If the woman was right, then whether I was this body’s original soul or not didn’t much matter — in either case, that meant I was dead. I waited for panic to hit me at the idea, but nothing came. I didn’t feel dead.

I couldn’t remember dying. Frowning, I tried to determine the last thing I remembered, but it was vague. It was Tuesday, I think? I had cereal for breakfast. Then … I don’t know, I studied probably? This felt like trying to recall a completely mundane day a while ago.

But of course I wouldn’t remember dying. It took a while to form long-term memories, changing synapse strengths and whatever. That’s why people sometimes lost a bit after head trauma. I’d heard about that in class, but I couldn’t remember the exact timeframe. Was it twenty minutes, a few hours?

This didn’t answer how the hell my memories were supposed to be transferred across universes. Let alone my soul, whatever that was supposed to be.

I shook my head, trying to focus on my situation. “Actually, how do you know about this?”

The woman smiled as if pleased at the question, but somehow I could still make out the sadness beneath her manner. My body’s previous occupant must have known her well.

“You’re hardly the first. Soul journeys are a mark of our clan. Most members of the family experience one, although the details can vary greatly. It’s not uncommon to lose some knowledge of our world on our return. Myself, I only have vague memories of my time before my soul journey, and that’s expected. A few are lucky enough to retain — or perhaps regain — very clear memories. While others, sadly, are left with very little.”

I digested that for a moment. So I was in a whole family of transmigrators? That could be good or bad.

“But I remember my life on Earth clearly,” I pointed out, using the English word for Earth.

Her face lightened up a little. “Oh, Earth? Great,” she said in English. “I hoped for that.”

I stared at her. “You’re from Earth, too? You transmigrated from Earth? Wait, what year was it?”

“Yes, I did. To answer your earlier question, we all recall our reincarnated lives clearly. That’s just how it works, for some reason. And I died in the spring of 2019.”

While I had a bit of an accent, she spoke English perfectly, so far as I could tell. If I had to guess, she was from the US, but I’ve never been good with placing dialects. But she didn’t seem as if she’d died a year ago. “2019? But I’m from 2020. How long have you been, uh, back?”

“About thirty years,” she said with an interested gleam in her eyes. “This sort of phenomenon is common, although a thirty-to-one ratio isn’t. And yes, I know you somehow fit your life on Earth into nine days, and I came back before you were born. No one is really sure about how time works between universes. But looking at the records, there are often times when transmigrators from the same period go to the same world, usually in a short timespan. There are many different worlds out there, so this is quite lucky in a way.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Is there any way to go back?”

She shook her head. “No. This world does have occasional contact with other worlds, through things like temporary portals or displaced strangers. But they’re rare, and so far as we know, there’s no way to deliberately travel to a specific world. Believe me, I’ve looked. Not to mention that your other body is dead. I’m sorry.”

I clenched my fists. If I’m dead, what about my family? They’ll think I’ve really died! I mean, I did, but I’m sort of fine. But they’ll be grieving. I need to let them know I’m okay.

“There’s no way to get a message to Earth?”

“No.” She sighed. “I wish there was, but our family’s been studying this for centuries and we’ve never found a way to contact the loved ones of our old lives, except through sheer luck.”

I fell silent. This was a hard pill to swallow. It didn’t help that my reaction was all in my mind. I didn’t feel any grief in a physical sense, no urge to cry or racing heartbeat or even tight throat. It was eerie.

After a moment, I sighed. Don’t be like that, I chided myself. You’ve been transported into a fantasy world! This is awesome. Hell, if it’s virtual reality or whatever, enjoy it while it lasts.

I looked around the room. My former guide had taken a post guarding the door, and he and the rest stood still and silent, giving no indication that they cared if they could follow our conversation or not.

“So, who are you? Who are we?”

The woman smiled and suddenly my air cut off. Pressure pushed me down in my chair, a presence emanating from her so strongly I couldn’t even move a finger. And still, the veil over her power remained, simply lifting a bit.

“I am Empress Leri Acura,” she declared. Suddenly the pressure vanished. “And you are my firstborn and likely heir, Princess Leri Inaris.”

I exhaled shakily, aware just how weak I was compared to this person, but it was her words that caught my focus. So, royalty. She said ‘likely’, so the succession wasn’t set in stone? Did I have to prove my strength or something, if it wasn’t birth order?

“Inaris. Leri Inaris,” I said, tasting the words. I supposed it was a good enough name.

The empress made a gesture with one hand, and light flowed out of it, condensing in the air before us. It expanded until it was a large rectangle, then turned black and reflective. She’d created a mirror. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to me to wonder if magic was even real, but this was definitely magic.

I studied the person looking back at me from the mirror. The face didn’t look like mine, although there were definite similarities to the woman across from me. The girl had blond hair instead of black, but the same gray eyes, and her features were pretty, perhaps even beautiful, with high cheekbones and a delicate nose. Probably an adult, but only just. I looked further down and saw an athletic figure, with moderately large boobs. She was about as tall as my real body, of average height. If I’d met her on the street on Earth, she might have turned my head. But although I didn’t recognize it, seeing this appearance in the mirror felt right.

“Unfortunately, I have important work to do,” my new mother said, again in the local language. “There are records you will want to look at, but first, you need to learn the most important thing about this world. Aston, take her to the training courtyard.” The last one was addressed to the man who’d led me here, who bowed and came closer.

When I turned back to the Empress, she had stood up, and after a last smile at me, she and her guards vanished. Or that’s what it looked like. I could feel their presences moving away from here quickly.

I rose from my chair, too, curious about what she meant. Hopefully, I would get to learn magic now.