The iron chains bit into her wrists as the cold wind howled through the courtyard of Timberland Palace. Blood trickled down her arms, staining the once-pristine white of her ceremonial robes. The people—her people—gathered around the execution square, faces twisted in disgust, rage… and betrayal.
At the center of it all knelt Queen Melissa Timberlake, once hailed as the Hero of the Timber Wars, now condemned as a traitor.
She searched the crowd for a familiar face. Her younger sister, Clarisse, stood among the nobles—expression cold, unmoved. The High Council, the knights she had trained with, the mages she had led into battle—all watched silently.
And then he stepped forward.
The so-called hero.
Lucien Thorne. The one who had once fought beside her, sworn to protect her. The man she had loved… and the man who had betrayed her.
He stood tall in golden armor, a symbol of purity, justice, and honor. The crowd cheered his name.
"Lucien! Lucien! The true hero!"
Melissa's jaw tightened. "You lied," she whispered, too softly for anyone to hear. "You lied and they believed you."
Lucien looked down at her, pity in his eyes. "You brought this on yourself, Melissa."
The High Priest raised the Book of Light, reciting the rites of final judgment. Melissa didn't listen. Her heart pounded with something far stronger than fear.
Hatred.
"Any final words?" the priest asked.
The firewood beneath her was already soaked in oil. The torch burned in the executioner's hand.
Melissa lifted her chin. Her voice echoed across the square:
"You call me a traitor. A villain. But I was your shield, your sword, your queen. And you threw me into the fire."
The crowd murmured.
Her eyes locked with Lucien's.
"I curse you. I curse this kingdom. I will return—not as your hero, not as your queen—but as your executioner. You will know me by another name. And when I come back…"
Her voice lowered into a snarl.
"I will not save you."
The flames surged.
Pain tore through her body. Her screams shook the stone walls, but even as her flesh burned, her soul remained unbroken.
And as the fire consumed her, something ancient stirred.
A crack in the void.
A whisper from the gods.
A deal sealed in blood.
Years Later...
Somewhere deep within the shadows of the Nytherra Empire, thunder rolled across the sky. The castle of obsidian and bone stood tall against the night.
A young servant girl trembled as she knelt before a throne carved with symbols of death and fate.
The woman who sat upon it wore black velvet, her crimson eyes glowing like dying embers. Her lips curved into a cruel smile.
"What is your name, girl?"
"M-Marianne, Your Majesty…"
The woman rose slowly, her heels echoing on the marble floor.
"You may call me Zeraphine Cruentis. And you may tell the world…"
"The villainess has returned."