The Princess and the Star

A Past Life Beneath the Sea

When asked what she could perceive, my client described standing beneath a brilliant night sky. Shooting stars danced above her, singing songs and putting on a show she felt was meant just for her. “It feels like another world,” she said softly, her voice almost in awe.

Her body felt different, she explained—opal skin that shimmered like moonlight, long webbed fingers and toes, no hair, and a soft, smooth texture like the underside of fish skin. “I feel feminine,” she said, though there was no clear sign of gender in this form. Alone and content, she described how this nightly ritual of stargazing brought her peace in contrast to the constant demands of those around her. “I don’t like people always touching me, telling me who I should be. I just want to be free.”

Her name in this life was Alaria, a young princess of an underwater realm. Her mother was distant, her father always away at war, and she found solace in her secret friendship with Verona, a star-being from the sky above. Using a necklace she had stolen, Alaria could call Verona down from the sky to her room for secret sleepovers. “She’s like a giant ball of light. And so funny. We set things on fire so we can sneak out and run into the garden together.”

Alaria felt imprisoned in her palace, expected to live up to her royal status and lead her people. “They try to tell me who I am,” she explained. “I just want to be alone with the stars.” Verona became her confidante and escape from the weight of her duties. Though Verona was from the opposing side of an ongoing war, their bond transcended the conflict. “She’s not meant to be my friend. But I know she’s good. She has a good heart.”

Alaria’s world was vibrant yet stifling. The palace was adorned with mother-of-pearl and gems, shimmering like diamonds inside seashells. Yet to her, it felt more like a prison than a home. The corridors were long and echoing, the servants forbidden to speak to her, and her family cold. “My mother doesn’t like to be touched. My father is always away.”

The Invasion

The peace of her world shattered when their realm was attacked. Alaria recalled bombs, screaming, and chaos as she was pushed into a hiding place by her mother, who then locked the door behind her to protect her. “She sacrificed herself so they couldn’t find me,” Alaria said quietly. “She’s gone.”

Terrified and alone, Alaria tried to summon Verona for help but received no response. As she waited, her thoughts pieced together moments from their friendship. Verona had often convinced her to sneak into the palace armory to play games, learning how their defenses worked. They’d played near the watchtowers too, Verona encouraging her to show all the secret spots. “I thought she just wanted to play… but she learned too much. She told them how to hurt us.” The realization cut deeply, and Alaria’s grief turned to anger.

Desperate to protect her people, she took her father’s armour and used her shapeshifting ability to mimic the form of the guards. Though she was young and frightened, she blew a sacred horn kept locked in her father’s chest, summoning orcas—the kingdom’s protectors.

“They came from all over, flooding the streets and the palace,” she said. But their arrival brought little comfort. Among them was a commanding white orca who told Alaria she must leave with her and prepare to become a queen.

A Price Paid

Dragged away against her will, Alaria was taken to a cold, icy place above the water. It was her first time being on the surface. “The air felt wrong, uncomfortable. My skin turned dull and gray. I was scared.”

The white orca tried to teach Alaria survival, even insisting she eat fish. But Alaria recoiled, horrified. “It was like eating dog food,” she said. “I can’t eat something with eyes.” Their interactions became combative, with Alaria shapeshifting into a seal to escape. Yet she was soon caught and injured in the process.

The white orca revealed that Alaria’s father believed her to be dead and that she was holding Alaria for ransom. “She sent messages across the world, demanding he pay a price.”

In time, Alaria’s father arrived in a storm of fury and power, wielding heat to boil the waters and force the orcas to flee. “He’s ruthless, like a hammerhead shark. But he broke his own rule and made a deal to save me.” The cost was steep: he lost his hand in the process.

The Weight of Betrayal

Though Alaria was rescued, her return home was not joyous. Half of the kingdom was destroyed, and whispers of her perceived betrayal followed her everywhere. “They think Verona’s people learned about our defenses from me. Everyone looks at me with disgust now.”

