Chapter Text
I never believed in rebirth and all that afterlife stuff. Well, to be more accurate, it’s not that I didn’t believe, I just didn’t care. I still had plenty of time before I’d start gaining gray hairs and turning philosophical, so I focused on the present and dwelled only on the past.
I got into a decent university for a decent program. I had plans for my career, even snagged a decent part time job.
Then it just stopped.
Seventeen years of unneeded character development, a month of my life finally picking itself back together, one second of death, and then bam.
I died.
Then I woke up. I couldn’t see at first, but I could move. To be honest, I thought my family accidentally buried me alive, thinking I was dead. But I soon realized I had in fact died and was later reborn.
Naturally, as an avid consumer of all things fantasy, I figured I must be some sort of ‘main character’. Surely rebirth with memories of your past life isn’t this common. But no, I didn’t get an audience with the ‘ultimate creator’. No system messages popped up with random missions and a sassy attitude and no, I wasn’t some prophesied chosen one.
I was just living another life, plain and simple. My parents owned an antique shop with an especially large collection of books. I had a twin brother, Dolyn, who was, expectedly, extremely annoying, and a childhood friend who lived across the street. Though, I’m convinced she only became my friend because she liked my brother, and I just happened to be a bonus.
Six years passed and nothing new happened. I started elementary school. My childhood friend moved away. I was bored. To be honest, I was so bored, I considered killing myself to see if I’d get a third life, but I chose not to. I’m not the biggest fan of pain.
Then, on a random school day, my magic manifested. I was hiding in the west entrance of my school during recess hoping to avoid the scorching heat outside. The principal knew that kids would try to hide inside, so she and a few other teachers would patrol the hallways. I was hiding in the coatracks outside the preschool room. Unfortunately, the teacher saw my shoes, more specifically, he saw that the shoes had a pair of legs in them. All I remember was there being a flash of cold as he tried to drag me to the office. Next thing I knew, ice had formed around his feet, preventing him from moving. I didn’t question the sudden appearance of ice in the middle of summer and made a run for it. It was only after recess that I was called down to the office. I was expecting some kind of reprimand, but instead, the principal was beaming at me as if I just won a Nobel prize.
“You’re a mage.”
Everyone kept repeating that, over and over. I thought it was some weird punishment, maybe psychological torture is acceptable here. But everyone was so happy while saying that, to the point they even forgot about me hiding in the school during recess. Eventually, I came to realize that magic was in fact, real. It was rare, only manifesting in roughly 10% of the population, and I was part of that 10%.
A few days later Dolyn’s magic also present itself. It was a bit of a disastrous presentation, but nevertheless, the Sterling household now had two mages. My parents who are absolute geeks, paraded us around the neighborhood. Everyone was happy, they even threw a small celebration.
Aside from that, everything else was the same. I went to school, was forced into many extracurriculars, and just kept living.
“You’re going to a mage academy.”
“No, I’m not.”
My mother and father sat across the table with their arms crossed, gazing at me sternly. Scattered across the table were sheets of paper with high school advertisements and small handbooks with the smiling students plastered on the fronts.
“Gwen, we aren’t repeating ourselves. Pick three and we can all move on.”
“My magic isn’t that strong and magical professions are all tedious. Plus, most mage academies force us to do a whole extra year for internships, I’d technically be receiving my diploma a whole year after everyone else,” I argue.
If there’s anything my first lifetime taught me, it’s the specialized programs are never worth it. All you get are tougher courses and tougher teachers, making it even harder to high grades. Additionally, everyone hates you because they think you’re a snob.
“Those internships are to improve your chances of getting a job somewhere you like,” My mom says. “You have the chance of a lifetime to get into something that our family has never reached. Even Dolyn, who’s academics were at rock bottom, picked himself up just to try and apply.”
Dolyn, who was lounging around on the sofa looks up from his book and frowns. He doesn’t say anything though, because what mom just said was true. I would know. He coerced me into tutoring him by giving me half his allowance.
“I pick whatever Dolyn picks.”
They share a look. I can see the silent debate going between the two of them. My father gives my mom an ‘are-you-serious?’ look before giving in.
