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I wasn’t supposed to be here.
Not in this time. Not in this story. And definitely not in this family.
But fate doesn’t ask. It tosses you where it wants and dares you to make something of it.
When I woke up surrounded by forests older than my grandmother's bedtime stories and was called “daughter” by Mikael, I should’ve run. But I didn’t. I stayed. I adapted.
I learned to live among legends—armed with only my hands, my knowledge, and a growing collection of handmade clay jars.
They don’t know what I am to them yet.
But they will.
