Okay, nope. I am heroic.

  I was just saving my sister like the epic, badass older sibling I am, and now... I’m waking up in what can only be described as a medieval fever dream. Seriously. What the hell is this?

  First of all, I don’t know who these people are. And second, I really don’t care. Because all I can focus on is the fact that I’m somehow... a baby.

  You’d think after dying to save my sister and then waking up in this mess, I’d be sobbing. But nope. I’m too busy doing mental gymnastics trying to wrap my head around what’s going on.

  I’m lying on this fancy-ass wooden crib, surrounded by dark wood beams and furniture that looks like it was ripped straight from an RPG dungeon. The walls? Old as hell. The air? Smells like a mix of aged wood and medieval regret. And the best part? I’m tiny. My hands are so small I can barely wrap them around my own fingers.

  “Wait… this can’t be real.”

  I look down at myself, at my tiny baby body—I’m practically swaddled. My hands and feet are all chubby. How is this happening?!

  Oh, no. No, no, no.

  There’s no way I’m living this nightmare.

  A second life as a freaking baby? Are you kidding me? The universe really went that route?

  And just as I’m starting to mentally break down, I look up.

  And holy hell.

  There’s a woman standing over me. Tall, radiant, and... hot as hell.

  I mean, she’s so beautiful I’m genuinely offended. Like, I don’t care if she’s my “mom” now—this woman has been blessed with some kind of goddess status. What am I supposed to do with that? This is some top-tier model material.

  She bends down, looking at me with that soft, perfect smile... like she’s been waiting for me to grace her with my presence.

  I’m not sure if she’s a saint, or if she just stepped out of a high-fashion magazine. Either way, I’m pretty sure I’m in a medieval Insta ad.

  And then, there’s the guy.

  Holy hell.

  What the actual hell.

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  This man is built like a wall. His muscles are... outrageous. This guy looks like he could take down a wild boar with his bare hands. His beard is thick and rugged, making him look like some sort of barbarian prince or an overzealous lumberjack.

  His smile? Charming, as if he knows exactly how strong he is, and he’s ready to show it.

  Great. Fantastic. I wake up as a baby, and my new parents are straight-up walking stereotypes of medieval royalty.

  The man’s hands? Huge.

  He picks me up—like, no effort at all.

  Like I’m a stuffed toy. And he’s just looking at me with this smile on his face like I’m the most precious thing in the world. Well, screw that.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  I try to speak, but it comes out as a high-pitched squeak. That’s right. I’m a baby, and my body’s not cooperating.

  But I don’t care.

  In my head, I’m still screaming. Screw this, I’m a grown-ass woman! I should be out there, fighting dragons, not... playing with baby toys.

  The woman smiles down at me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to her. And I’m just over here, internally screaming.

  “What in the world? Am I... like... a pet?!”

  She looks at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, but that only makes me more paranoid. What’s going on here? What’s their game?

  I’m not some innocent little baby doll to coo at. I was just a warrior, goddamnit!

  And then, this giant of a man starts talking to the woman. The language they’re using sounds like a bunch of nonsense, like they’re casting spells or rehearsing for a fantasy play.

  I can’t understand a word, but one thing’s for sure. This isn’t normal. Nothing about this is normal.

  As I lay there, being passed between two giant human beings like I’m the most adorable thing they’ve ever seen, I feel something.

  It hits me like a ton of bricks.

  Holy shit.

  I look down again. My tiny hands. My baby body.

  I’m not dreaming.

  I’m a freaking baby.

  And the worst part? I can’t even enjoy the fact that I was once this badass hero because now, I’m trapped in this stupid, helpless body. I’m freaking small enough to be carried around like an accessory.

  “Okay, universe, I get it. You hate me.”

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Maybe both. But all I can do is stare up at my ridiculously hot new parents as they keep talking to me in their non-existent language. I have no idea what they’re saying, but it sure as hell sounds like I’m the princess of their entire kingdom or something.

  Well, they can keep their medieval kingdom. I’d rather have my own adult body back.

  But then the muscular man—who’s got a smile that makes me uncomfortably aware of how hot he is—looks at me like I’m the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

  “Dude. You’re freaking weird.”

  And then, out of nowhere, I realize...

  I’m totally screwed.

  Great. So now I’m a baby... with a weirdly hot family...

  And I can’t even enjoy it because I’m too busy thinking about how I’m never going to be able to fit into normal clothes again.