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  Violetta—once a youth from a world of flickering holograms and humming drones—lay in her cradle, slowly accepting her new reality. Without shock. Without drama. Simply... as a fact.

  This truly is an entirely different world, she thought, inhaling air thick with the scent of woodsmoke, dried herbs, and warm timber.

  No highways bisecting the sky, no advertisements blinding the eyes. Only silence—vivid, deep, almost tactile. But the silence was deceptive: occasionally, sounds crashed into her consciousness like a storm. The scuttle of a mouse beneath the floorboards, the groan of a beam overhead, the distant bark of a dog, footsteps on snow at the far end of the village, even Lukia’s heartbeat—everything bled together, making Violetta’s ears twitch and her mind scramble for quiet. She would close her eyes and turn her head, and the sounds would dim—not because she knew how to stop them, but as if her body itself decided what she needed to hear.

  Her vision, sharp as a blade, sometimes betrayed her. She saw every hairline fracture in a clay bowl, every fiber on a wool blanket, as if her eyes zoomed in against her will. But a single blink, and the details would lose their edge, blurring and leaving her disoriented. Once, while looking at Lukia’s hand, she noticed the faint pores on the skin as if peering through an invisible magnifying glass. A moment later, her vision snapped back to normal, making Violetta shudder.

  What is wrong with me? Why do I see… like this?

  Her new home carried the fragrant aroma of chamomile, sweet clover, freshly baked bread, and a faint, lingering musk of sweat embedded in the walls. The clay hearth at the center of the house provided a sense of familial warmth. Its heat embraced her, and the crackling of logs sounded like the very heart of the home. The ceiling was supported by age-blackened beams, decorated with carved flowers and birds that barely emerged in the dim light. Numerous talismans were fastened to the beams: straw-woven circles, bundles of herbs, and multicolored feathers that shimmered with a faint magical glint. According to Lukia, these warded off not only evil spirits but also parasites from the thatch. Narrow windows, sealed with thick shutters, allowed the frosty breath of winter to linger, but the cold did not touch Violetta; it only tickled her skin. In a corner, a crystal glowed dimly like a lamp—not fire, but something living that flared brighter at a touch, responding to the heat of a hand.

  Near the hearth, "smoketails" warmed themselves—cats larger than average, with bushy tails that released silvery plumes of smoke when they arched their backs. Their eyes, glowing green in the twilight, seemed predatory, as if they were guarding the house from invisible threats. Lukia said the smoketails also warded off evil spirits, but Todyr grumbled that these "beasts will steal the food if you don't watch them." The scent of these pets—a mixture of ash, herbs, and something sharp, like heated metal—would either tickle Violetta’s nose gently or strike so suddenly she would wince, not knowing how to shield herself. Once, a smoketail leapt onto a chest. Its smoke swirled in the air, and Violetta saw every single spark within that glow, as if her vision had zoomed in again without her consent.

  The body was weak—the true body of an infant. Holding her head up for more than a few seconds was exhausting. But the mind… the mind burned with thought. It worked without pause, deconstructing reality into layers, into puzzles that eventually assembled themselves. New words, sounds, gestures—everything was memorized effortlessly, as if an invisible voice whispered answers to her, prompting her on how to connect one thing to another. Within a month, Violetta already understood most household phrases and could even perceive the hidden intonations in Lukia’s voice.

  My mind… it’s sharper than it was. My memory is like crystal—everything is clear, nothing is lost. It’s as if something… is helping me. But what?

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  Violetta didn't notice the first fundamental difference immediately. She was fed—milk and thin herbal decoctions Lukia prepared from chamomile and mint. She ate, sensing the taste, the warmth, even the faint hunger stirring in her belly. But… nothing changed. Her swaddling clothes always remained clean. Always. No scent, no stain. At first, she thought it was a fluke, but as days passed, the diapers Lukia changed with growing alarm remained dry, as if Violetta consumed nothing.

  I don’t need… the bathroom? How is that possible? Does everything I eat just… vanish? Or turn into something else?

