.

I swallowed.

There were a lot of questions I should have asked in that moment. What kingdom? What year? What the hell is Thal’Ryn? Am I dreaming? Did I hit my head too hard?

Instead, I heard myself say, in a voice I barely recognized, “Get me ready, Lyria.”

Her head snapped up in shock.

Then, to my horror, her eyes flooded with tears of relief.

“Yes, Your Highness!”

Twenty frantic minutes later, I stood at the open doors of a cathedral too big to be real.

The world beyond the threshold glowed gold.

Sun poured through stained-glass windows into a vaulted hall full of people. On the left, rows of humans in red and gold; on the right, figures in navy and black, some with fur, some with claws, some not entirely human at all.

Beastmen.

My pulse pounded in my ears.

Silk rustled as I shifted. Lyria had worked a miracle. The phoenix gown hugged my new body like it had been molded there, layers of red and gold fanning out behind me in flame-shaped panels. The bodice shimmered with thread the color of sunlight. The pendant at my throat felt heavy, like it knew something I didn’t.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Lyria whispered at my shoulder, voice barely audible over the faint hum of the crowd. “You look a little pale…”

I almost laughed. A little?

“I’ve had worse Mondays,” I muttered.

She blinked at the unfamiliar word, but there was no time to explain. The music swelled—strings and low drums—and the doors began to open fully.

All at once every head in the cathedral turned toward me.

My throat closed.

In the far distance, at the top of a short flight of steps, beneath the largest stained-glass window of them all, stood a man.

Even from here, I could see he was tall. Broad shoulders encased in dark navy armor edged in gold. A fur-lined cape fell from his shoulders in a controlled waterfall of white. Long golden hair framed a face carved in clean, sharp lines. His eyes were red, not the ugly bloodshot kind but deep, rich crimson, catching the light like garnets.

The Beast King.

King Kael Draven.

My husband-to-be.

He looked like he’d rather be preparing for battle.

Honestly, same.

“Deep breath,” I told myself under my breath. “Walk straight. Don’t pass out.”

My feet moved.

Each step echoed up to the vaulted arches. Between the human nobles in their embroidered coats and the beastmen in formal armor, whispers slithered.

“Is that really her?”

“She’s smaller than I expected.”

“…pretty, for a human.”

“I heard she fainted yesterday. They say the Phoenix line is fading.”

Heat prickled under my skin.

Rina Cross never cared what the crowd thought. You get in the ring, you fight. Noise is just noise.

I straightened my spine and let that girl from my old world breathe through this princess’s lungs.

If I was stuck in this body, I’d at least stand up straight in it.

I reached the foot of the stairs.

King Kael didn’t offer a smile. Not even a fake one.

Up close, he was worse. Or better, depending on how you defined terrifyingly handsome.

His presence was like gravity. Heavy. Unmoving.

The priest stepped between us, clutching a thick golden tome to his chest, embroidery glinting on his robes.

“By the will of the Phoenix of Light and the Lion of Valor,” he intoned, voice ringing off stone, “two bloodlines become one.”

My stomach tied itself in a knot.

Lion.

So that’s his spirit.

My fingers brushed the phoenix pendant at my throat.

Two bloodlines. Mine wasn’t even from this world.

I should say something, I thought wildly. Call the whole thing off. Demand answers. Ask about the kid.

But then I imagined this hall full of strangers, the suspicious eyes of the beastmen, the nobles from my supposed kingdom waiting to see if their princess would do her duty.

Backing out wasn’t an option. Not yet.

The priest turned to me. “Princess Seraphina Aurelle of Solaria. Do you accept this bond and swear to uphold the peace between your people and the king of Thal’Ryn?”

The crowd went utterly silent.

I could feel every gaze like a weight on my shoulders.

Rina Cross would have sworn into a fight without thinking, if someone was counting on her.

The kid in the crosswalk flashed before my eyes.

I lifted my chin.

“I do,” I said.

My voice didn’t shake.

The priest turned to Kael. “King Kael Draven of Thal’Ryn, do you—”

“I do.” He didn’t hesitate.

Cool, I thought, mildly offended. Don’t sound too enthusiastic.

The priest nodded, satisfied, then opened the tome. “By tradition and divine law, seal this vow with the joining of hands and magic.”

My stomach dropped.

I hadn’t known magic was part of the deal.

Kael extended his right hand.

Up close, I could see faint lines of gold along his wrist and knuckles, like scars that glowed. His palm was steady.

Mine wasn’t.

I swallowed, wiped my hand discreetly on the folds of my skirt, then placed it in his.

The moment our skin touched, the power exploded.

Light—gold and scarlet—roared up from where our hands met, coiling around our wrists in twin streams. Heat surged up my arm, through my chest, into the pendant, which blazed bright enough to hurt my eyes.

Gasps. Shouts.

“Too strong!”

“Is it a curse?!”

“The spirits are angry—”

I couldn’t hear them properly over the rushing in my ears.

Fire should have burned. I knew what third-degree felt like.

This didn’t. It wasn’t pain. It was… recognition. Like some sleeping part of me woke up and lunged toward the lion-shaped aura pouring from Kael, claws out, delighted.

My vision blurred at the edges. I heard myself suck in a breath.

My eyes stung.

When I blinked, the world had shifted.

The cathedral, the windows, the crowd—they all seemed sharper, like someone had adjusted the contrast. Every flicker of candlelight painted trails in the air. Every breath from the crowd felt like a faint wind brushing my skin.

Kael’s crimson gaze was inches from mine.

And in that storm of fire and magic, he looked…

Intrigued.

The light flared once more—and then cut out, leaving only the echo of it tingling in my fingers.

I swayed.

Kael’s grip tightened just enough to steady me.

The priest was staring at us like he’d just witnessed a miracle or a disaster and wasn’t sure which.

Somewhere in the crowd, a child started crying.

I dragged air into my lungs.

I died… saving that kid… so why—

Why was I here?

Why did the fire in this stranger’s body feel like mine?

Why did the Beast King look at me like a puzzle he was suddenly very interested in solving?

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