Raven awoke to sunlight streaming through the grimy window of her servant's quarters, her body tensing with the ingrained reflexes of a warrior before her mind caught up to her circumstances. The automatic response—sharp assessment, quick cataloging of potential threats—belonged to someone who had spent lifetimes on battlefields where dawn could bring either salvation or slaughter.
Still here, she thought, noting the familiar water stains spread across the plaster ceiling like old bruises. Still seventeen. Still wearing this borrowed face.
The silence where Seven-Tee-Nine's presence should have been felt like a missing tooth—a constant, aching absence that her consciousness kept probing. But alongside the grief came something else: purpose crystallized into action.
She was reborn just over a day ago into this life—the first life, the one she had paid ninety-nine existences to reclaim. Funny, really. At that time, vengeance had been her only desire, and she would have paid any price for the chance to return. But the cosmic wheel had taught her that her suffering was merely one thread in a tapestry of countless tragedies. When the thirst for revenge had transformed into something larger—justice—she couldn't say.
If not for that alien presence she'd sensed yesterday, the cosmic wrongness that set her spiritual alarms screaming, she might have simply walked away from all of this. Started fresh somewhere beyond the reach of old names and older wounds. But she carried responsibilities now that transcended personal grievances. Amara and Selene had debts to pay—to Mara Brenner, to little Novara whose light they'd extinguished, to truth itself.
No time for philosophy, Raven told herself, rising from the thin mattress with fluid grace that belonged to her accumulated lifetimes, not her malnourished frame. There was work to be done, and the window for action was narrowing with each passing hour.
The urgency made her skin crawl. In her previous lives, patience had been both weapon and shield—time to study opponents, craft contingencies within contingencies, ensure every move served multiple purposes. Now she felt like she was improvising, dancing on the edge of a blade with no safety net. The sensation was profoundly unsettling.
She moved through her morning routine with economical motions, selecting the least patched outfit from her meager wardrobe. The servant's bathroom down the hall offered only ice-cold water, but she'd endured far worse in the merit worlds. As she dried herself with the rough towel, her reflection in the cracked mirror showed the damage they'd inflicted on this body—scars like accusations, hollow cheeks that spoke of deliberate starvation, the muddy brown of eyes that should have gleamed with celestial fire.
Those damn women. The thought carried a weight of controlled fury that would have made dragons step back. They tried so hard to break what they couldn't understand.
Thank the cosmic forces that had granted her the blood essence beads. Without them, repairing the systematic damage done to this body would have been impossible.
Dressed once more in the gray uniform that marked her as the lowest servant in her own family's household, Raven considered returning to the main house. But the thought of facing Selene and Amara's hypocritical masks this early, of playing their games while her real work waited, made her jaw clench.
Better to avoid unnecessary friction until she was ready.
She slipped away through her established escape route—a gap in the estate's perimeter wall where the morning shadows still provided cover. A thread of soul power, invisible to any observer, confirmed she was undetected before she melted through the opening and into the awakening city beyond.
Ring 6 of the capital was already stirring to life as she made her way through familiar streets. The Middle Industrial District carried the scents of coal smoke and industry, the sounds of a working population beginning another day. Old Lady Wang's house sat like a small island of old-world charm amid the encroaching apartments and factories, its traditional architecture maintained through stubborn generational pride.
As she approached, Raven spotted the familiar figure on the front porch—a small, weathered woman wielding a straw broom against the morning dust. The sight sent an unexpected warmth through her chest, quickly followed by the prickle of tears she refused to shed.
Wang Meiling. One of the few souls in this miserable city who had shown kindness to a starving child without expecting anything in return. Even after learning that Raven was Selene's supposed daughter, the old woman had continued offering work and food, her gruff compassion a lifeline in an ocean of indifference.
"Grandma Wang," Raven called softly, her voice rougher than intended.
The elderly woman looked up, her sharp eyes taking in Raven's appearance with the practiced assessment of someone who had lived through enough hardship to recognize it in others. She was perhaps seventy, her silver hair pulled back in a practical bun, her simple blue cotton dress patched but clean. Her hands, worn smooth by decades of labor, gripped the broom handle with surprising strength.
"Child." The word carried layers of affection and concern. "It's been too long since you visited this old lady." She reached out, capturing Raven's hands before the younger woman could pull away. "Heavens, you look even worse than last time. Those beasts—with all their money, they can't spare you a proper meal."
Raven fought her instinctive urge to retreat from the contact. Physical touch still felt like a trap, a vulnerability to be exploited, but Grandma Wang's callused fingers carried only warmth.
"Come inside," the old woman continued, already turning toward the door. "You're swaying on your feet, child. Food first, then whatever brought you here in such a state."
The interior of the house was exactly as Raven remembered—simple furniture polished by time and care, thread-worn carpets that spoke of modest comfort, the lingering scents of herbs and cooking. It was a home in the truest sense, something she'd never known at Emberhall.
They settled in the kitchen, where Grandma Wang moved with the efficiency of long practice. Soon Raven found herself cradling a warm cup of tea and facing a bowl of porridge that actually smelled like food rather than gruel. The old woman kept up a steady stream of neighborhood gossip while she worked—who had married, who had died, whose business was thriving or failing.
