Riya planned on doing nothing but binge Netflix and eat junk food on the day after her college graduation. She organized a list, stocked her pantry, and even piled blankets on her couch in preparation. Exhausted but pleased, Riya went to bed, knowing that those four years were over—and that she wouldn’t wake up to the sound of her alarm. No morning classes now. Or ever. Just a solid week of lazing around.

When she opened her eyes the next day, Riya found herself… not in her bed. Wind and clattering hooves replaced the expected sunshine and birdsong. (Alright, more like the expected construction and car horns, but a girl could dream.) She craned her neck to one side and then the next. Beneath her feet were cobblestones, and a stone bridge arched above her, decorated with twinkling lights. She frowned at that. It made no sense to have Christmas decorations in summer.

Someone cleared their throat. 

Riya blinked and drew her attention to the man wearing renaissance clothes in front of her. As cosplays went, it looked incredibly accurate: he even had the doublet and fluffy hat. He held a leather book in his hand, and if he posed uncomfortably, he’d fit right into an oil painting.

“I am aware that the concept of a university is foreign to you,” he said, frowning, “but this unfortunate inexperience of yours does not justify your carelessness. You should know that I do not tolerate any disrespect in my class either. This is your only warning.”

Oh, thought Riya, I’m dreaming. As nightmares went, this one was more creative than usual. Compared to the missed tests and late-to-class scenarios that she usually got, an older man in Venetian clothing and a flowing cape was a little bit more unusual.

“Considering your background, you are very lucky to have received this opportunity.” The frown turned into a sneer. “Use it wisely.” 

“Of course,” she said, playing along. She knew his type, even in her dreams. “With such a distinguished professor like you to give me advice, I wouldn’t dream of wasting it.” Was she laying it on too thick? Well, it was better than the other way around.

He blinked at her, looking rather startled. “Ah. Yes, indeed. I am glad to hear your perspective has changed.” 

With that, the professor handed her the leather book. The cover was entirely smooth, with no indentations or seams. It was also perfectly square—about a foot long and wide—and four inches thick. Despite its awkward size, it felt lighter than a bag of chips. Even stranger, her fingers prickled the second she made contact, a sensation that grew in intensity the longer she held it.

“This is your tome.” He coughed. “I shouldn’t need to tell you to guard it wisely, but I shall anyway. More than one first-year student has found themselves in dire straits due to their carelessness,” he emphasized the word, giving her a look, “no matter how many times I repeat this lecture.”

“I understand.”

“We shall see.” The professor made a circle with his right hand, as if holding an imaginary cup, and light burst out of the tome. The glowing letters danced across her skin, warm like sunlight, before coalescing onto the formerly blank cover. An intricate seal blossomed over the front in gold, and a short name shimmered into existence above it.

Rhe Proietta.

That… that wasn’t the English alphabet.

But she knew it said ‘Rhe Proietta.’

Wait, what the hell? She couldn’t read in her dreams. And she sure as hell couldn’t read whatever that language was.

“Very good,” said the professor. “Proceed to your dorms. The next time you decide to ignore a mandatory summons, I will not hunt you down. You will find the consequences unpleasant.” He spun around, the short cape flaring after him, and strode away with self-importance.

With trembling fingers, Riya touched the glowing text marking her name—wait, fuck, that wasn’t her name!

Her head throbbed. The longer Rhe—Riya, Riya—thought about this, the stronger her headache grew. She yanked her hand away from the words and dropped the book altogether. It landed in a gunk-filled puddle, and Riya winced. Mistreating any book, especially one so carefully bound, made her feel guilty. Even in this screwed-up situation. 

With a sigh, she picked up the tome and tried to clean it with the… what the hell was she wearing? Riya patted the material. It felt like a long-sleeved, linen shirt, and the accompanying dark, belted vest looked like it was made of a rougher material. Her loose trousers were equally medieval, as were her boots. Was she cosplaying too? Did she sign up for a Ren Fair and forget?

Riya glanced back at the book, still halfway through wiping it clean, and realized that it wasn’t even a little soaked. Strange. 

Two women in long dresses strode under the bridge, arm in arm, and scoffed at her as they passed by—until they noticed the tome with glowing words. It was enough to make them pause, turning their disdain into surprise and then suspicion. 

Alright. No lingering under the Christmas bridge. Riya would go… somewhere else and then figure out what in the world was going on. 

----------------------------------------

That ‘somewhere else’ ended up being the town fountain. She parked herself on the marble ledge while water literally defied gravity above her, doing twirls and loops before splashing gently below. Thick coins of unknown currency sparkled under the water, and the city guards eyed her from the edge of the square, clearly intent on preventing any fountain theft.

(She’d done it before, so she didn’t really blame them. Then again, she’d been a desperate urchin during those awful two weeks before the orphanage had—)

No. Stop. Riya had never been an orphan or a street urchin. She had loving parents and two adorable siblings, not a tragic backstory. She’d just graduated from college. Her internship had offered her a big-girl, real job, and everything was going great.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

(Rhe was a laborer, a dockworker. It was hard work, but honest work, and after her brief, brief stint on the shady side, Rhe found that she liked honest work. It paid enough for her to share a flat with three other women, and she was careful to save—)

Okay. Okay. Riya took in a deep, shuddering breath. These memories… these memories were Rhe’s. The original owner of this body. The one who actually belonged here. In what seemed to be a different world, because this sure wasn’t her fucking own. Was this an elaborate hallucination? Or had she been dropkicked into another universe? Though Riya wasn’t a history student, she was pretty sure that the city of Viancci and the Empire of Salumen had never existed in hers. 

