When I finally stirred from my fevered haze, the world around me felt distant and unfamiliar, as though I were seeing it through someone else’s eyes.

  Warm sunlight streamed through a rustic wooden window, casting golden streaks across the thatched ceiling. The air carried the earthy scent of herbs and fresh straw, comforting, yet foreign.

  I wasn’t in my old world anymore. Even the bed’s fragrance was unfamiliar, distinctly feminine. A lock of auburn hair fell across my vision, my hair, yet not mine. The hand I lifted to shield my eyes from the sunlight was small and delicate, nothing like the one I had known as my own.

  Faint murmurs drifted through the air, soft, emotional.

  Then, a voice I didn’t recognize escaped my lips.

  “I’m feeling much better now, Mother.”

  Wait, what?

  I hadn’t meant to speak, yet the words flowed effortlessly, as if they belonged to someone else. And what was even more unsettling, I understood them, despite never having learned this language.

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I found myself staring up at a woman whose gentle face was streaked with tears of relief.

  “Oh, by the merciful gods, this is a miracle!” she gasped, pressing a trembling hand to her lips. “I had faith you would wake up eventually, but it’s been weeks, Brigid. No one was sure if…”

  “I could never stray far from you, Mother,” said my lips, though the voice was not mine. “The storm has passed, and I feel my health is on the mend. Let no more tears fall for my sake.”

  A warmth blossomed in my chest, foreign yet familiar. It wasn’t mine, it was hers, this girl named Brigid, whose body I had somehow taken over.

  As she looked around her room, I felt a deep wave of nostalgia wash over her. This was her room—her personal space.

  I had expected the usual trappings of a teenage girl’s sanctuary: pastel walls, plush toys, maybe a few boy-band posters. But not here. The walls were bare, save for several bouquets of dried flowers, hung upside-down. Their faint fragrances still lingered in the air, whispering of summer days long gone.

  Before I could even process the weight of that realization, a high-pitched shriek shattered the tender moment.

  “BIG SISTER BRIGID!”

  A small torpedo in the form of a little girl crashed into my chest, knocking the wind out of my frail body.

  Oof…! Pain flared through my ribs as tiny arms wrapped around me in a crushing embrace.

  “Ennie…” I gasped, or rather, Brigid did, as tears welled up in my eyes. The name surfaced naturally, as if it had been mine all along. It was disconcerting how seamlessly I could pull from this girl’s memories. Well, we do share the same brain, after all.

  “I’m so sorry, Sister Brigid!” the girl sobbed against my chest, her tiny fists clutching my tunic. “I was so worried I’d never see you again! I…I’m sorry I got you hurt protecting me from the dog! I didn’t know what to do. I thought you’d never wake up” She hiccupped, burying her face against my shoulder.

  Brigid’s emotions surged through me, warm and overflowing. This was love. Pure, familial love. And I, Lucas, a foreign soul was intruding on it. I didn’t belong here. I was supposed to take over this body, yet here I was, drowning in Brigid’s feelings her grief, her joy, her overwhelming relief at reuniting with her little sister.

  And the strangest part? Somewhere in this tangled mess of emotions… I found myself crying too. I could feel Brigid’s tears, indistinguishable from my own.

  “Now, now, Ennie, let’s not smother your sister,” Brigid’s mother gently pried the little girl off me. “She just woke up and is still weak. Be careful not to press on her wounds.”

  Ennie sniffled but nodded obediently. “Why don’t you go call your father from the barracks? He’ll be overjoyed to know Brigid has finally woken up.”

  “Yes, Mother!” Ennie bolted out the door, her rapid footsteps fading on the wooden floorboards as she ran out.

  Brigid’s mother turned back to me, her expression warm and full of tenderness. A mother who wasn’t mine. But even so, when she dipped a cloth into a basin of cool water and began gently wiping my face, a sensation long forgotten stirred within me. A warmth I hadn’t realized I had lost.

  So, this is what it feels like… to be cared for.

  She brushed my tangled hair with practiced fingers, humming softly. “Would you like some water? Should I bring you something to eat?” she asked kindly. “It’s almost dinnertime. Just rest, my love. I’ll go fetch Bodhmall, I’ll be back soon.”

  And with that, she left the room, her footsteps soft against the wooden floor.

  I lay motionless in bed, Brigid’s emotions still washing over me, her lingering warmth refusing to fade. In my past life, I had been abandoned by my parents, I never knew the comfort of a mother’s love. Until now. A love that isn’t truly mine, yet feels viscerally real and sincere.

  I had entered this body to carry out a mission, to save this world at the behest of a goddess.

  But now…

  Now, I was beginning to understand the weight of the life I had inherited.

  Brigid lay back in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, her thoughts churning like a storm-tossed sea.

  “What a nightmare… So, I didn’t die after all.”