Her father, ashamed and bitter, arranged for Alaria to be married off to secure alliances. He told her coldly, “If you weren’t my daughter, I would have killed you for being a traitor.”

Confined and guarded, Alaria felt the walls closing in. She tried sneaking out at night, yearning for the stars and her lost friend, but she was guarded day and night. But before the arranged marriage could take place, she made a final, desperate choice. “I jumped from the balcony. It was painful… and I died slowly.”

Lessons of the Soul

As she looked back on her lifetime as Alaria after death, my client reflected with sorrow: “They say I killed myself, but loneliness was killing me the whole time.”

When her guides were called forward, one stepped out—a young fairy named Celestine, who twirled playfully in pink jewels. She explained the lesson of this life: betrayal. “She is afraid of betrayal, but she needs to know that loving and trusting someone doesn’t always mean they’ll hurt you. Even when they do, it doesn’t change the love.”

The fairy’s advice was clear: “She must have more fun, love herself, and remember she is enough on her own.”

This powerful session illuminated a life of beauty, pain, and longing, revealing patterns that still echoed into the client’s present. It was a reminder of the soul’s resilience and the importance of connection—even when trust has been broken.

Bonded

A soul’s story of devotion, unity, and love beyond lifetimes.

Laying cosy and snug on her bed, my beautiful client was able to regress to a lifetime beyond Earth—where she remembered life as a furred, tree-dwelling creature, part of a peaceful and deeply connected community. Her kind lived high among the forest canopy, playing and moving in harmony, held by a strong sense of unity and unconditional love.

Above them soared great bird-like beings with smooth, pale skin. One of them, in particular, caught her heart. The bond between them was instant—soul-deep. They knew one another. They belonged to one another.

Together, they learned to fly, clumsy at first but full of joy, soaring through the skies and watching over the lands and seas. Alongside their tribe, they protected their home—not with fear, but with love and dedication. Every member of the community was valued. Every loss was grieved gently, held by the understanding that all life has its place.

On her final day, after a long and happy life, she and her beloved companion flew out to the sea. For the first time in their lives, they touched the ocean. There was no fear—only trust, peace, and a sense of readiness. Landing softly on the water together, their bodies began to painlessly dissolve as they surrendered fully to the rhythm of the waves. In that moment, they were not dying. They were returning. Their essence drifted into the sea, becoming one with the currents, the light, the pulse of nature itself. Two spirits, reunited not just with one another, but with the great wholeness from which all life comes.

From this place beyond time, the bird-being turned to her, their connection still shining as brightly as ever. With deep love, it spoke: “See you in the next life.”

And they did.

That same soul came back to her—not as a guardian of the skies, but as a tiny, wild bunny named Lucky. An orphan who found her way to a little girl living in a world that often felt harsh and unsafe. In the chaos, Lucky became her safe place. Her companion. Her spark of light.

Lucky never left her side. She stayed through the tears. She sat beside her through the silence. She made her laugh again. In a home filled with fear, this gentle rabbit gave her something nothing else could: unwavering love, the kind that asks for nothing and gives everything. A friend, in the purest, most healing sense of the word.

To have that kind of bond in such a dark time is something beyond luck. It is soul recognition. It is love returning—quietly, tenderly, through the fur of a small rabbit who carried the memory of skies and oceans in her heart.

Later, in the stillness of the place between lives, her spirit guide appeared to help my client understand the lessons from that beautiful lifetime. Her guide presented herself as a loving, motherly energy who wrapped around her like the softest comfort. Her touch felt like being gently caressed by the universe itself, reminding her she has never walked alone.

When asked why this lifetime had come forward, why it mattered so deeply, the guide answered:  “Love doesn’t always come from people.”

Some souls are sent to show us what love truly is.
And sometimes, that love arrives on wings.
Or four small paws.
Or in the eyes of a bunny named Lucky.

Some bonds transcend species, time, and even worlds—woven through lifetimes in ways the heart never forgets.