Delfina woke with a gasp. She was sitting in water, and she nearly went under in her thrashing. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she realized it happened again. Again, again, again, always again.

She wanted to weep. She wanted to wail. She wanted to cry and scream and rip her hair from her scalp. Yet again, she was back in this infernal body, and all she could see was blood dripping, her body peeled open like a butterflied chicken. Her own organs pulsing as the moths feasted on them, eating them away to nothing, her heart pumping in her chest as Tinea screamed and screamed and shook.

“If you want me to be the villain, I’ll show you what villain means!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, tears streaking down her face, covered in the blood of her father. It was all over her hands, up her arms, to her elbows, bright red and shining in the light of the lamps. “Is this enough of a villain for you, precious Oracle? Is this enough of a charade for you? Have I finally done what you wanted of me?”

Tinea was regressing, too. That was the only explanation for her murderous rampage, the way that she changed in every lifetime, the way she was different each and every time.

A strangled sob rose up as Delfina’s heart hammered in her chest, and she buried her face in her hands and shook in the water of the bath. She could still see it all. It was clear as day, Tinea, eighteen years old, right before Delfina was going to frame her once again, shaking and furious and so, so deadly. Delfina could only see possibilities. She hadn’t---

The force of her thoughts brought her back to a vision, and she seized up in the bath as the world twisted around her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she choked on her own tongue as she pictured Tinea, riding hard through the forest, bent over the neck of a dapple gray horse as she clung to the reins. Bareback, her skirts flying around it. She was laughing, and Delfina’s gut twisted. Had she regressed yet? Delfina just regressed at random points. She assumed it was the same for Tinea. She watched as a spell materialized before the girl, and the horse reared in terror.

The vision faded, and Delfina gasped as she sank down in the warm bath, her hair floating all around her.

She needed to catalog. Find out how old they both were, look back at Tinea’s life to see how long she’d been here. She needed to look at her much more closely this time. She was doing something wrong, that much was clear. She was doing something entirely wrong. But, what else was she supposed to do?

The plot had to be followed. The plot had to be followed. And she was going to follow it. That was the only way she could go home. Everything had been perfect the first life. She didn’t understand why the first life didn’t send her home. It should have sent her home. Tinea behaved exactly as she should have. Delfina followed the plot exactly. It went exactly as it should have gone.

Something was wrong, but she needed to get back home. She needed to get back home. She had been here in this hellish circle too long. It was never ending. Over and over again, the clock reset the moment Tinea died by execution. Or it reset when Delfina died, as it had been in her last life. It didn’t stop. And she…

A tear dripped into the bath, and she burst into tears. She couldn’t breathe. It was coming out in broken, harsh pants. She could still see her viscera spilling out of her body, staining her dress and ruining her clothes. They had been such fine clothes. The thing that scared her was how calculated Tinea had been before she showed her true nature. She had gone to great lengths to get her father, her brothers, and Delfina in the same room. She had organized a tea party, which she never did in that lifetime. She had invited them to discuss something in the lounge. And then she had unleashed.

She had lost her fucking mind.

And she was regressing, too.

That was all Delfina could focus on. She was regressing, too, and she was… She was…

Pulled apart by horses. Burned at the stake. Poisoned. Whatever fate she had met in the last life. All of that had been remembered, understood, and contextualized, with Delfina as the villain in her story.

Delfina hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone. She wasn’t hurting anyone. She was the only real person here. The rest were characters. Not real. Mirages of people that didn’t exist outside of words on paper. But, the way Tinea had reacted… That real pain, that real corruption, that real malice. The way her eyes were alight, crazed, blazing. Delfina could practically see her heartbeat in them.

She had been… real. And she was regressing, too. She had been so, so real, and Delfina couldn’t understand it. The author had never been able to write women like that. The original Delfina had been a blank slate for the readers to paint themselves on, see themselves in. They hadn’t… they hadn’t been real, visceral like that.

All this over a fight about an ML that didn’t even matter. He was useless, a cheater, and Delfina wouldn’t have been interested in him if this was the real life. It was criminally easy to get a fool like that to fall in love with her.

A hitched sob, and there was a knock on the door.

“Oracle?” the priestess called from behind the door. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Delfina called, and her voice broke. She was not alright. She was not alright at all. “I just had an upsetting vision.”

“May I come in?” the priestess called, and Delfina took a deep breath in. That was Isabella’s voice. She had never really liked Isabella all that much. She sucked up too much to the cardinals. She never had an issue with Delfina, but she was lacking in many ways.

“No, I’m about to get out of the bath,” Delfina called, and stood from the water. It poured down around her, and she stepped onto the floor and grabbed the towel to dry off. Her fresh undergarments and robes were pulled on, and she headed for the door.

Taking a second to gather herself, she pulled it open and faced Isabella, who was staring at her with worry in her eyes.

