The Seventh Life

I sat on the cold wooden floor, María Georgiana's diary trembling in my hands. The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows over the pages. The air in the room felt heavy, like something unseen was watching, waiting.

My heart pounded as I flipped past the first few entries—ones about courtly life, dresses, etiquette lessons—before I reached a passage that made my breath hitch.

March 15th, 1880

"If love were free from duty, I would choose you."

"But love is not free. It is bound by law, by name, by blood. And so, I must leave before it is too late."

"Noachus and I will run away before the full moon rises, before my father forces me into the arms of a man I do not love. If we fail… if we are stopped… then there is only one path left to me."

"I will go to the Red River."

"Where my blood runs free."

My fingers tightened around the book. My stomach churned as I read the words over and over, my pulse drumming in my ears.

The Red River.

She was going to end her life if she didn't escape.

I swallowed hard and turned the page.

March 17th, 1880

"I cannot breathe."

"Noachus was taken."

"I was dragged back to the estate, locked away like a prisoner. My father is to double the guards, to ensure I make it to my wedding without 'incident.' "

"I begged Claire to send him a letter, to tell him I am still fighting, that we must try again."

"But I know what will happen if we do not succeed."

"I know where I must go."

I pressed a hand to my mouth. Oh my God. Today was March 17th! I didn't stopped it!

But María Georgiana wasn't just planning to run. She had already tried.

Just like tonight.

I turned another page, my hands shaking.

March 19st, 1880

"The curse has already begun."

"I do not know when it started, nor how, but I feel it in my bones. My soul is splintering, stretching across time."

"I do not remember writing the words. I only remember waking with ink staining my hands, my gown, my skin. When I read what I had written, I could not breathe."

"I am trapped in a cycle, doomed to return again and again. I have seen glimpses in my dreams—shadows of past lives, of futures yet to come. I die. I wake. And I return."

"This is my seventh life."

"And in my seventh life, I will be born anew."

"I will find my way back."

"I will go back to the past."

"I will find Noachus again."

"And this time, we will be free."

I snapped the book shut, my chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven.

This is my seventh life.

I will return to the past.

I will find Noachus again.

Holy. Shit.

I felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

María Georgiana's words burned behind my eyes. She had lived through this six times before.

She had died six times.

And in this seventh life, she—or I—had come back to change it.

To rewrite fate.

I turned the diary over in my hands, my heartbeat slamming against my ribs.

Was this why I was here?

Had I been sent to finish what María started?

A thought crept in, unbidden, unwelcome.

If I failed—if I didn't change the past—would I die in the Red River too?

I couldn't breathe.

I shot to my feet, pacing the room. This was insane. This was beyond insane.

I ran my fingers through my hair, my mind racing. I wasn't María Georgiana. I was Megan.

I wasn't supposed to fall in love with Noachus.

I wasn't supposed to run away with him.

I was just here to… to what?

To change fate? To stop history from repeating itself?

I clutched the diary to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut.

Okay. Think.

María Georgiana had known she was caught in a cycle. She had known she would be reborn, that she would return to the past in her seventh life.

Which meant…

She knew I was coming.

I slowly turned back to the diary. I flipped to the last page, searching for anything—anything—that could tell me what María had left behind.

At the very bottom of the last entry, there was one final sentence, scrawled in frantic, almost desperate handwriting.

"If you are reading this… if you have come back…"

"You must finish what I could not."

I slammed the diary shut.

The room suddenly felt too small, too suffocating.

I wasn't just here to watch history unfold.

I was here to rewrite it.

To break the cycle.

To save María Georgiana from the fate that had killed her over and over again.

And if I failed?

I pressed a hand against my rapidly beating heart.

Then I would be the one who died in the Red River.

I lifted my gaze to the mirror across the room. My reflection stared back—wild eyes, tangled hair, my breath still shaky.

I wasn't María Georgiana.

But if I didn't figure out how to change the past…

Then history would make me her.

And I would never escape.