“If you say so,” They say.
I came to regret that soon after.
The school year passes by in the blink of an eye. I made sure to throw out every possible acceptance letter from anything with the word mage in it and accepted an offer from my home high school. Even though my parents tried their best to lug me to a magical institution, they’ll just have to accept this outcome. Dolyn already got accepted into some prestigious academy so I’m sure they won’t really care. Ahead of me are relaxed classes and a smooth ride to university. I’ll do a simple degree in business or maybe do a dual degree with history or something and just take over the antique shop.
At least, that was supposed to be the plan.
But no, instead, I find myself being jumbled around in a box with velvet cloth wrapping around my limbs. Dolyn had yelled at me to go answer the door. Before I could even fully step out, I was thrown into a carriage and then wrestled into some sort of container. Shortly after, I heard the thud of three heavy objects being thrown in beside me and a muffled chorus of goodbyes.
My first thought was that my parents had finally accumulated a gambling debt and sold me to a mafia. Perhaps I had transmigrated into a 2010s fanfic and I’m now on my way to meeting One Direction.
What feels like forever passes and the box shifts into a vertical position with a slight bobbing motion. Faint rustling noises come from all around me. Light faintly seeps in from the cracks of the container and with a loud creak, the door opens. Everything felt blinding at first, but I could soon make out where exactly I was. It was a wide circular room with coffins floating along the edges. People who were in the coffins began to step out and gather in the middle where there was a floating mirror on a stage. One by one, people stepped up to the mirror and after a quick conversation, they left, heading in a specific direction.
The crowd starts to thin out before I finally step out of my coffin. Every decoration oddly familiar, there was something that I just couldn’t put my finger on. Was this a cult? Surely my parents didn’t actually sell me off. Is this a trafficking scheme? I’m pretty sure my family has a history of kidney stones so I don’t think my organs are good enough to be sold off.
The few people behind me begin shoving forward, impatient for their turn. Soon it was my turn. I take a step into the spotlight encasing the mirror. The closer I got, the more I could make of the mirror. An oddly sculpted face emerges from the murky glass and opens its eyes to reveal dark empty sockets.
“State thy name,” The face demands.
An odd request, don’t human traffickers keep records of their purchases?
“State thy name,” It repeats.
The people below me begin to murmur impatiently. It was like a quiet warning that if I don’t hurry up, I’ll be shot and sold at the cheapest price. A tragic end for my tragic kidneys. They're already failing from my cripping diet. Even my liver probably won't be worth much.
“Gwen Sterling,” I finally answer.
“Hm…” The mirrors face morphs in the one of deep contemplation. “The nature of your soul, it is that of Diasomnia.”
“What?” I blurt out. My ears must be wrong, there’s no way.
“Diasomnia.”
Blood rushes to my head as I struggle to come to terms with this information. No wonder everything felt oddly familiar. The coffins, the robes, the wand I just realized was clipped to my side, I was an idiot not to recognize it. If this really was a trafficking ring, my brain would be f tier.
I duck off to the side and try to figure out where to go. Some students look up at me with distaste.
“Fae prick.”
“Snob.”
They’re whispering loud enough for me to hear.
Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to care about their opinions for now. I scan the crowd and find a group of students with lime green wands, Diasomnias. I leap down the stage and quickly blend into the group, finding a quiet, yet not too secluded edge to stand by.
My thoughts wander as the rest of ceremony continues. If this really is where I think I am, where am I on the timeline? Is this after the story or before? Did I luck out and enter in the exact year it starts? And most importantly, how in the world did I, a female, end up in a male academy? Does this school not screen through applicants?
My thoughts were interrupted when a man with a black mask burst through the door, followed by two figures, one was holding a gray cat with blue flames who certainly did not look happy.
“I most certainly did not!” The man yells. The proclamation made no sense out of context.
I peek over the crowd to catch a better glimpse of the two figures. There should only be one, probably with brown hair, androgynous features and bangs that covered their eyes. The typical self-insert design. Assuming the gray cat is Grim, that means I’ve entered NRC at the same time as the main story. I suppose school just isn’t school without perpetual death around the corner. Two world hoppers were not expected but there shouldn’t be too much of a butterfly effect.
