Alice's POV
There was no pain at first.
Only silence. A weightless drift in nothing. A hush that swallowed even thought.
Then Alice opened her eyes.
And she was no longer Alice.
She was him again.
Not the war-hardened warrior who'd torn through hell with nothing but a broken blade and bloody conviction.
Not the sword-bearing guardian of noble children, protector of the weak.
No.
She was the boy.
The boy who sat cross-legged on a torn beanbag in a small room on the second floor of a modest suburban house in Seattle, surrounded by shelves of comics and plastic figurines. A fan whirred lazily overhead. Posters lined the walls—X-Men, Batman, Naruto—peeling slightly at the edges, faded but loved.