Page 4 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
Sora reached for the soup to avoid meeting her supposed sister’s gaze. “Near-drowning does strange things to the mind.” The explanation came from nowhere, yet felt right—recalling similar cases she’d read about in her history books. “I’m still lost…” She gingerly pointed to her forehead and then waved her hand aimlessly in the air, as if trying to conjure all the answers to the questions she was missing. “And still sorting through things.”
“Well, figure it out quickly. Father expects you in the kitchens at dawn.” Morgana’s tone softened slightly. “I’ve covered your shifts for three days, but I can’t manage both our work forever.”
“Three days!?” Sora nearly dropped the spoon. “I’ve been unconscious for three days?”
“They found you half-frozen on the lake ice. No one knows how you got there or what you were doing out in that storm.” Morgana’s expression shifted to something unreadable. “Father was beside himself. Mother hardly slept.”
Guilt washed over Sora, though she had no memory of causing this family distress. “I’m sorry.”
“Just recover your strength.” Morgana moved toward the door then paused. “And Sora? Whatever fascination drew you to the lake—let it go. The castle has enough rumors going around. I would rather not put any more focus on our family.”
After Morgana left, Sora forced herself to finish the broth, her historian’s mind automatically cataloging every detail of her surroundings as she tried to piece together exactly where she was—and how she’d gotten here.
Medieval architecture, likely 14th or 15th century by Earth standards. Primitive, yet the room was clean and meticulously kept. Though it lacked modern conveniences like electricity, certain details stood out—glowing stones encased in glass spheres, their appearance coal-like, but emitting an otherworldly white light laced with a faint rainbow sheen. Undeniably unnatural.
The small window facing north provided a clear view of Earth in the night sky—impossible, yet undeniable.
She was on another world—and perhaps another realm?
Somehow, at the moment of her death, she had been transported to this place—Artania, supplied that same inner voice—and into the body of a kitchen maid who shared her face.
She placed the spoon in the empty bowl and pushed the dish away, sighing.
Logically, this should be some weird dream, perhaps brought on by her unhealthy habits she’d had for far too long. But the deep, unshakable sensation in the pit of her stomach—and her instincts paired with the odd voice in the back of her head—told her that this was very much real.
Somehow, this world was her new reality… but how? And why?
* * *
Dawn arrived with another knock, this one more insistent. Sora opened her eyes to find Miranda setting out a simple dress of rough-spun wool, a clean apron, and sturdy shoes beside the bed.
“Up with you now.” Miranda’s tone brooked no argument. “Your father needs help with the morning bread, and there’s pastry dough waiting to be molded.”
Sora dressed quickly, her body moving with muscle memory her conscious mind didn’t share. When she reached to tie back her hair, she noticed something strange—a faint shimmer across her skin in the early morning light. She examined her arms, turning them in the weak sunbeams streaming through the window, but the phenomenon vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
How odd…
Was it a figment of her imagination? Another oddity from her other self’s memory, a glimpse from a distant memory perhaps?
She shook her head, mentally filing the strange phenomenon aside for later, and continued down the hall of the servants’ quarters.
Now isn’t the time to act any more suspicious than I know I already am.
The castle kitchens sprawled beneath the main halls, a warren of stone rooms filled with roaring ovens, preparation tables, and harried servants. Heat blasted Sora’s face as Miranda led her through the main doors into controlled chaos.
Garth—a barrel-chested man with kind eyes and flour dusting his salt-and-pepper beard—looked up from a colossal wooden table where he kneaded dough with practiced efficiency. “There’s my girl.” Relief flooded his features. “Back from the dead, are we?”
“Nearly,” Sora managed, the word catching in her throat, unable to process how he was the split perfect image of her father back on Earth… who was an accountant… and definitelywasn’tthe man in front of her.
“Just don’t do it again, okay? You nearly made me lose all my hair with worry.” He embraced her quickly, then guided her to a station beside him. “Let’s start you out slow. Nothing clears the mind like honest work. Simple rolls today—think you can manage?”
Before she could answer, a servant boy rushed in, eyes wide. “Master Baker! The queen requests your presence—something about the menu for tonight’s feast.”
Garth sighed and wiped his forehead. “Duty calls. Morgana, watch your sister. She’s still weak.”
As he departed, Morgana appeared at Sora’s side, dropping a ball of dough before her. “Simple rolls,” she repeated, eyes narrowing. “Even you can’t ruin those.”
Sora stared at the dough, panic rising in her chest. She’d never baked anything more complicated than store-bought cookie dough in her entire life. And so, it wasn’t like she had an oven in her studio apartment to experiment with.