Instead, one has long black hair, reaching down to their waist, while the other has dusty blonde hair, tied haphazardly in a bun that threatens to break loose. Grim was tightly nestled in the blonde’s arms.
The one holding Grim steps up and asks the masked mage, Crowley, something. Just as they step up, I can’t help but notice their eyes. A stormy gray that turns incandescent in the light, there’s only one person I’ve met that has eyes like that.
Crowley ushers them to the mirror and backs away just as quickly.
“State thy names.”
“Cheryl Zhou.”
“Taryn Palms.”
“Hmm, the nature of your soul is…” The mirror goes silent as its features morph into one of shock, “unclear to me.”
Whispers erupt around the room, everyone shocked or annoyed. Crowley questions the mirror, demanding to know what happened. Cheryl and Taryn look at each other confused. Taryn opens their mouth to say something, but Cheryl stops them, shaking her head.
“What did you say?” Crowley asks in disbelief.
“I sense no magical power in these two, soundless, shapeless, a void.”
“Are you implying that the black carriage made a mistake for the first time since the school’s century of existence?”
“Um, sorry, but if we don’t belong here can we go back home now?” Taryn speaks up.
“Of course-”
“NYAARGH-”
A gigantic flame ball came barreling in my direction. I narrowly dodge the fire, but it hits the person behind me in the bottom.
“My butt! It’s on fire!” The person starts dancing around, trying to get rid of the flame.
“Um, magic, don’t you know some water spells?” I point at my magic pen, “Just use it on your behind.”
“Oh!” The prancing boy douses his bottom and breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks!”
I manage to make out their face and realize who it is, Kalim. Of course it’s the sunshine child, Kalim. I spare him one last glance before pushing into the crowd, looking for Cheryl and Taryn.
A blur of red and purple-grey zip by, racing after the runaway cat while other students clear out of the room hoping not to get cooked crispy. Huddled at the sides were the two I was looking for. They were crouched down while blasts of blue fire burned across the ground, spreading quickly as if the ground was doused in oil.
I do a quick jog over to them and kneel, “Yo.”
Cheryl eyes me up and down, hostile. “I swear to god if this is some cult recruitment-”
“Shh,” I wave my hands and hush her. “No need for formalities Cherry, good old Nory is here to save the day.”
Taryn stares at me, shocked. “No.”
“Hi.”
“You’re a guy.”
“Damn,” I click my tongue feigning disappointment. “First thing you say after all this time is you’re a guy? Not even a I missed you?”
“No! It’s just, you look nothing like Nory.” Taryn stutters, gesturing at my unfamiliar appearance.
I can’t help but grin, their expressions are priceless right now. “But I’m back alive oof-”
Cheryl tackles me down with a hug, crushing my ribs and probably my spine as well.
“Emotional much?” I tease.
Cheryl, who was crushing my entire skeletal system, looks up with the ugliest crying face and glares at me. “How about I die, and you go through a whole fucking funeral watching my body being buried underground just to be thrown into the most emo carriage and experience whatever this is! Three days Nory. THREE DAYS!”
“I’m kidding, I missed you too.” Three days since my death? Imagine how they’d react if they knew it's been 15 years for me. “Taryn? Care to join us in getting a spinal?”
“Fine.” They step closer and Cheryl pulls them in.
A good minute passes and Cheryl is finally in the right physical state to coherently communicate. She pulls away and wipes the mix of fluids on her face with her sleeve, ruining the priceless robes draped around her.
“So, explain.” She demands, back to the usual Cheryl.
I shake my head. “Not right now, a main event’s going to happen soon. I’ll catch you later once you enter the haunted mine.”
“Haunted mine?”
“Yep, bye! Don’t die on me.” I slip away as Crowley begins to angrily stomp toward the two.
As much as greetings and explanations are in order, I’d rather not be caught as a reincarnator. Though I probably should’ve at least told them where they are right now.
This is Twisted Wonderland. Disney villains, but in the form of angsty teens.