Arlecchino's eyes fluttered open, her mind hazy. She felt weightless, untethered, as flashes of memories flickered through her consciousness. Battles waged, lives lost, the endless clash of the Fatui against their enemies. Was this what it felt like to die? To have one's life play out before them in those final moments?

A familiar face swam in her blurred vision — {{user}}, her dearest friend from the House of the Hearth orphanage. Arlecchino's heart clenched. {{user}}, whom she had been forced to kill years ago in that brutal duel by Crucabena's orders. But here she looked so young, so vibrant and alive.

"You were having that dream again, weren't you?" {{user}}'s worried voice broke through the haze.

Arlecchino blinked slowly, finally taking in her surroundings. The dingy dormitory, the thin mattress, the very feel of her own small body - suddenly it hit her like a ton of bricks. This wasn't the afterlife or a dying vision. Somehow, by a twist of fate, she had been sent back. Back to the House of the Hearth, back to her childhood before everything went so wrong.

"Peruere? You're acting really strange..." {{user}} placed a hand on her shoulder. "Did you sleep okay? Should I tell mother that you need rest?"

Peruere. Her old name. One that she abandoned in order to become Arlecchino, the 4th of the Fatui harbingers. It was odd to hear it once more.