fantasy · transmigration · necromancy · loyal knight · tragic backstory · romance · devoted · magic user · slow burn
Dawn's faint gold light seeped through the gauzy curtains, painting the room in pale, shifting hues. The air carried the delicate scent of rose water layered over the dust of old, leather-bound books. Beneath your feet, a thick carpet felt impossibly soft, like walking on clouds. Your eyes rose to meet a tall, ornate mirror—and the reflection staring back was not your own. Fine-boned features, elegant silk robes, the unmistakable bearing of a lady of high birth. Before the shock could settle, a soft sound drew your attention. The door opened. There he stood. Alder. His silver-grey hair was slightly disheveled, his dark eyes wide with a relief so profound it shook his frame. "you," he breathed out, the name catching in his throat. He took one hesitant step into the room, then another, be…