𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜

Silence.

There was dead silence all around me. The kind of silence that doesn’t soothe—but suffocates. The kind that makes your heart plummet into your stomach, your breath hitch in your throat, your instincts scream that something is terribly wrong.

My eyes fluttered open, only to be scorched by an explosion of blinding brightness. White-hot pain seared through my vision, and I immediately clenched them shut, a soft whimper escaping me. The sound barely made it past my lips, fragile and helpless, like a broken bird’s cry.

I tried to move.

God, I tried.

But the moment I even thought about shifting, agony erupted in my muscles—sharp, electric pain that shot down every limb, igniting my nerves like fire licking across brittle paper. I cried out. A raw, desperate scream tore from my throat, loud enough to echo in my own skull.

And then, as suddenly as it had descended, the silence shattered.

Voices.

Not comforting, not gentle—but loud, jarring, overlapping like clashing cymbals in a chaotic orchestra. I couldn’t make sense of them. They were everywhere and nowhere, sharp and urgent. My ears rang, my head pounded with each word that sliced through the air.

My lips trembled.

Was I dead?

Had someone saved me?

Was this... a hospital?

No sterile beeping. No antiseptic smell. Just pain. A throbbing, unfamiliar ache in my bones, like I’d been broken apart and glued back together with spite instead of care.

Then I heard her.

"What is the gender?" a woman’s voice cried out, her words cracked and strained with something like desperation—fear, maybe, or disbelief.

"A girl, my lady," came a reply, soft and aged, but clear. A calm amidst the storm.

My body jerked instinctively, trying to squirm, to fight the invisible weight that held me down. But something was wrong. Terribly wrong. My limbs didn’t respond like they used to—they felt too small, too frail, bound by invisible chains.

A wave of warmth enveloped me—water. I was being bathed. Hands, gentle but foreign, moved over my skin. Then came the soft whisper of silk being wrapped around my body.

Confusion roared in my chest.

What the actual hell is going on?!

I blinked open my eyes again, forcing them to stay open this time. But everything was blurred, washed over with a hazy veil that made shapes twist and colors bleed together. Nothing made sense. I couldn't focus. I couldn’t see.

Am I blind?

No. Not blind. Just... something else. Something was wrong.

Then his voice cut through it all.

"A disgrace born from filth. Just as expected."

Each syllable was drenched in venom. Deep. Cold. Male.

I flinched, instinctively. That voice—it wasn’t just cruel, it was condemning.

"At least it’s yours," a woman’s voice bit back, sharp and unforgiving like shards of broken glass.

Tears welled in my eyes before I even understood why. My heart clenched with something ancient and primal—shame. Hurt. Vulnerability.

"What are you going to name the girl, my lord?" came another voice, chirpy and oblivious to the tension—a woman again, older.

The man snorted in disgust. "Just name her anything. I have better things to do."

The rejection in his voice pierced deeper than a dagger. I felt... discarded. Like an object someone regretted unwrapping.

And then—another voice.

Silken. Amused. Almost wicked in its calm.

"Well, I want to name her… Aurelia. Aurelia Cos Fersyne."

The moment the name was spoken, something inside me shifted. Like a lock turning in an ancient door. My skin prickled. My heart stuttered.

Aurelia.

Why did that name feel like it belonged to me—and yet not? Why did it echo in my soul like a curse long forgotten?

But before I could catch the meaning, everything around me went black again.

And the last thing I tasted was something thick and vile, forced between my lips. It burned down my throat like oil, choking me in its bitter warmth.

---

A voice.

Faint at first, then clearer. Urgent. Calling me back.

"Sophie!"

My name.

I stirred, groaning softly. This time, when I opened my eyes, the world was no longer blurry—but it wasn’t familiar either.

White.

Everything was white. Walls, floor, ceiling. I lay at the center of a blank, colorless void that stretched beyond the edges of reason.

Was this purgatory?

" Thought you were never going to wake up," a voice teased, startling me from behind.

I twisted around with a yelp, my body moving more easily now—but my heart nearly burst from my chest.

A man stood there.

Tall. Towering. Sharp-jawed and broad-shouldered, with pitch-black hair and a presence that sucked the air from the room. His eyes shimmered with mischief. He looked like something out of mythology.

He smirked. “Because I am, darling.”

I blinked. What?

Did he just… read my thoughts?

“Certainly. I can,” he answered smoothly.

My jaw dropped. “Who—what—are you wearing robes?”

What century was this?

" I’m Orien. Guardian of Earth,” he said simply, as if that explained anything.

Before I could even process that, another voice joined us—this one darker, smoother. Like velvet dipped in sin.

"And I’m Althaerion. Creature of the book world—Velmoria."

He materialized beside us, like a shadow coming to life. And he was… breathtaking. Sharp features, but haunting. The kind of man who could ruin your soul with a smile.

I screamed and fell back, landing with a graceless thud. My legs trembled. Gravity here was—off. Everything felt wrong.

"You scared her," Orien sighed, clearly annoyed.

“Not my fault she’s jumpy,” Althaerion shrugged, entirely unbothered.

I stared at him. Gawked, really. He was magnetic—dangerous in a way that didn’t warn you until it was too late.

“She’s staring,” he smirked.

I snapped out of it, cheeks burning. “W-What is happening? Who are you people? Am I—what is this place?!”

“You’re no longer on Earth, Sophie,” Orien said gently, his voice unexpectedly kind.

I froze.

No longer… on Earth?

"What… do you mean?" I whispered, my voice cracking.

"You’re dead,” Althaerion said bluntly, flashing a grin that made my blood run cold.

Dead.

The word echoed inside me. I shook my head. No. I was alive. I could feel everything.

But then—memories returned.

The fire. The burning book. The golden mist swallowing me whole.

“You’re not that dumb,” Althaerion said, smug.

“Sophie, your body died in that fire,” Orien said, quieter now. “But your soul… your soul passed through the portal. You crossed over.”

My breath hitched.

Gone. My apartment. My body. Ashes. Flames. Everything I knew.

"Tragic," Althaerion said, mockingly.

Suddenly the name click in my mind. The book- The Slave Of Destiny. It burn that day and now I am in... The book. As a character.

As a Aurelia

Fury bloomed inside me. "I read that book. Aurelia was a side villainess. She wasn’t even the main character. She was killed—brutally. Why would you bring me back as her?"

Althaerion shrugged. Orien remained impassive.

My heart pounded in my ears. I wanted to scream. To cry. To demand justice.

Instead, the world blurred again.

And I woke up.

---

Aurelia Cos Fersyne.

A cursed name.

The most hated, unwanted character in the entire story.

The original author gave her four measly chapters. Four. Then tossed her into the fires of fate like a broken toy.

Raised by a cold, vindictive mother. Warped into someone conniving and vain. She clawed for affection, twisted herself into shadows to survive—but in the end, she was despised.

By her noble father, whose pride couldn’t accept her blood.

By the kingdom, which viewed her as poison.

By the story itself.

She dared to chase the crown prince—dreamed of becoming queen. But her dreams were thorns, her methods poison.

Her end?

Execution. Public. Brutal.

Stoned. Dragged through the forest by horses. Torn flesh. Crushed bones. A body discarded to wild beasts.

And now…

That was my fate.

Unless I changed it.

Somehow… I would.

I had to.

---

To Be Continued.

You can read this story in wattpad too. My account name is Arora_Smith07