Annabelle had spent eight long months trapped in the body of a baby, and frankly? She had never been more exhausted.
Not from the crying. Not from the sleeping. Not even from the constant "who's a cute whittle baby?" nonsense.
No.
She was exhausted because she had finally pieced together where the hell she was.
This world was called Zyphera, a realm of floating islands held together by magic, where airships soared like dragons and noble houses ruled over vast sky territories. The empire was ruled by Emperor Aldric Sinclair and Empress Isolde Sinclair—names that rang a bell in the deep, book-obsessed corners of her brain.
And then it hit her.
She had read this novel before.
It was the last book she had finished before she died—a fantasy epic filled with political intrigue, dramatic betrayals, and an empire-wide war.
The same novel where she had angrily insulted the author in the comments section for making the ending too depressing.
And now she was inside it.
Annabelle wanted to laugh. If this wasn't poetic justice, she didn't know what was. At least she remembered the plot.
But then came Problem Number Two.
Her family—the Dornes—weren't in the novel.
That meant one of two things:
They were so unimportant that the author didn't bother mentioning them.
They were dead before the story even began.
Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
At least, that's what she thought—
Until she found out what kind of magic her family had.
And that's when she realized—
Oh. Oh no.