L.A., California 20XX

  “Another tiring day,” Amy murmured, as she stepped out of the Emergency Department. The automatic doors slid shut behind her with a soft hiss, cutting the fluorescent chaos she had just left off. Amy shakes her arms, trying to get rid of the ache and exhaustion that settled deep into her bones. Another twelve-hour shift done. Another day of holding lives together with a 4-cups of coffee and a borrowed smile.

  She walked alone down the cracked pavement, her sneakers making a noise with each step against the concrete. Her thoughts drifted—as they often did—backward.

  She was an orphan. Left alone at the steps of an orphanage when she was just a baby, with no name and explanation. Her childhood consisted of cold nights, shared blankets, and growling stomachs. Amy learned that no one was going to rescue her, so she became her own rescue. She clawed her way through school, studying by dim light, skipping meals, determined to rise above the label that had defined her: unwanted.

  Against the odds, she graduated high school at the top of her class, chasing a dream that had always felt just out of reach—becoming a doctor. The white coat. The Stethoscope. The ability to give hope to the hopeless, that’s what she wants. But dreams are expensive, and life is not often fair. Attending Medical School costs way too much.

  So she adjusted. Pivoted. Survive. Becoming a Nurse became her path forward. It’s not a Doctor, but it was still medicine. Still helping people. Still fighting a good fight.

  But the cost of attending still followed her.

  “The amount of loans I need to pay back,” she muttered under her breath, glancing up at the sky above. “Interest piling up, then rent, then the water bill… phone plan.. Ugh. Guess it’s noodles for me again tonight.”

  She stopped at a crosswalk. The city around her buzzed quietly—street lights humming, a car in the distance, a dog barking somewhere out of sight. In the stillness, her mind wandered again, as she waited for a green light.

  It’s fine, she told herself. I’ll just work for a few years for experience. Then maybe join a RN-to-MD bridge program. I’ll get there. Eventually. She smiled faintly, preventing herself from falling apart. And anyway, helping people at their worst moment… that's not such a bad reward in itself.

  The light turned green.

  Amy stepped forward.

  “WATCH OUT!” someone screamed.

  She turned just in time to see the blind glare of headlights hurtling towards her, at frightening speed. The world tilted. Time fractured. There was a sharp, jarring impact—

  And then darkness.

  ? . 　? 　 . ? . 　? 　 . ? . 　? 　 .? . 　? 　 . ? . 　? 　 . ?

  Her eyes shot open to sunlight pouring through tall, arched windows, casting golden streaks across the room. She was lying in a bed—massive, soft far larger than anything she has ever slept in before. Queen size? No. Much bigger, she thought. The comforter was thick, embroidered with gold thread, and sheets felt like silk against her skin.

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  Amy sat up slowly, confusion spiraling in her head. Her mouth was dry. Her heart pounded. She looked around, searching for anything familiar—anything that made sense. The more her eyes roamed, the more confused she became.

  She didn’t recognize the room at all.

  Not the tall marble columns framing the walls.

  Not the extravagant chandelier glimmering overhead.

  Not the birds chirping outside, to be fair she doesn’t know much about birds.

  Her gaze landed on a painting hanging to the left—a grand, oil portrait of a woman in regal attire, face serene, back straight, eyes oddly familiar.

  Which doesn’t make sense, as Amy had never seen it before.

  She turned her head toward the other side of the room—and froze. There, in front of a tall vanity mirror with an ornate golden frame, sat a woman.

  Her.

  But… not her.

  The woman in the mirror had long, silver hair that cascaded in perfect waves over her shoulders. Her skin is smooth, paler, seemingly untouched by the long hospital shifts and sleepless nights Amy knows too well. Her eyes are large, framed by thick lashes, with golden pupils. Her posture is elegant, refined, and deliberate.

  “WHAT!” she shouted—but her voice wasn’t her own.

  It was softer. Smoother. Almost melodic.

  Her hands flew to her throat in panic. Even her skin felt different—softer, thinner, unfamiliar.

  “What is happening?” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hands, as if trying to prevent the unfamiliar voice to escape her throat.

  Amy stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping on the long, flowing fabric of the nightgown that she hadn’t been weakening before. Her bare feet met cold marble floors as she took shaky steps toward the mirror, gripping the vanity for support.

  She once again looks at her reflection, as the person in the mirror stares back—disheveled, confused, and beautiful.

  Who is this? Amy thought. Where am I?

  Before she could gather herself, a loud crash pierces her chaotic thoughts.

  Amy jumped, whirling towards the sound.

  A porcelain vase lay in pieces near the door, water and fresh petals spilling across the polished marble. Beside it stood a young maid, frozen mid-step, her face pale with shock and her hands trembling violently.

  Both of their eyes met.

  Neither of them moved. The maid’s lips parted, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes darted from Amy’s face to the bed, then back again—then wide with recognition, or perhaps with disbelief, the maid turned and bolted.

  “THE LADY HAS AWOKEN!” she shrieked, her voice echoing down the hallway. “THE LADY HAS AWOKEN!”

  The heavy door slammed shut behind her, leaving Amy alone again, her heart once again hammering in her chest.

  What the hell is going on?