Elara awoke with a singular purpose burning in her chest. The scent of sawdust, oils, and possibilities filled her mind like a dream already halfway real. The two-story storefront was hers now, and it was time to turn it into something more—a sanctuary of scent, elegance, and spirit.
As her mother finalized her resignation at the accounting firm, Elara was already busy reaching out to designers and renovation teams. She wanted the lower floor to house a minimalist yet luxurious boutique—a place where visitors would feel like they were walking into a story told through scent. The upper floor would serve as her private blending room, complete with temperature control, hidden cabinets for her rare ingredients, and a small office nook.
"No harsh lights. I want warm ambiance," she explained to the interior designer through a video call. "Think soft shadows, cream tones, brass accents. Timeless but not cold."
She paced the empty store as workers pulled measurements and sketched on tablets. A builder accidentally dropped a steel rod, and she winced as the clang echoed.
"Sorry, Miss!"
Elara waved it off. "It's fine. Just don't touch the back wall—I have plans for it."
Her phone vibrated.
A message from the Hackers' Alliance.
Client ID: Obsidian-Mirror
Subject: Item Location Request
She opened the email, brows drawing tight as she read. The client wanted her to track the movement of an item believed to have vanished a decade ago. They included coordinates, fragmented auction records, and a single image attached at the end.
A necklace.
The same necklace that lay hidden in the bottom drawer of her vanity.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
Her mother's relic.
No. *Her* relic, now.
She stared at the image, heart clenching. "So that's why you died, Mother… They were after this."
The pain of betrayal flickered across her chest like an old scar reopened. But now wasn't the time to get caught up in revenge or fear.
She tucked the thought away.
Later.
Now was for building.
---
The renovation moved quickly. Elara was a presence—always walking the site, pointing out minute details, offering tea to the workers, explaining how each scent would affect the mood of the room.
"Make that arch wider. The air needs to flow."
"I need a sink there—cold and hot water. Some essential oils are temperamental."
She was wiping down a dusty shelf herself when her hand caught a splintered edge. A sharp sting. Blood.
"Dammit," she hissed, dabbing her finger with a tissue.
It was just a minor cut.
But she felt oddly lightheaded, like something ancient had brushed against her.
---
That night, after a warm meal and a quiet conversation with her mother—who spoke more easily now, her shoulders looser with every hour she no longer spent behind a corporate desk—Elara retired to her room.
She couldn't sleep.
She opened the drawer and took out the necklace.
Gold and old, with a crimson gemstone embedded in the center. It had always looked too ornate to be ordinary.
She stared at it, turning it over, watching how the dim light kissed the edges. Her thoughts wandered as she spoke aloud to herself:
"They killed for this... yet I have no idea what it really is. What were you hiding, Mother?"
Her finger brushed the back of the pendant.
Click.
A small indentation. Just the right size to fit the bead of blood still fresh on her fingertip.
The stone pulsed once.
Then again.
Then a *pull*.
The room shifted. Her breath caught in her chest.
And then—
She was somewhere else.
---
A world bloomed before her eyes.
Not a hallucination, not a vision.
An actual space.
An endless meadow under a lavender sky. Ethereal flowers with translucent petals hummed with life. Trees that glowed faintly. Streams of silver water flowed into a crystalline lake at the center.
In the distance, a spring bubbled with light—the scent of it was unlike anything she had ever known. *Living perfume.*
She took one cautious step forward.
The world responded. Plants rustled despite the still air, as if acknowledging her presence.
There were herbs she recognized from old apothecaries. Others she'd only read about in ancient books—forgotten plants said to have vanished centuries ago.
And others… others that should not exist at all.
She touched a leaf. It pulsed with warmth.
"I've inherited more than just a relic," she whispered. "This… this is a legacy."
She turned slowly, eyes wide in awe.
The blood had unlocked it.
Her blood.
Her birthright.
And suddenly, everything—her betrayal, her transmigration, her rebirth—it all aligned into one blinding truth:
She wasn't here to rebuild
She was here to ascend.