THE TRANSFORMATION

CHAPTER 2

Back at the apartment, a deep voice echoed, "Welcome, Grace Johnson."

The woman, still in shock, widened her eyes but couldn't see the speaker. All she could see was a bright light. "Who's there?" she croaked. "What's happening to me?"

The voice came back again, this time with a roaring sound that sent chills down her spine. "I am your spirit angel. I have always been with you in your previous life, and now you've been given a second chance at life."

"Second chance?" Grace's voice trembled. "You're my spirit angel? What does that even mean? And where am I?" She winced as a sharp pain shot through her neck.

The light seemed to intensify, surrounding her entirely. "I cannot explain everything, as your mortal mind may not comprehend, but I will tell you this: every day you lived as Grace Johnson poor, overlooked, and from a broken home, you were watched. Your tears, your heartache, your cries for meaning were heard. Because of this, you've been given the chance to choose three benefits for your new life."

Grace paused for a moment. "I only ever wanted to be genuinely loved by my family. I still can't understand why Queen Jonah did this to me. I never asked for Parkston to love me, but he did and that wasn't my fault. I don't hate Queen Jonah, but I need her to feel the pain she caused me."

After taking a deep breath, she asked, "Three benefits? What kind of benefits?"

"You name them, anything you desire and I will grant them," the voice replied. "But beware, Grace. Once your wishes are made, they cannot be undone. Choose carefully, for even a careless word could alter your fate forever. Time is fleeting; you have only two minutes to decide."

"Okay," she responded, panic rising in her chest. She glanced down at her burnt, ruined skin, remembering how her life had been a series of struggles. Her mind raced with memories: her parents, who saw her as a curse; the nights she cried herself to sleep; the moments of fleeting happiness with Parkston, who had been her only solace.

But she knew she couldn't go back. She couldn't cling to a life where Queen Jonah's hatred loomed over her. Revenge burned in her heart. Taking a second glance at her charred skin, she whispered, "I just things to change for the better. First, I want to be extremely wealthy—royalty wealthy. Second…" She hesitated, wincing as her fingers brushed a burnt patch of skin. "I want to have enough masculinity and strength to fight anyone who wrongs me but still be the most beaut.."

The voice interrupted, cutting her off. "Your time is up. You hesitated too long."

"No, wait! I haven't finished! Please" Her voice broke, desperate and pleading.

Before she could say another word, the light consumed her. She felt her body being lifted, twisted, reshaped. The pain vanished, replaced by a strange warmth.

When she opened her eyes, she wasn't herself anymore. Grace or whoever she was now awoke in a massive bedroom, the likes of which she had only seen in movies. The room exuded wealth: the gold floors shimmered, and red and gold crystals glittered along the walls. She gasped, sitting up on the silk-draped bed, amazed at the transformation.

Her reflection caught her eye. Across the room stood an ornate mirror, its jeweled frame sparkling in the sunlight. She rose cautiously, her movements heavy and unfamiliar.

When she reached the mirror, she froze.

A man stared back at her. Broad shoulders. A chiseled jaw. Piercing dark eyes. Her hands trembled as they moved to touch her or rather, his face. The reflection mirrored every movement.

"No!," she whispered, her voice trembling. The sound startled her, a deep, unfamiliar baritone. "This can't be real." She stared at her reflection in disbelief. "I was a broken woman with burnt skin, and now I'm a man. A man with abs!!?"

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. A man in uniform entered, bowing deeply. "Good day, Prince Quicke. The royal executives await your presence."

"Prince?" Grace or Quicke stammered, her voice coming out as a deep rumble. On hearing it, she stumbled backward, shaking her head. "No. This isn't me. I'm not…" Her voice trailed off as her hands brushed against her chest. The muscular form aligned perfectly with her reflection.

The guard hesitated. "Your Highness, shall I cancel the meeting? You seem unwell and may need rest after yesterday's events."

"Leave me," she barked instinctively, surprised at the authority in her tone.

As the door closed, she turned back to the mirror. Her hands shook as they reached for the waistband of the trousers she wore. Slowly, she pulled them down. Her breath hitched as she confirmed the truth.

She stumbled back, gripping the bedspread for support. "I'm a man," she whispered, her voice hollow. "I'm a prince. I'm Quicke."

Instantly she had mixed feelings of hope and regret and just didn't know how worse this could get.