Chapter 1: Waking Up in Someone Else’s Life

A sharp jolt shot through my chest and I sat up, heart pounding in my ears. My hands—callused and broad just last night—were suddenly too smooth, fingers long and slender. The room was wrong: dull beige walls instead of the old wood paneling of my Boise master suite, sunlight slanting through unfamiliar blinds, dust motes swirling in the air. Somewhere, a digital clock ticked. A faint whiff of antiseptic lingered in the air, and the sheets were stiff, nothing like the soft cotton back home.

"Where’s the Lieutenant Governor?"

"Sir, you are the Lieutenant Governor."

I could’ve sworn Zachary was just at my bedside… Wait—why does my voice sound weird? I stumbled to the bathroom and stared into the mirror.

A stranger’s face stared back—jawline sharp, eyes wide with a mix of nerves and curiosity. I ran a hand over my cheek: baby-smooth, not a trace of stubble. This wasn’t my face. Panic prickled under my skin. Was this a dream? Or had I lost my mind? I flexed my fingers, half-expecting them to vanish.

Warren Sanders always swore Ashan’s medicine could bring back the dead. Maybe it didn’t resurrect—maybe it reincarnated. Was I reborn?

Whatever the answer, I had to figure out who the hell I was now.

"How’s my dad?"

"Your dad passed in White Pine City, sir."

"What about my older brother?"

"He was forced to resign by your dad, sir."

I wiped sweat off my brow. Well, it could be worse.

I reached into my pocket, expecting a handkerchief, but found only a stick of gum and a hotel keycard. I waved off the staff and aides. I needed a minute to breathe, to think.

---

Down at the State Capitol, Senator Gregory Lane was pacing, his usual calm shattered. He couldn’t even twirl his favorite pen.

His footsteps echoed down the historic marble halls, where the scent of burnt coffee drifted from somewhere down the corridor, and a faded portrait of Lincoln glared down from the wall. Normally, Lane would joke with the doorkeepers or fuss with his ancient flip phone—but not today.

Lieutenant Governor Lucas Chandler—preparing for his swearing-in—had suddenly cried out and collapsed, slipping into a coma for three days. Every state doctor was stumped.

Now he was awake, but the reports from staff were unsettling. Apparently, the young man’s mind was foggy, not quite himself.

The late governor had entrusted the orphan in White Pine City to Lane. If something happened to Lucas, how would Lane ever face Governor Zane in the afterlife?

Word was, the Lieutenant Governor was refusing all visitors. Lane was determined: no matter what, he’d see the boy tomorrow…

---

After getting a grip, I grilled my staff until I pieced together the truth. I was Lucas Chandler now.

But I wasn’t about to sit around and coast as Idaho’s golden boy. If I was here, the Carsons up north and the Suttons down south weren’t going to have it easy.

I looked at my new, seventeen-year-old body—felt hope bubbling up. I let out a long, wild howl.

It bounced off the Capitol dome and sent the crows squawking from the windowsills. It felt reckless, a little stupid, but very American. The staff stared, even more freaked out…

I cringed a little, steadied myself, and said, "Tell Senator Lane to get in here."

From now on, I’m Lucas Chandler. Time to meet the legendary senator I’d always wanted to see.

"When do we kick off the Northern Initiative?"

Senator Lane looked at me like I’d grown a second head. Maybe he thought I’d finally lost it.

"How do we even start the Northern Initiative?"

I leaned forward, eyes shining.

Lane cleared his throat. "I get your drive, sir, but now just isn’t the moment. We need to get you sworn in first. The south’s still shaky—your dad just lost at Yellowstone and morale’s shot. Once you’re officially in charge, then we’ll talk about next steps."

"Senator, come over here."

He looked at me, wary and a little curious.

"While I was out, I had these dreams—felt like my ancestors were teaching me how to run a state, even how to plan a battle. So, tell me: if you gave me thirty thousand volunteers…"

Yeah, right. Like ancestors would teach anyone about military formations. Lane’s eyes said he wasn’t buying it, but he looked… moved? Or maybe just worried.

"Initiative? Who says we won’t go? Once you’re sworn in, we’ll go."

I could tell he was just humoring me. I smiled, not pressing. First things first—get myself sworn in.

Lane gathered the legislators, and I got sworn in as governor under the new term "Renaissance."