Sometimes yesterday’s echoes became the whispers of today, leading us through a maze of déjà vu.

A female voice whispered in my ear, tugging me out of sleep like a fish on a line. My eyelids felt heavy, my mind sluggish, but the warmth of the sun pressing against my face forced me to stir. Sunlight streamed through the window, slicing across the room in golden beams. I squinted against the brightness, blinking a few times to clear my vision.

Am I in my bed right now?

My body felt weightless, like I had just drifted there instead of lying down the night before. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my brain catching up to the present moment.

Then, like a shot, I jolted upright. My breath quickened as my eyes darted around, scanning every corner of the room. The familiar scent of lavender hung in the air, grounding me. The soft mattress beneath me, the faint creak of the wooden floor, the dresser piled with books I swore I’d read someday, everything looked just as I’d left it. Normal.

But how? How could everything be so normal?

My hand shot to my chest, fingers pressing against the fabric of my shirt. I braced myself for pain, for torn flesh, for the unmistakable sting of a blade still lodged in me. But there was nothing. No wound. No blood. Just my steady heartbeat thumping beneath my ribs.

What the hell? Was it all just some twisted dream? Had I imagined Catherine’s rapier running me through? The battle, the shouting, the sting of betrayal. Had none of it been real?

I needed answers.

First, what day was it? Second, where the hell was I supposed to be right now?

I shoved the quilt aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The moment my feet hit the floor, a wave of dizziness made my head swim. I squeezed my eyes shut, gave my head a quick shake, then stood up, wobbling slightly before steadying myself. My body felt fine, better than fine even, but something was off. A gut-deep, nagging wrongness that I can’t shake.

I made my way to the mirror across the room, planting my hands on the dresser as I stared at my reflection. The same hazel eyes stared back at me, my hair as unruly as ever. No paleness, no ghostly aura, nothing to suggest I had been impaled not too long ago. I looked… alive. Completely, impossibly, frustratingly alive.

I pressed my palm to my chest again, harder this time, like I could force the truth out of my own body. No hole. No scar. Nothing.

Hold on a second. Is this what happens when you die? Do you wake up in a place that mattered to you in life?

That would make sense if this were the Royal Rose, my favorite haunt, but my own house? Really? That feels like a cruel joke. If I’m going to spend eternity somewhere, I’d at least want a place with decent ale and wine.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face. Whatever was happening, standing around in my room wouldn’t solve it. I needed to move, to think.

I went through the motions of washing up and getting dressed, my hands working automatically while my brain spun in circles.

Lysander’s attack, Catherine’s blade, the way my body had crumpled to the floor. Every moment kept looping through my mind like a clock stuck ticking on the same second.

By the time I made it downstairs, my nerves were strung tight. The house looked exactly as it always had, which should’ve been reassuring. Instead, it set me even more on edge. The silence of the morning pressed in, thick and unnatural.

Had nothing changed? Or was something huge lurking just outside my notice?

I reached the first floor and stepped into the dining area, where Alfred and Matilda were deep in their routine. Matilda wiped the table in slow, deliberate circles while Alfred stood nearby, speaking to her in a quiet tone. It was such a mundane, everyday sight that, for a second, I almost believed everything was fine.

Then they saw me.

Alfred’s words died in his throat. Matilda’s hand jerked to her mouth. Their eyes widened, their expressions frozen somewhere between horror and disbelief.

They looked at me like I had clawed my way out of a grave.

Which, given the circumstances, I probably had.

“M-Master Alex,” Alfred said, his voice trembling as if he’d just seen a ghost.

What is with this? The same reaction as yesterday morning? Though I decide to play along, I still can’t be sure of the exact words I used.

“What, Alfred?” I took a couple of steps closer.

“Where did you come from?” he asked, still gawking at me.

“My bedroom.”

“At this hour?” His eyes widened further.

Once more, I tried to recall what I had said to him the day before.

Oh, that’s right. I remember now.

“What’s wrong with that?”

Alfred pointed his finger toward the grandfather clock in the corner. It was eight-thirty.

“You never get up this early.”

I felt as if I had been hit by a ton of rocks.

It confirms it now. This is exactly like yesterday morning. Okay, what’s next? Oh, Alfred will ask about my sword.

Silence. We just stood there staring at each other, waiting for one of us to speak first. I glanced at Matilda and then back at him. Still nothing.

I looked down at my waist where my sword should have been. It wasn’t there.

Ah, this time I hadn’t brought it with me. Should I go back to my bedroom and get it?

But Alfred’s voice cut off my retreating thoughts.

“Master Alex? Is there anything you want to ask me?”

I squinted at him. “Umm… Just get me something to eat, and no rush this time.”

“Understood, Master Alex.” Alfred looked at Matilda. She shrugged her shoulders. Her expression was one of bewilderment, and I couldn’t blame her. I was just as puzzled by my own behavior.

I sat down at the dining table, but my thoughts tangled like a bowl of soup overloaded with ingredients, all tossed in at random and none willing to settle.