  She recalled the taste of the milk—sweetish, with a hint of herbs. The sensation of warmth as it flowed down her throat. But after that—nothing. No discomfort, no need. Her body seemed to absorb everything, converting food not into waste but into energy that hummed quietly inside her, like an invisible generator. It was terrifying and, at the same time, fascinating.

  In my past world, bioengineering created artificial organs, and android bodies could survive on recharging and protein syrup. This would have seemed almost possible there…

  But what is such a perfect body doing in a world without even electricity?

  Lukia noticed it after a few days. She unwrapped the swaddles with increasing anxiety. One evening, when Todyr returned from the mill, she pulled him into a corner, away from the cradle, and whispered, thinking Violetta wouldn't hear. But her acute hearing caught every sound, even the rhythmic pulse of Lukia’s heart triggered by worry.

  "She doesn't... Nothing... Todyr. Do you understand?" Lukia said awkwardly, her voice trembling. "The swaddles are clean. Always! This... this can't be normal."

  Todyr tilted his head, his brow furrowing. "Maybe she just eats too little?" he suggested, though doubt colored his tone.

  "No, she eats like any other child. But... nothing comes out. This is... some kind of miracle. Or a curse." Lukia clasped her hands. Her eyes glittered with dread. "What if she’s sick? Or... not of this world?"

  Violetta lay there, staring at the ceiling. The dim light of the crystal reflected in her violet eyes. She heard everything. And she understood everything. Her body did not require what others did. Food, air, warmth—it all seemed optional. She tried holding her breath—and nothing happened. No pain, no panic reflex. Her lungs remained silent as if they had forgotten what suffocation was. The wind rattled the windows, cold seeped through the cracks, yet her skin did not shiver. It was as if she were designed not for ordinary life, but for survival in an eternal frost. When she pressed her finger against the edge of the cradle—pain flared sharply but died out even faster, suppressed by an invisible force. In her past world, where holograms showed perfect bodies created in labs, she had seen something similar, but only in concepts and the dreams of scientists.

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  This isn't just bioengineering. This is an entirely different level... A body not created by humans.

  Lukia’s anxiety pushed Violetta to an experiment.

  One evening, while the hearth roared and a smoketail purred in the corner, Violetta opened her mouth and cautiously bit her own finger. She expected pain, blood, something human. But nothing. The skin remained smooth, without even a mark, as if she had bitten stone. Pain flared but vanished instantly, just as before. She pressed her finger against the sharp edge of the cradle, hoping for a scratch, but the skin wouldn't yield. Her heart raced—not from fear, but from awe and dread.

  This body… it isn’t so easily damaged. It was built to survive extreme conditions. But by whom? And for what?.. Every day I have more questions that I cannot answer.

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  Her adoptive father, Todyr, had large hands—calloused and rough from work at the mill, but warm as the hearth. Every morning he left for the mill. In the evening he returned dusted with flour and exhausted, but when he saw his foundling daughter kicking her legs in the cradle, a smile immediately broke across his face.

  "Look, Violetta, replaced the plowshare myself today. And tomorrow—maybe I’ll take the flax to trade. Eh?" He spoke to her as if she were an adult.

  Violetta’s memory was flawless. Every sound, scent, and touch was stored in her consciousness with crystal clarity, as if an invisible assistant in her head organized everything to the smallest detail.

  Lukia smelled of chamomile and clover, and of warm bread that felt like part of her warmth. She sang often: while washing dishes, kneading dough, or preparing decoctions. Her hands, when she picked up Violetta, radiated a faint heat, almost as if sparking, but Violetta didn't understand why. And though Lukia, her new mother, sang off-key, she did it so sincerely that it made Violetta’s heart ache with warmth. The scents of the brews—mint, yarrow, and the metallic tang of the water—sometimes became so sharp that Violetta would wince, her nose twitching, not knowing how to cope.

  Marunya—Lukia and Todyr’s daughter—was initially wary. Her gaze searched Violetta for a threat. But the girl soon realized: Violetta was not an enemy, but rather a magical toy. She wove wreaths from straw, placed them on Violetta’s head, smiled dreamily, and told fairy tales. It was from her that Violetta first heard the word "fairy."

