Fear turned into anger—burning, blinding anger that surged through Lila like wildfire.
Her trembling hands stilled. The nausea faded, not because it was gone, but because her fury eclipsed it. Her golden lashes fluttered open, revealing irises like molten rubies—blazing red, unyielding, and filled with a fury that could topple kings.
"I will not live in fear," she whispered to herself, voice like iron behind silk.
Her reflection in the mirror showed a woman transformed. No longer the pale, frightened girl clutching her stomach—but an empress with a spine of steel and fury in her blood. Her long, blonde hair spilled over her shoulders like threads of gold, catching the light of the imperial chamber like a halo. But the fire in her eyes? That was no holy flame. That was the fury of a mother. Of a woman haunted by lifetimes.