And this, she knew, was Viancci, the City of Mages. 

(Twice razed, but never thrice, and the pride that filled her was sudden and unexpected.)

These memories didn’t have too much information about geopolitics, but best she could tell, Viancci was the last remaining city-state of the continent, sandwiched between two hostile empires. 

It survived because those very mages that—

The horror and shock was equally sudden and unexpected, and Riya almost doubled over at the mix of emotions and the blinding headache it brought. 

Oh, no. 

She was a mage.

Riya didn’t have time to unpack the rush of tangled memories before the street-savvy corner of her brain noticed the guard approaching her. She straightened, clutching the tome to her chest, and tried for a smile. 

The guard didn’t buy it. “Mister...” He paused and corrected, “Er, miss. I see you are lingering at the fountain. Have you made a donation?” 

His partner stood several paces away, scanning the crowd every few moments. Huh. A female guard. That was interesting. If this was as ‘Renaissance Italy’ as it seemed, then a woman guard should be out of the question. 

Then again, a woman dressed in trousers—which Riya clearly was—should be equally out of the question. 

“Miss?”

Oh. She had completely ignored the guard. “Sorry, er…” It took a moment for her other set of memories to supply a proper address. “Sorry, sir. I was just… enjoying the sights.” 

Riya was a practiced sweet-talker, but even she knew that had been a poor attempt. Well, sue her. This was all pretty disorienting. The guard raised a dubious eyebrow, apparently agreeing with that assessment of her excuse, and Riya did her best to keep the ‘no-trouble-here’ smile plastered on her face.

“Enjoying the sights? Should you not be working instead of loitering?” He tapped the butt of his spear for emphasis. “And what is that you have there?” The guard gestured to the book.

“It’s… my tome?” Riya said slowly.

Just like with the ladies, his expression rapidly changed to shock, but this time it settled into exasperation. His entire demeanor shifted, and the tense line of his shoulders rose in annoyance. “Ah, running from the University, are you? No, no, don’t pretend. I can sniff out truant students like a bloodhawk.”

Bloodhawk? What? 

“Speaking of which, it is the first day of classes, isn’t it? Not a good start, not a good start at all.” 

The guard’s partner had drifted towards them when he’d started his ranting, and mercifully, she cut in before the lecture continued much further.

“Paulo, you know much about University’s schedule.” She spoke with a thick, unidentifiable accent, though it couldn’t conceal her amusement.

He puffed up at that. “Well, you see, my cousin is a student! A talented one, hard-working, too. He has a spot in the militia waiting for him the second he graduates. Our family keeps a careful eye on the University to support him, of course!” Paulo deflated a little. “And, whenever the year begins, we get a flood of rich delinquents and bored students causing trouble.” 

Both guards eyed her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying out her smile again. “I’m just…” Riya racked both sets of memories for a solution, and desperately, she cobbled one together. “I’m just… nervous,” she began. “It’s the University, and I didn’t know I was a mage until last month.”

This, she realized, was completely true. At least for one half of her—Riya still didn’t know what a mage really was.

“And,” she continued, scrunching together her eyebrows, “the thought of studying with all these young nobles and merchants, when I don’t know the beginning of a spell from its end…” 

The guards didn’t look completely convinced, but they did seem somewhat sympathetic. 

“Ah, I see,” said the woman. “You are sponsored by the City?”

Riya nodded. That sounded right. Probably.

(She’s southern, from the Broken Kingdoms, supplied Rhe’s memories, finally placing the accent. A foreigner trying to gain citizenship through serving in the militia. Likely at the end of her term, if she’s posted inside the city.)

Paulo heaved a sigh. “Alright. I’ll leave you with a warning this time.” Before she could relax too much, he added, “We’ll escort you to the campus, so don’t get any clever ideas about ditching class again.” 

Riya simply smiled and nodded, pretending like she hadn’t intended to do just that.

As the two guards escorted her through the streets, Riya picked up on another thing that distinguished the city of Viancci from the Renaissance period. Riya… still wasn’t white. This body had the warm brown skin of her actual body, though maybe a touch more golden, and it wasn’t uncommon to see other shades in the streets. And no one treated that as odd.

She gave Paulo a second look. Maybe that wasn’t just a tan… 

The woman—Meredith, she’d eventually said—followed her gaze and snorted. “That one is married. And you are better off going for a younger one.”

Paulo spluttered, and Riya sighed. To Meredith’s disappointment, she didn’t take the bait, though Paulo’s indignant speech was enough to entertain the other guard. Riya spent the rest of the long walk prodding at the bundle of memories in the back of her skull, the obvious cause of her on-and-off headache. 

Then, Riya poked it a little too hard.

A blinding migraine exploded behind her eyes, and she almost fell flat on the ground. Only Meredith’s quick reaction time spared her the humiliation of soaking in street gunk. 

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… nervous,” said Riya, repeating the same, unconvincing excuse. 

“Well, you should prepare yourself.” Paulo gave her a stern but supportive smile. “We won’t follow you inside the gates.”

Meredith nodded. “If you fall again, you are on your own.”

Riya looked up, and her eyes widened. Behind a shimmering silver gate stood an intricate set of domes, towers, and columns that looked like the love child of the Parthenon, Oxford, and the Notre Dame. The magical love child, because there was no other explanation for the physics-defying construction. 

So this was the University of Viancci. 

Riya frowned.

Oh, fucking hell, did she have to go to school all over again?