  You did die. I was the one who….

  “WAHHHHHHHH!?”

  Brigid screamed, nearly stopping my non-existent heart.

  Oh, crap.

  Sorry to have startled….

  “Who are you!?” she shouted, her voice shaking with hysteria.

  …Yeah. Maybe this wasn’t the best time for introductions.

  Calm down, girl! There’s no need to scream, I reasoned. I can hear you just fine if you talk inside your mind, just like I’m doing right now.

  Brigid opened her mouth to yell again, but before she could, her mother burst into the room, panic etched across her face.

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  “Brigid!? What happened!? Are you in pain?”

  Brigid blinked, frozen in stunned silence.

  I could feel the turmoil in her mind.

  She was torn, should she confess everything, reveal the strange voice in her head? Or dismiss it as a misunderstanding?

  In the end, survival instincts won out.

  “I…. I’m fine, Mother,” Brigid said, forcing her voice to steady. “My shoulder just hurt all of a sudden. Maybe the wound from the bite hasn’t healed completely.”

  Her mother frowned in concern, leaning in to inspect her bandaged shoulder.

  “But you screamed like someone had broken in. And you asked...”

  “Oh, that! I’m sorry!” Brigid interrupted quickly, laughing nervously. “I was just confused, that’s all. There’s only me here, no one else. The pain in my shoulder surprised me, I thought someone had cut me, but I must have just moved wrong.”

  Her mother sighed in relief, though her brow remained furrowed.

  “It might have been Ennie squeezing you too hard. I really must caution her to be more careful. The wound seems to have healed well, but it left such a scar…”

  Brigid nodded, grateful for the excuse.

  “Just lie back down and rest, love. Try not to strain yourself. I’ll go fetch the bandrui.”

  With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Silence.

  A long silence.

  You... can hear me? Brigid’s voice echoed hesitantly in my mind.

  I can, I answered. I’m Lucas. I was the one who saved you when you died.

  Brigid stiffened.

  I... died?

  Yes.

  But I’m alive now?

  Yes.

  Her breathing turned shaky, thoughts swirling in confusion.

  How? Explain, please. I don’t understand what’s going on anymore. And why are you inside my head?

  I took a deep breath not that I needed to since she was breathing for us and began explaining everything.

  The fall.

  Merchecna.

  Her choosing me as an emissary.

  How I was sent here.

  How Brigid should have died but somehow held on and how we now shared this body.

  Brigid listened intently, her mind going still the moment I mentioned Merchecna’s name. Then, to my surprise, she clasped her hands together in silent prayer.

  “I pray to Merchecna every day,” she whispered reverently. “I know I would not have made it without her grace. May her radiance warm our hearth and home.”

  There was such deep devotion in her voice that I found myself at a loss for words.

  Why do you pray to Merchecna in particular? I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

  Brigid smiled faintly.

  My father is a knight, and I wish for his safety and advancement. But women cannot pray to Neith, the God of War.

  Her voice grew softer, more thoughtful.

  Instead, we pray to Merchecna for intercession. She is the daughter of Neith and Ecna, the Goddess of Wisdom. She bridges the gap between mortal women and her father’s martial power, just as she mediates between wisdom and warfare.

  I let her words sink in.

  To her, Merchecna wasn’t just a goddess. She was a guiding force, a link between wisdom and war, between life and death.

  I’m not a religious person, I admitted. And the gods of my world stream... they’re nothing like the ones here.

  Brigid tilted her head slightly, as if trying to fathom what kind of world that could be.

  World stream? Different gods?

  Her thoughts buzzed with curiosity.

  That’s what Merchecna told me, so I can’t say for sure,” I admitted. “But she did negotiate with the gods of my world to transfer me here. That means there are definitely other worlds, each with its own set of gods and goddesses.

  Wow, that’s incredible, Brigid exclaimed inwardly in awe. So... does that make you a servant of Merchecna?

  An unwilling recruit at best, I replied dryly. I was basically shanghaied.

  Shang…haied? Brigid tilted her head. What’s that?

  Oh! Wow! Wait, this is so strange… but somehow, I know you’re referring to a city in your world! And—oh! You mean being forced into service on a ship! She gasped. How am I understanding your thoughts like this?

  I smirked. I think it’s because we’re sharing the same brain. Since we’re both in here, we can clearly hear and understand each other’s thoughts. Notice how we’re speaking different languages, yet we still understand each other perfectly?

  Brigid’s wonder grew. That’s amazing! But going back to what you said earlier… Even if you were unwilling, the Goddess must have had her reasons. You're helping protect this world, aren’t you?

  I sighed. Well, yes, but not by choice.

  Well, you still saved my life, Brigid said with conviction. I think I like you after all, mister!

  It’s Lucas, I corrected. That’s my name. And you’re Brigid, I take it?

