The crash was a symphony of violence that ended in a terrifying, sudden silence. I was suspended in a void of white mist, my mind still racing with the image of the macaroons scattered like broken seashells on the pavement.
Then, the mist began to take shape. Six figures loomed out of the haze, radiating a power that made my skin prickle. They weren't just shadows; they were the foundations of everything.
"She's awake," a voice murmured. It sounded like the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock. A man stepped forward, his eyes shifting like sand in an hourglass. "I am Time, Zinnia. I see the 'before' and the 'after' of your soul. You have a spark that doesn't belong in the dark, so I'm offering you a trade: the ability to see a master at work and mirror them. Any job, any skill—one look, and it is yours."
A woman with hair made of ivy and eyes like morning dew stepped beside him, reaching out to touch my cheek. "And I am Life," she whispered, and I felt the warmth of a thousand summers. "You love the world too much to leave it. I grant you the All-Tongue. From the smallest spider in the corner to the ancient trees of the forest, you will hear their voices, and they will hear yours."
A spark of blue electricity jumped between the fingers of a figure draped in shimmering, starlight robes. "I am Magic," he said, his voice a crackling grin. "I know the stories you tuck under your pillow. I'm weaving the laws of the Wizarding World into your very blood. Charms, transfiguration, the hum of a wand—it's no longer fiction, Zizi. It's your birthright."
"You're going to need a place to put all that creative energy," a sturdy figure interjected, leaning against the void as if it were a solid wall. "I am Fate. I'm giving you a Void Vault—infinite storage that moves with you. And because I like your spirit, I'm giving you a 'Grace Year.' One year to stay here, invisible, to hoard every tool, fabric, and ingredient you'll ever need before you move on."
"And I," whispered a voice that should have been terrifying but felt like a velvet blanket, "am Death." A pale, elegant figure stepped out from behind the others. "My gift is the most vital for a mother. I will not let the tides of rebirth wash you away. You will keep your mind. You will keep your heart. You will remember every face you've loved and every piece of art you've ever made."
I stood there, a mother and an inventor, feeling the weight of their gifts settling into my soul. The white mist started to fade, replaced by the familiar walls of my studio, though I felt light as air.
"Go on then, Zinnia," Time's voice echoed as they began to vanish. "The clock is starting. You have 365 days to pack your world. Don't waste a second."
I looked down at my hands. I was a ghost with the power of a god and the shopping list of a lifetime. I didn't even stop to catch my breath. I had a year to loot the planet for the sake of my next life.
I walked toward my workbench. If I'm going to be a master of magic and craft, I need the right foundation. Should I start by raiding the world's most exclusive textile mills, or do I head for the high-end laboratories to snag the equipment I could never afford?