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  Lukia had a gift for healing, so the house was often visited by villagers. They came for help: someone had a toothache, another had poisoning or a cough. Lukia turned no one away. Her hands moved confidently as she mixed herbs or applied compresses. But every guest silently, if warily, glanced at Violetta. There was no outright hostility, at least not in the mother’s presence. Violetta’s ears twitched every time she heard their footsteps, and her eyes seemed to look right through Lukia’s patients. The villagers noticed everything: the "miracle child" almost never cried, didn't sweat even when the air in the house grew hot from the roaring stove. Her skin remained dry and odorless, causing the peasants to whisper about a "celestial child." Lukia anxiously adjusted the swaddling several times, checking the diapers. One day, an old grandmother came for a cough remedy and voiced what was on everyone's mind.

  "Maybe… she has some internal ailment?" she suggested, her voice trembling with superstitious dread. "A child who doesn't… well, you know… it isn't human."

  Lukia only pressed her lips together, but her eyes betrayed her worry. Violetta heard it. Her hearing suddenly sharpened, catching the grandmother’s breathing, the crackling of wood, the hiss of a smoketail behind the door. Everything blurred, and she closed her eyes to shut out the sensations of this world.

  Perhaps I am not human. But I am alive… She looked at her small palm and squeezed it. And I am… stronger than they think.

  Weeks passed. Violetta quickly mastered her body. Her movements became more precise; her muscles obeyed faster than those of ordinary infants. First, she learned to roll onto her stomach, then—to crawl. It was interesting. The "exploration" of the house began. A vast, slow, mysterious world opened before her.

  "Marunya! Have you seen Violetta?!" Lukia cried one morning, her voice shaking with alarm.

  "She’s right here, Mama!" Marunya pointed to a bundle crawling toward the window, dragging a wool blanket behind her.

  Crap. Caught!.. Violetta thought, her mind already planning the next "escape."

  She managed to explore the house several times. She touched things she had never seen in her past world: a coarse clay bowl, bundles of herbs that smelled of bitterness and summer, a wooden bench covered in carved patterns. Once, the little explorer even climbed onto a chest and peered through a gap in the shutters, feeling the cold air tickle her face without doing any harm.

  There, outside the window, she first saw the mill—the very one Todyr spoke of almost every day. The windmill’s sails turned slowly, bringing the scent of freshly ground flour.

  Hands scooped her up. It was Marunya. She scolded her—gently, but seriously. "You'll fall, you silly thing… Better play with my doll. Here, in a safe place."

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  Violetta lay in her cradle, sometimes listening to the quiet conversations between Lukia and Todyr. They spoke of the strange find, of the odd tracks in the snow. One evening, as a blizzard howled outside and the house was warm and cozy, she heard Lukia whisper to Todyr:

  "It happened almost on the Night of Ancestors. Remember how we stayed awake then, lighting the lanterns? They say at that time, the souls of the dead come home."

  Todyr sighed. "It was on the eve of the Festival of Lights, Lukia. The deepest winter. If I had found her three days later, we would have considered it a true miracle from the spirits... But even so..."

  Lukia fell silent, kissing Violetta on the forehead. She already understood their words, but not the context hidden behind them. To her, they sounded like something tender and solemn, full of a warmth she had never known before.

  Only later would she learn that she was born on the eve of a solemn holiday—the night when the souls of the dead return to the world of the living to visit their descendants.

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  Time passed. Winter thawed, giving way to spring patches that mingled with the smell of smoke and damp earth. Early one morning, as the wind wailed in the chimney, Lukia gave birth to twins. The boy was named Demko—after his grandfather. The girl—Zlata, because her hair shone like ripe wheat in a field.

  Violetta watched them with interest, a new sensation aching in her chest. This wasn't just a new life… this was a Chance.

  For the first time since her rebirth, she smiled sincerely.

  This world was harsh, full of superstition, danger, and fear. But these people… were good. Simple. Alive. For the first time in a long while, she felt not fear or pain, but something warming inside her. Something real. Kinship. It was a sense of security. The feeling of a true home. Something that enfolds and soothes, making one more confident.

  These few months had been true happiness for Violetta…

  Perhaps this world was a chance to start over?

  Without a world filled with drones and technological innovations, perhaps, but with a loving family…