  Huh?! You heard everything? Brigid’s embarrassment spiked, and I could feel the heat of her blush through our shared consciousness.

  Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway.

  The door swung open, and a tall, lean man strode in, clad in the garb of a medieval man-at-arms. A well-worn sword hung by his hip, the mark of someone well-acquainted with battle. His rugged face softened instantly upon seeing Brigid awake.

  “Brigid!” His voice wavered, betraying the raw emotion beneath his disciplined exterior. “By the grace of the divine… you’re finally awake! How I’ve missed you!”

  “Father!” Brigid’s voice trembled, her heart swelling with warmth. “I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry my long sleep has weighed on you… but please, let your heart rest easy now.”

  The two embraced tightly.

  I could feel the cold steel of his chainmail press against Brigid, but in the warmth of the moment, it didn’t matter to her at all.

  Before I could slip into my usual role as an awkward observer, Ennie burst into the room, flinging herself into her father’s and sister’s arms.

  This warmth… it’s overwhelming.

  I could feel her love for her family radiate through our shared consciousness, a stark contrast to the cold, pragmatic existence I had lived before. I shouldn’t be here. This is her moment.

  Just then, Brigid’s mother returned, accompanied by an elderly woman draped in layers of earth-toned wool. A leather belt cinched her waist, adorned with pouches of dried herbs and bone-carved trinkets that clicked softly with each step.

  Her piercing eyes, sharp despite her age, locked onto Brigid.

  “What a lucky lass you are to have escaped the clutches of Shuibhne,” the old woman, Bodhmall mused. “In all my years as a bandrui, I have never saved a single soul from the God of Madness. Until now.”

  “Bodhmall!” Brigid beamed, her voice brimming with reverent gratitude. “You saved me from the parched madness… Thank you—for drawing me back from the edge of death.”

  Bodhmall snorted. “Hmph! Let me tell you, girl, it wasn’t easy. I had to hide you from the gods themselves and drug you into a feigned death.” She reached forward and tapped a rune painted at the base of Brigid’s throat. “Shuibhne loves to torment his victims, but once they die, he loses interest like a cat done toying with a mouse.”

  Her gaze darkened. “The drugs I used were strong. So strong, in fact, that under any other circumstance, I'd be called a poisoner. But I took pity on you. A lass who’d throw herself in front of a mad dog to save her sister deserved at least a fighting chance.”

  Brigid’s lips trembled. “So… it was a miracle?”

  “Merchecna must have taken notice,” Bodhmall admitted gruffly. “Perhaps she pitied you. Perhaps your piety earned you her favor. Either way, you are alive now, and for that, my gratitude belongs to the divine.”

  I frowned inwardly.

  Rabies.

  That’s what she was describing a disease nearly 100% fatal, even in my world.

  On Earth, there’s a vaccine, but once symptoms set in, there’s no cure.

  I mulled over Bodhmall’s explanation. Her method sounded vaguely similar to the Milwaukee Protocol, a radical treatment for rabies that only a handful of people have ever survived. But that was on Earth, with 21st-century medical knowledge and care.

  Yet something didn’t add up. Did Merchecna actually save Brigid? I didn’t think so. I recall she had meant to let Brigid die.

  You shouldn’t doubt the Goddess. Brigid sensed my scepticism and whispered into my thoughts, her voice reverent and firm. Merchecna’s mercy is boundless, and for that, she has my gratitude. Don’t you think… the Goddess planned all this? The parched madness, the healing, even you?

  I resisted the urge to scoff.

  You give the goddess too much credit.

  But I kept that last thought to myself.

  Just then, Brigid’s mother returned, her warm hands gently guiding her out of bed.

  “Come now, let’s get you to the table,” she said, her voice full of relief.

  Brigid's legs wobbled as she took her first steps, but with her mother’s steady support, she made it to the dining table, where a simple meal had already been laid out.

  The moment she sat down, all eyes were on her… brimming with joy and gratitude.

  “Brigid, you should’ve seen Father when I told him you woke up,” Ennie giggled. “He nearly bumped into the doorframe rushing to tell the others!”

  Her father coughed, trying to maintain his dignity, but the redness in his ears betrayed him.

  “I did no such thing,” he huffed. “I simply moved with urgency.”

  Brigid giggled at the exchange, her chest swelling with warmth.

  As the meal went on, conversation flowed easily talk of the coming harvest, her father’s training, and even Ennie’s improved wool carding skills. The gruel in her bowl was thin, hardly anything special, yet somehow, it tasted better than anything she had ever eaten.

  To Brigid, this moment was everything.

  And to me, a man who had never known family from birth, it was the first time I had ever basked in such warmth.

  For the first time since arriving in this world, I thought that maybe, just maybe… this new life was worth looking forward to.