A New Soul

Chapter One

Maya's death

Maya's POV

"Please, Ethan," I implore, my voice barely above a croak. "Why?"

His eyes are cold. He was colder than I've ever seen him, and what he said stung more than any cut.

"You were never meant to be alive, Maya." His voice is firm, as if he doesn't care. "You were a risk."

I can see the betrayal on his face, and it hurts me so much. He is the one who killed me, the man I loved and trusted.

I can hear Amelia's giggle and see her standing directly behind him with a big smile on her face. I want to scream, but the blood that is collecting in my throat makes it hard to do so. I feel betrayed all the way through.

My heart is heavy and sinking as my sight disappears.

I can still hear what Ethan said in my fading consciousness. "You were never meant to be alive, Maya."

I can feel my heart slowing down, and each beat is getting farther away.

And then... nothing.

I don't feel anything in my body. I can't see either. It's only dark. But I can hear and feel it: the cold air rushing in and the feeling of weightlessness, like I'm hovering between realms. There is no pain here. No one can trick me.

I need to talk and ask. If I don't do this, I'll never get the justice I need. Nothing saddens me more than the betrayal of the individuals I loved.

"Moon Goddess..." My words are barely a whisper, and they shake. "Please, let me try again." I want to get back at the ones who killed me. "I want them to pay for what they did."

I can't hear anything because the calm around me is so loud. But then... a burst of light appears. It isn't too strong, yet it is strong enough to make my heart race.

A voice, a calm, soothing presence, fills the room.

"Child, your plea has been heard." The voice is far away but close, and it's quiet but strong. "You might get another chance at life, but it will cost you."

The cost doesn't matter to me. I just want everything to be right.

"Get it." Please. My voice breaks, and my sadness comes out.

The light gets brighter, and everything around me alters a little. But something is dragging me, like a chain that won't let me go.

"Your body won't be yours anymore." You need to find a partner who will mark you, or you'll lose your soul.

I can barely make out what you're saying. A buddy? It doesn't matter to me. I just need to get them to pay.

And all of a sudden I feel the pull. The cold and the dark. The light is starting to fade.

I float in a space that never ends. There are no floors, walls, or stars. Nothing except emptiness. I feel like I'm stuck in a place I don't belong, between life and death.

The silence feels thick and heavy, like a weight on my chest. I don't have anything else to hear but the sound of my heart thumping in my chest. Nobody. Just this knowing of who I am.

"Kid."

The voice comes back, but this time it's quieter. I turn to look, but I can't see. It's both everywhere and nowhere at once.

"You've asked for another chance, but you don't know how much it will cost."

When I open my mouth, nothing comes out. I want to scream and ask what this cost is, but I can't. I feel little.

"Your new life won't belong to you. You will get someone else's body, face, and memories. But you won't have their love.

The voice gets louder and the sentences get sharper, and I see how real it all is. I can't do anything. Not even over my own life.

"You need to find a man who will mark you, or your soul will never be free." Do you agree?

I try to answer, but I can't. Her words are heavy on my mind. Find a partner. A man who will write on me. I don't even know what that means, but I have to do it.

"Yes," I say, and the word rushes out before I can stop it.

"That's it, then." The voice gets quieter as the darkness swirls around me. "You need to move quickly. You don't have a lot of time.

And with that, I feel the pull again. This time, it's stronger and pulling me forward. But this time, the weight of the world isn't the only thing that drives me down. The weight of a life that isn't mine anymore. The new body that is waiting for me. Freya's body. And whatever future I can construct for myself with this new life that is being forced on me.

I closed my eyes. Then nothing occurred.

I wake up with a sharp breath, like I've been underwater and need air. I wake up with my eyes wide open, yet something is wrong. The sheets are too fragile, and the bed is too comfortable. It smells like lavender and flowers, which is unusual. The smell is strange yet also.

I blink a few times to try to clear my head, but it hurts like I've been hit in the head with a thousand memories I can't remember. I sit up and attempt to remember where I am. There is a room all around me that is bigger than any I've ever been in. Heavy velvet curtains, a magnificent canopy bed, and silver candlesticks that catch the light. But none of it is mine.

I touch my skin to attempt to feel... me. But the hands that move through the sheets aren't mine. I can feel the softness of flesh that isn't mine, the curves that aren't mine, and a deep feeling that something is wrong.

What happened? Why do I feel like I'm not me?

I get up by lifting my legs off the bed. My feet hit the cold stone floor. The world tilts for a second. I grab on to the edge of the vanity with my hands, and that's when I see her. My picture.

Freya's face.

I stop.

Her golden skin, lips, and eyes stare back at me, and the world tilts again. I put my palm on the mirror, as if I could force this person away. But she stays.

This face. This body. It doesn't belong to me.

Panic is tearing me apart. What's wrong with me?

I blink a lot and then look again. I try to settle down my breathing, but I can't. This isn't just a daydream. This isn't just a dream. This is true.

Freya. Freya, the queen.

My heart races as I fall back. The truth is painful. Maya is my real name. No, Freya. I don't know who this woman is, but I'm not her.

I try to get the lump in my throat to go away.

What am I now?

I'm in a distant land that isn't mine, looking at a life that isn't mine either. I could never have imagined that everything in Freya's life would be bigger, grander, and more opulent than it is. This isn't just a luxury; it's a source of power. A place of authority. A kingdom.

As I stroll about the room, touching everything and trying to figure out what has happened to me, I spot a picture on the wall. I know the lady in the picture. It's her. Freya. Freya the Queen.

She smiles back at me with ease and grace. I can feel her life and legacy in the stillness of the room. I take a deep breath.

This life. This family of kings and queens. She has this power. But now it's mine. I'm in her place. Put on her shoes. It scares me a lot.

I stroll over to the wardrobe and touch the colorful and royal silks and velvets. I pick up the clothes and touch the heavy gold jewelry. It feels heavy in my hands and in my chest.

There is a knock at the door. I stop. My heart is racing in my chest.

A voice comes through the door in a calm and friendly tone. "The King wants to see you, Your Majesty."

I blink and try to figure out what the words mean. The King. That must mean

Ryker.

I don't know what to think. I remember how warm he was and what his face looked like, but not in a way that should seem familiar. I guess he was always sweet to Freya. But do I truly feel that way? What will I feel now that I'm here?

He is standing there when the door opens. Ryker.

He is taller than I recall, has broad shoulders, and is wearing the royal armor of Wolfsburg. His eyes are deep and his features are sharp, but something about the way he looks makes him appear far away.

He moves closer and whispers, "Freya," quietly. He doesn't reach for me or pull me into an embrace like I thought he would. He stares at me carefully from a distance instead.

When he says, "I've been waiting for you," his voice is low. "You've changed since yesterday."

When I swallow, my mouth quickly dries up. "I... I've been sick," I admit, and the words come out before I can stop them.

His lips twitch as if he's going to smile, yet his eyes indicate sadness. "I understand." I have seen. He approaches closer and slowly reaches out his hand. But his touch is cold, not warm like I expected it would be.

His fingers touch my cheek in a soft, almost caring way, and then... his eyes. They flash because they're confused.

"What's wrong, Freya?" he asks, his voice full of fear. "You've changed since the last time I saw you."

I can't get enough air. The words are like a sharp edge between us. I want to yell, "I'm not Freya!" But I can't do anything; I just stand there.