If there was a fault to find in Grandma Wang, Raven thought with something approaching a smile, it was her absolute dedication to knowing everyone's business.
When the immediate hunger was satisfied and the tea had warmed her from within, Raven set down her cup and met the old woman's eyes directly.
"Grandma Wang, I need to speak with you about something serious."
The change in tone brought immediate attention. Grandma Wang settled into her chair, weathered hands folded, sharp eyes focused with the intensity of someone who had survived seven decades by knowing when to listen carefully.
Raven chose her words with precision, explaining her suspicions about her true parentage, the evidence she was gathering, the conversations she had... overheard. She spoke of her plan to invoke the International Child Protection Act, of the need for witnesses who could testify to the abuse she'd endured.
When she finished, silence stretched between them like a held breath.
"Child," Grandma Wang said finally, her voice carrying a weight of years, "do you understand what you're proposing to face? Selene Lin is no ordinary woman. She's a serpent in silk, beautiful and deadly in equal measure."
The old woman's eyes grew distant, focusing on memories that clearly brought pain.
"Let me tell you about my daughter Trina," she continued. "She served as handmaiden to Lady Eveline Marcellus—Edmund's first wife. A political marriage, as they all are among the nobility. Lady Eveline married beneath her station, but the Brenners had gold, which the Marcellus family needed desperately."
Raven listened without interruption as the story unfolded—years of content if not happy marriage, the change that came with pregnancy, the growing fear in Lady Eveline's eyes. Trina had been more sister than servant to her mistress, carrying home tales of strange tensions and growing unease.
"After the child was born, Lady Eveline fell ill," Grandma Wang continued, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Trina was forbidden to see her mistress, but she couldn't bear the separation. She snuck into the Brenner estate one night to check on Lady Eveline."
The old woman's hands trembled slightly as she reached for her tea.
"She came home that night in hysterics. Sobbing, barely coherent. She'd seen Edmund with another woman—kissing, embracing—while his wife lay dying in the very same room. The next day brought news that Lady Eveline had died of birthing complications."
"Trina refused to believe it. She went back to confront Edmund, despite my pleading." Grandma Wang's voice cracked. "Hours passed. When I couldn't wait any longer, I took neighbors with me to demand answers. They told us Trina had taken her own life beside her mistress's body, overcome with grief."
The silence that followed was heavy with implication and old pain.
"When I awoke—I'd fainted from the shock—there was a woman standing beside my bed. Beautiful, concerned, introducing herself as Selene, a dear friend of Lady Eveline. She spoke of her admiration for Trina's loyalty, offered condolences for our loss." Grandma Wang's eyes met Raven's directly. "But the way she looked at me... I knew. I knew she had killed them both. My daughter and her mistress."
"Seventeen years," the old woman continued, her voice hardening. "Seventeen years I've tried to find proof, tried to bring them to justice. All for nothing."
She leaned forward, studying Raven's face with renewed intensity.
"So tell me, child—knowing what you now know about the beasts you'd be facing—do you truly want to take this path? In four years you'll reach majority, be free of their control. Why risk everything now?"
Raven's response was to roll up her sleeves, revealing the network of scars and half-healed welts that covered her arms like a map of systematic cruelty.
"These are nothing compared to what they've done to the rest of me," she said quietly. "I don't have four years, Grandma Wang. At the rate they're escalating, I'll be another unmarked grave long before then." Her voice carried the weight of absolute certainty. "And do you really think Edmund and Selene stopped with Trina and Lady Eveline? How many others have disappeared when they became inconvenient?"
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper.
"Besides, there's something else. Why would Selene poison my eyes?"
Grandma Wang jerked backward as if struck, her tea cup rattling against its saucer.
"No," she breathed. "She wouldn't dare..."
But even as she spoke, Raven could see the terrible understanding dawning in the old woman's eyes. There was only one reason to hide a child's true eye color—only a pureline celestial bloodline would show such unmistakable proof of heritage. The great eight families had guarded that distinctive marking for millennia.
"To steal and corrupt a celestial bloodline..." Grandma Wang's hands shook as the full implications hit her. "That's not just murder, child. That's soul damnation. A crime so profound that death would be a mercy compared to the punishment."
The kitchen fell silent except for the ticking of an old clock and the distant sounds of the waking city. Grandma Wang sat motionless for long minutes, processing revelations that rewrote everything she thought she knew.
Finally, she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.
"If you're certain about this path, child, then these old bones can handle one more fight." Her voice carried the steel that had helped her survive seven decades of hardship. "What do you need from me?"
Raven kept the details of the banquet scheme to herself—some secrets were still too dangerous to share. Instead, she outlined her plan for DNA evidence from the Western Federation Medical Facility, witness testimonies, documented proof of abuse. With an outside authority beyond Eastern Empire control analyzing the evidence, there would be no way to suppress the truth.
"Poison can hide eye color," Raven concluded, "but blood tells the truth no matter how they try to hide it."
The alliance was sealed not with words but with the understanding that passed between two women who had both suffered under Selene's malice. Grandma Wang had waited seventeen years for justice for her daughter. Raven would ensure she finally received it.
As morning light strengthened outside the windows, casting long shadows across the simple kitchen, the first pieces of Raven's larger strategy clicked into place. The hunt for truth was beginning.