Light.

  The room was flooded with it when I opened my eyes. I gazed up at a white plaster ceiling, then let my gaze slip down to a painted wall, and a wooden floor. At the other end of the room was a polished wooden table with four chairs around it. It glowed an odd combination of yellow and blue from the sunlight flowing through the window.

  I heard someone muttering to my left and looked over to see a woman in a white robe sitting on the edge of her bed. I pulled myself to a sitting position and stared at her. She was eerily familiar, and then I realized that I'd seen her in the images that were shown to us earlier.

  "Hello," I said.

  "Who are you?" she answered.

  "Kate?" I said.

  She stared at me uncomprehendingly and then slowly shook her head. “Charlie.”

  I stared down at my wrists, then at my legs. They belonged to a stranger. I lifted a hand and opened and closed my fist, muscles bulging in my forearm. I slowly raised myself to my feet and looked around the room. On the far wall hung a full-length mirror. I walked over to stare at it.

  The figure looking back at me was unrecognizable. In Toronto, I'd been your average, out-of-shape academic: slight, somewhat pudgy, and with unremarkable features.

  Now I stared at a stranger. I stood almost two metres in height, with clearly defined muscles, a slim waist, and eyes as black as coal. My hair was dark and cut short. My reflection glared back at me. Everything felt off. My head was too far off the ground, and I swayed slightly as I tried to adjust to my new body.

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  In the mirror, I saw the woman walk up behind me. She tapped on my shoulder. I moved out of the way and stumbled as my feet tangled together. Kate raised her eyebrows and then stared at herself. She turned her head from side to side, and lifted an arm up to shoulder level, then let it fall.

  She was gorgeous. Her silver hair cascaded down her back and was caught with a simple clasp in the back. Her eyes were slightly oval and the irises were amber. Her breasts were full and through the thin shift she was wearing, I could see the darker tint of her nipples. Her hips were full.

  "Goddamn, this sucks,” she said, "I look like someone's idea of a Disney princess."

  “How do you think I feel?” I said, “I look like the bastard love child of Conan and a Ken doll.”

  She shook her head and turned away from the mirror. "Charlie," she said, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this."

  “What, specifically?”

  “Where are the original owners of these bodies?”

  I stared at her and felt a surge of nausea. I closed my eyes and tried to think for a second. Something was off in the way that she spoke. With a start, I realized that the language was unfamiliar. I opened my eyes and looked at her once more.

  "What did you say you looked like?"

  She scowled, "A Disney princess."

  I focused on our words. In my mind, the phrase itself was translated as: ‘a pampered actress’.

  “You realize,” I said, "that we’re not speaking English."

  Her mouth opened and she stared at me, then closed it again without speaking.

  The door to the room opened. The robed woman entered, followed by a man who was almost as tall as I was. He was wearing a cuirass of light leather, and the hilt of a sword jutted out behind his left shoulder. His hair was reddish in the light through the window.

  I felt Kate tense beside me, and she moved slightly away and dropped into a crouch.

  The woman held up her hands. "We need to talk," she said.