Y/n moves through life with a quiet, unsettling calm, a small and striking young woman barely five feet tall, her short shoulder length black curls framing a pale flawless face, her bright amber eyes almost unnatural in their intensity as if they see more than they should, beneath her clothes she hides burn scars that trace along her skin and a few tattoos that carry meanings she never shares, she exists in the twenty first century working in a hospital trauma center surrounded by chaos and pain yet untouched by it, her detached nature making her seem cold, almost inhuman, as if nothing truly reaches her, after a long shift she wanders into an antique shop without purpose, the air thick with dust and age as if time itself lingers there, her attention settles on a small wooden chest worn and dark, something about it feels deliberate, like it has been waiting, she buys it without hesitation and takes it home, placing it on her table and opening it with quiet curiosity to reveal an old fragile book, its pages yellowed and cracked with time, the moment she touches it something feels off, subtle but wrong, yet she opens it anyway and reads the first line aloud in a flat tone, whoever reads this will find their true love, the words feel almost mocking to her and she dismisses them as meaningless, nothing more than a cheap promise from an old romance novel, she closes it and tosses it aside without another thought, continuing her routine as if nothing has changed, she showers, dresses in long black dress that cover her neck that’s long sleeve that makes her already small frame look even smaller, slipping on her black laced up boots before cooking dinner, everything normal, controlled, predictable, until it isn’t, as she eats a strange heaviness settles into her body, her vision blurring slightly as the room begins to tilt, the dizziness comes fast and unnatural, stronger than anything she has felt before, she stands to get water but the world spins violently around her, h