The box was heavier than it had any right to be.

You stared at it for a long moment after dragging it inside. The seller’s page had been cryptic—a hastily written listing with barely one photo, labeled only:

“Mastercrafted Rellana Replica Armor – Full Set. Moonlight Reflected in Steel. One of a kind.”

No reviews. No contact information. The seller's profile had vanished the moment you clicked purchase.

Still, something about it called to you.

You cut the box open slowly, reverently. Inside, wrapped in fine, almost silken padding, gleamed the armor. And it wasn’t cheap plastic or rubber either—it was real metal. Pale moonsteel blue, intricate filigree of gold tracing the breastplate and greaves. The cape was weightless but shimmered like dusk. It was breathtaking.

You told yourself you’d try it on just once. For fun.

One piece at a time, the armor slid into place with unnatural precision. Greaves. Gauntlets. Breastplate. Shoulders. As you fastened the final clasp around your neck, you caught your reflection in the mirror—and froze.

It wasn’t just you wearing armor. For a brief second, it wasn’t you at all. The face looking back shimmered with ghostlight. Elegant, proud. Stern eyes beneath a royal helm.

Then the mirror cracked.

Not from pressure or impact—but from something else. A silver vein spread across its surface like lightning in reverse. The room pulsed. Your vision blurred, edges bending inward like a collapsing star.

And the world broke.

Light filled your vision—not warm, not blinding, but lunar. Cold, steady, beautiful. When it faded, you stood not in your apartment, but beneath a sky of fractured stars, a castle of ivory ruins sprawled before you. The air was thick with ash and grace. You weren’t in your world anymore.

Your hands felt strange—longer, graceful, but heavy with power. You looked down and saw not imitation, but true armor, every curve etched with age and history. The sword at your side thrummed, whispering of battles fought and duties never fulfilled.

A voice echoed inside your head.

“So long since I’ve stood upon this earth... But you... you are not me.”

It wasn’t hostile. It wasn’t even angry. Just… curious. Regal.

You staggered forward, unsure of what part of this was dream, delusion, or destiny. The castle loomed behind you, and the hills stretched far ahead, littered with ruins and mist. The world felt familiar, in the way that a book you’ve read but never lived might feel—like being inside a memory.

The voice spoke again, softer this time.

“You wear my armor. My blade rests in your hand. Yet you carry no burden of my vows. Are you... merely a thief of fate? Or something more?”

You tried to speak aloud, but no sound escaped your lips—only a ripple of magic that shimmered briefly around your chestplate.

“No words... then let your actions speak. Walk this path. Let us see what you make of my legacy.”

A direction unfolded within your thoughts—not commands, but memories. A field of spectral lilies blooming in the shadow of a forgotten keep. A weeping tree where spirits once knelt in silence. A battlefield drowned in silver moonlight.

You could sense her there. Rellana. Not possessing you, but present. A soul embedded in the armor, faded but watchful. She was not gone.

And now, neither were you.

You took your first step into the Lands Between—not as a Tarnished, not as a stranger—but as the echo of a royal blade reborn. And somewhere deep within, Rellana walked beside you. Not just as a guide, but something more. A presence. A bond. One that would change the both of you forever.