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My 99 Regressions Novel Cover

My 99 Regressions

Trapped in a cycle of ninety-nine lives, the protagonist’s doom always begins with an injured man named Tristan Price. Whether she saves him, abandons him, or seeks help, her family is invariably slaughtered. Guided by her brother’s frantic warnings and strange floating messages, she has exhausted every choice. Now, facing her hundredth regression, she prepares to embrace death, only to notice a startling change in the mysterious chat overlay that has governed her many tragic fate.
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Chapter 2

"Tristan!"

Selena burst through the door in a panic, then stopped dead when she saw Tristan unconscious on the bed.

Her eyes snapped to me.

"What happened to him? Did you do this?"

I held up the bone whistle.

"He was hurt and lying on the side of the road. I'm the one who saved him." I paused. "And I'm the one who called all of you here."

She lunged for the whistle. I stepped aside and let her grab at nothing.

"How do you even know what that does? Give it back. You're a commoner. You have no business touching anything that belongs to Tristan."

I knew what the whistle did because in another lifetime, Tristan had told me himself.

By that point, I'd already regressed forty-seven times, and each life had lasted a little longer than the one before. He'd said he wanted to repay me for saving him, so he'd brought me to his estate and announced to everyone that he intended to make me his consort.

Gold and jewels had poured into my room like water. He'd walked me through every corner of the estate and introduced me to each member of his household staff by name. Then he'd given me the bone whistle and told me it would summon his private guards and keep me safe.

All of the capital had praised him for it. His reputation had never been higher, and every noble girl who wanted to marry him had learned to hate me for it.

One day, I'd gone up to the mountain to pray for him at the shrine. Selena had ambushed me on the way. By the time she was done, I was pinned to a rack, my body covered in cuts and welts from her instruments.

The comments had scrolled across my vision and given me something to hold onto.

[Just hold on a little longer. You already blew the whistle. He'll hear it and rush over to save you.]

[I've been waiting for this scene forever! He's going to drop in out of nowhere, scoop her up with one arm, and make that awful woman pay. I can't wait!]

I held on for a long time that day, long enough that I'd nearly bled out completely.

Tristan never came.

When I regressed again, I set down the medicine bowl and yanked the bone whistle from his neck before I'd even caught my breath. The sound rang out, familiar and sharp, and his people arrived within two hours.

That was when I finally understood. It wasn't a problem with the whistle.

In his hands, it was protection. In mine, it was a death sentence. The more affection Tristan showed me in front of others, the faster I died, and the worse it was each time.

But he owed me his life. So why did he hate me so much?

Caleb's voice cut through my thoughts. 'Natalie, tell Selena you stole the whistle. Let her have us arrested for theft. It's the only way we stay alive longer.'

I came back to the present. The comments were still rolling.

[Aren't you the Divine Healer's apprentice? Wake him up already! Once he's on his feet he'll have your back, and he'll make that horrible woman answer for everything she's done!]

As if in response to the commenters' will, Tristan stirred on the bed and opened his eyes.

The head guard, Adam Carter, dropped to his knees.

"Master."

Tristan turned his head and looked at me. He raised one weak finger in my direction.

"She knows medicine. Bring her."

Then he was out again.

I stood there for a moment, genuinely caught off guard.

In every single one of my previous lives, Tristan had gotten to safety first and sent for me afterward. Not once had he ever asked me to come with him directly.

Would I finally escape death in this life?

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