I leaned forward, my voice barely audible. 

"Are you telling me... the human realm is not the only world here?"

Zoey's eyes darted to the shadows in the corners of the room. She hunched her shoulders and drew closer, her silk sleeve brushing against mine. 

"Yes, my lady," she whispered, her breath warmed against my ear. 

"We are not alone. Ancient scrolls speak of realms beyond our own, of creatures with eyes like dying stars and skin that shimmers like mother-of-pearl in moonlight. My ancestors passed down warnings through generations—never speak their names aloud, never seek their hidden paths."     

Her fingers trembled as she traced protective symbols in the air.

Nina nodded, her weathered face grave beneath her black hair. 

"My grandmother would only speak of such things during thunderstorms, when the noise might drown her words from listening ears. The immortals of the heaven realm may walk among us with blessing, but the others..."  

She clutched the jade pendant at her throat. 

"Those who harbor forbidden magic are condemned to watch their souls unravel like smoke in the wind. And humans who seek them face worse—their bloodlines cursed for seven generations."

I forced a laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears. 

"Surely these are just tales to frighten children."   I said.

"My lady,"  Nina's voice cracked as she rolled up her sleeve, revealing a twisted scar that spiraled up her forearm like a serpent. 

"My cousin once attempted a spell learned from a traveler with eyes too green to be human. His body..." She swallowed hard. 

"It burst from within, like overripe fruit dropped from great height."

My stomach clenched yet I was still skeptical. "Then how many realms exist beyond our own?"

Nina's eyes filled with tears as she bowed her head. 

"We dare not count them, my lady. We dare not even wonder. We only know that heaven' s light keeps the darkness at bay—but only if we do not invite it in."

Zoey's voice dropped to a whisper, her amber eyes darting nervously to the hedges.

"My lady, sometimes, knowing too much can lead us into dangerous waters. Humans are meant to live simply, like flowers that never question the sun. Some knowledge isn't meant for mortal minds."

I traced my finger along a velvet petal. "But what about those born with curiosity burning in their veins?"

"My lady," Zoey sighed, her brown-embroidered sleeves catching the dappled sunlight, 

"History is littered with such souls. Their endings are written in ash and tears. They never heed the warnings whispered by the wind..."

Nina nodded, her porcelain face solemn beneath her lace cap. 

"The evidence is everywhere - in tattered scrolls and whispered tales. We mortals cannot comprehend what lies beyond our realm. The divine architect has drawn boundaries we cannot cross."

Fascinating. This world shimmered with rules so different from the concrete certainties of this world.

" My lady," Zoey's voice breaked my reverie, her gloved hand hovering near my elbow, 

"How are you feeling? Shall we continue our stroll before returning to the manor?"

"I' m quite well." I turned, my dress rustling against the dewy grass as I brushed my fingertips across a cluster of star-shaped blossoms. 

"This world is peculiar... but  anyway this garden is exquisite." 

Nina's laughter tinkled like wind chimes.  "My lady, your memory may be returning. Even now, you're admiring flowers with that same dreamy expression you've always had."  Her smile crinkled the corners of her eyes.

I whirled around, my silk skirts rustling against the marble floor. "What do you mean by that, Nina?"  

The morning sunlight caught in her dark hair as she leans forward.

" I mean..." Nina's eyes crinkled at the corners, " If you don' t remember, my lady, you've always questioned everything around you. Sometimes you'd even stare at the garden birds for hours, wondering if they understood our conversations!" 

Her voice carried the warmth of old memories. Zoey adjusted the silver bracelet on her wrist. 

"They say curious people aren' t silly - they're imaginative, creative, and quite brilliant." Her smile revealed a dimple in her left cheek.

"But you just warned me not to be too curious," I replied with a smirk. Their laughter filled the garden atmosphere.

"I didn' t mean to nag you, my lady." Zoey's eyes softened. 

"I only want what's best for you."

Nina's fingers brushed my arm gently.

"She's been cautioning you like this since you were knee-high, my lady." Her giggle sounded like bubbling spring water.

" Really?" I tilted my head, trying to recall.

" Yes!" Their synchronized laughter created a moment of perfect harmony between us.

We shared a comfortable silence afterward, the kind that existed only between old friends. But beneath my smile, my curiosity only grew stronger, like a vine seeking sunlight.

This real Athene is exactly like me. Curious. Solitude. I wonder if she is my past self before I evolve?

This whole morning, Zoey lectured me on courtier law, her voice crisped as she demonstrated the proper way to fold my hands in my lap - thumbs crossed, never fidgeting. She walked me through basic mannerisms, showing how a lady's spine should remain straight as a newly forged sword while her neck curves like a swan's. The etiquette lessons covered everything from the delicate art of gliding across marble floors without a sound to the precise angle at which one should tilt a teacup. 

Remarkably, I mastered these intricate rules before noon, my body remembering a grace I've carried since my earthly days, while Nina painted vivid pictures of Athene' s childhood with her soft, reminiscent voice.

Athene, it seems, grew up in a gilded cage of isolation not unlike my own. Nina described how she would spend hours with paintbrushes, creating landscapes of places she'd never seen, her fingers stained with blues and greens. She devoured leather-bound books by candlelight until dawn, and practiced dance steps alone in empty ballrooms. Unlike her sisters with their nimble fingers, she struggled with Emberoe—that strange stringed instrument whose melodies haunt these halls.

Despite sharing blood with three sisters, Athene preferred solitude's embrace. While her siblings adorned themselves in jewel-toned silks for grand soirées, Athene would curl like a cat in the window seat of the library, losing herself in yellowed pages of ancient tales. She crafted her own universe between those walls, separate from the sisterly bonds I had imagined.

Now, seated in the dining hall beneath a crystal chandelier that fractures light into rainbow patterns across damask tablecloths, I awaited my lunch. 

The silver gleamed against deep blue napery, each piece arranged with mathematical precision - soup spoon above the plate, fish fork to the left, meat knife to the right. 

The servants moved like silent shadows, appearing precisely when needed. I found comfort in this choreography of cutlery and courtesy, so different from the casual chaos of my former world. 

When I lifted my water goblet, holding it by its delicate stem, I caught my reflection on the polished surface—a princess from a storybook, exactly as I always imagined myself to be.