“Was it a bad one?” Isabella asked, and Delfina pushed past her.

“I’m going to take a nap,” she declared, and headed for her bed. The room here at the temple was at the top of the tower in the east wing, and she was sick of the stairs. She did like the balcony, though. She lived in luxury and comfort, and she should be content with that, but she wasn’t.

She wanted to go home.

Delfina threw the covers aside and crawled into the bed, and Isabell frowned at her.

“You shouldn’t go to bed with your hair wet.”

“We can fix it later,” Delfina murmured and pulled the blankets over her head.

How long had Tinea been here? Why was she regressing, too? It made no sense. Delfina had done everything right. In every lifetime, she had never missed an encounter, a event. She got her shit romance, and she hated it every time, but she endured it. After all, she had some pretty shit boyfriends in the past. She knew how to endure. Adrius was dull, unimaginative, and was really only interesting when he felt like he was doing something wrong. I.e., cheating. When he didn’t have Tinea sinking her claws in, he barely even went through the motions, bothered by the very notion that an illegitimate girl could reject him like this.

In short, he was a lout and a horrible future husband. She thought she might actually kill herself and get it all over with that way if she managed it this time and still didn’t regress. She would never marry the man.

It was… It was horrific. She was so tired of this. This was her own personal living nightmare.

She was too tired to do it again, but she desperately wanted to go home. One more time, she told herself. One more time, she would do this, and if it didn’t work, then she would…

She didn’t know. Do whatever she wanted. This would be the last time she tried, and when she was done with it, she wouldn’t try again.

With a sigh, she curled up in the blankets as Isabella exited the room, closing the door quietly behind herself. She was alone, and she just wanted to sleep. So, sleep she would do. Quietly, peacefully, and she wouldn’t…

She felt a tear leak down her cheek.

She was so tired of this.

….

“The marquis dismissed me over an illegitimate piece of trash,” the woman with the brown ringlets raved as the rain pattered on the ceiling of the carriage. “Honestly, can you believe it? Who does he think he is?”

“Well, dear Amalia, he thinks he’s the Marquis of Inistor, and he’s right,” the pink haired woman cooed, and the brown haired woman, Amalia, turned red in her rage.

“Well, he can’t just dismiss a countess from her position over a few bruises!”

“You… hit his daughter?” the pink haired woman asked after a long, long pause, and Amalia paled.

“Well, I thought it was appropriate. She would have a steep learning curve.”

“Amalia… That’s how his last wife ended up dead. She wouldn’t stop beating his sons, and just like that,” and here she snapped, “a carriage accident. Everyone knows that. It was investigated, but there was no proof.”

Amalia was pale, barely breathing, and there was a sudden crash! The path the carriage was riding out went out from under the wheels of the carriage, and the two horses screamed in terror as they plunged over the edge. Amalia screamed, and---

Delfina woke up with a gasp, shaking in her robes. It never got easier. The cotton in the mouth, the haze in her eyes as they struggled to differentiate between reality and the vision, the pounding in her ears. Countess Amalia Gratia was going to have a carriage accident. Same as in every lifetime, and Delfina wondered if saving a child abuser would exonerate her and finally allow her to go back home.

Probably not, and it was due to happen tonight, likely. Probably within hours. She could feel in her bones the vision in the bath had been from the present, and this was the future. It felt close enough that she couldn’t do anything.

Delfina swung her legs out of the bed and poured herself a glass of magically charmed ice water from the pitcher. She took a big swallow, and then she looked to the balcony. The doors were closed, but the curtains were open. It was evening, and it wasn’t raining here. Amalia was too far away to save. That much was clear.

She wouldn’t save her, she thought and placed the glass on the bedside table. She would just…

Figure it out from here.

With a groan, she flopped back on the bed and stared up at the fabric draped between the posts. It was spring, so she didn’t need to sleep with the curtains shut anymore. It would be winter before she even realized it, and she took a moment to focus in on Tinea.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and every muscle locked in place as she viewed the girl eating a silent dinner at the table with her father and brothers. So, she still wasn’t talking to them. That was nothing new. She never spoke to them, and none of them ever seemed to mind. She watched as Tinea cut a piece of steak off of her plate and took a delicate bite, and then her eyes rolled back down.

Perfect. Tinea had always been perfect. And it was frustrating, because no matter how hard Delfina tried, she could never get the hang of perfection. Tinea was wonderful, really. Delfina had always admired her, and that’s what made killing her all the more difficult. It was a difficult situation to be put in. Tinea was beautiful, too. She was a pretty child now, but Delfina knew what she would grow up to look like, and she knew she would be stunning in a few years.

With a sigh, she got up, and then she laid down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling.

She couldn’t do this.

She was tired.

Oh, she was so, so tired.