Did I travel back in time? If so, what was the trigger?

Had something, or someone, pulled me into this loop, or was I responsible for it in some way? And why was I the only one who seemed to notice?

The idea gnawed at me, sitting right there on the edge of my mind but refusing to take shape. If today was supposed to be a repeat of yesterday, then why had I forgotten my sword? That didn’t make sense. Had I made a different choice without realizing it, or was it just a gap in my memory? Every time I felt close to understanding, the answer slipped through my fingers like grains of sand in a rushing tide.

My gaze drifted down to the floor near me, scanning it almost instinctively.

Was I looking for something? A clue, maybe? The thought came before I even had time to process it.

Wait… why did I feel like I had lost something?

My eyes flicked back and forth across the polished marble, my mind racing to connect the dots. Then, like a jolt of lightning, realization struck. My breath caught, and my eyes widened like a toddler watching their favorite toy disappear into thin air.

“Jitters!” I blurted, the name hitting me like a slap across the face.

The stray. My meeting with him was supposed to happen later this morning. Yesterday—if that’s even the right word, I had met him in the alleyway near the Chosen One bar. Was it going to happen again today? Would he be there, lounging on top of the trash can like nothing had changed?

There was only one way to find out. If today was truly repeating itself, then I had to verify it firsthand. If I could confirm that everything was unfolding the same way, then maybe I could start figuring out the rules of whatever this mess was. And if things weren’t the same… well, that raised even more questions.

By the time the clock struck nine, I had finished breakfast, though I barely remembered eating it. My belly felt full, but my mind was still an unsteady storm of questions and half-formed theories. I couldn’t sit around stewing in uncertainty any longer. It was time to move, to act.

I pushed my chair back and stood, heading toward the door with purpose. My hand reached for the doorknob, fingers hovering just inches away when—

BANG!

The door exploded open before I could touch it. A rush of air smacked me in the face as it swung inward with force. My heart jumped into my throat, and every muscle in my body tensed instinctively.

Alistair burst in, his face as red as a beetroot. “Alex, you numbskull! You didn’t wait for me yesterday!” he bellowed.

Another shock.

Before I could even think, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him.

My brother was still alive. The memory of finding him dead beside Aeryn flashed through my mind. The rush of relief, of emotion, nearly knocked me over. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold him, to know he was still here.

That means Aeryn is alive as well.

Alistair’s furious tone shifted into something more forgiving, though still confused.

“Hey, Alex, are you crying? Don’t be. I’m not mad at you or anything. But why are you being so sensitive right now?”

A smile, born from pure relief, spread across my face. “I’m just glad to see you, Alistair.”

“Really?” His face lit up with pride and a kind of quiet joy that made my chest tighten. It was clear he felt the same way, even if he couldn’t understand what was really going on.

“Of course, you dork,” I said with a chuckle, my gaze soft as I looked at him. His confused expression only made me laugh harder. He was completely lost.

“Err… so the reason I didn’t wait for you is that Grinwald pulled me off to the training yard for sword practice,” I explained, hoping that line would work again, just like it had yesterday.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he said, nodding. He seemed to buy it, probably because of the unexpected hug and how sincere I’d sounded.

“Right, Alistair. I need to head into town. There’s something important I have to deal with.” I placed a hand on his shoulder and added, “Now move, or I’m gonna knuckle your head.”

I had to stay in character. If I didn’t, he’d start poking around, and next thing I knew, everyone in the house would be gossiping about how I’d turned into some emotional wreck. Couldn’t have that. I had a reputation to keep.

“All right, Alex,” he scurried out of my path.

I watched him step aside, my eyes on him to be certain my façade was one hundred and ten percent in place. It’s okay to be duplicitous with someone you care about when you know it’s for a good reason. Even if that reason happens to be totally baseless.

But just as I turned to leave, I saw something shift in him. He looked like he was about to say more.

I cut him off before he could.

“Err… I was late for the sendoff gathering last night because I got wasted in town,” I said quickly. “And you’re about to tell me that Catherine Lysander is coming over to the estate this afternoon, right?”

“Yeah,” Alistair said slowly, frowning. “But how do you know Catherine is coming? Aiden just told me about it half an hour ago. Alfred doesn’t even know yet, so he couldn’t have told you.” He squinted at me. “Did Aiden stop by and tell you too? But then why would he ask me to pass it on?”

I took a deep breath and threw out the best nonsense I could come up with. “To tell you the truth, Alistair, I can see the future.”

Nice. That line’s gold. Well done, me.

“You’re joking, right?” Alistair gave me a look. “That’s not funny. Just tell me who told you.”

I started walking away, laughing to myself. “Like I said, I can see the future. Think of me like some kind of prophet. A one-day prophet.”

That settled a few things for now.

Time to head into town. If I was getting flashes of what was to come or had been thrown back into the past by some kind of magic, I needed to understand which events mattered and when they turned the tide. That was probably the only shot I had at stopping the disaster heading for my family.