MILA
Death was not what I expected. I could still feel my heart beating, albeit slowly. The world was not dark, either. I was standing in a vaguely familiar field, the warm breeze tickling my neck and flowers saying at my feet.
Wait. I knew this field from somewhere.
My visions. This is what I had seen every time I had envisioned that medieval version of Felix. But my husband–my lying, traitorous husband–was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a different, female figure approached me. Slowly, the woman came into focus.
I gasped when I saw her. She looked exactly like me, down to the sprinkle of freckles across her nose. The only difference was her slightly curlier hair and her old-fashioned clothing.
She smiled when she saw me, and extended a hand.
“Come, Mila,” she said,
