A massive thirty-foot door stood before them — forged from the hardest magical metal known to the world: Adamantine.
Before this legendary artifact from an age long lost stood a group of the Empire's guards, surrounding a line of prisoners clad in rags.
Scorn of the Empire.
Filth beyond redemption.
That was the identity of these prisoners, condemned to serve a lifetime inside the infamous prison known as Tartarus.
A middle-aged officer with a trimmed moustache pulled a scroll from his side and read in a hoarse voice,
"Seraphina Vaelthorn, step forward."
Seraphina Vaelthorn.
That was my name.
Or rather… it used to be.
"Seraphina Vaelthorn! I said step forward!"
His voice grew louder, making the other prisoners shudder — all except me.
Seeing my indifference, the officer's expression darkened. Taking heavy steps forward, he pushed through the crowd of prisoners and stopped right in front of me.
He had sharp green eyes — a trait of his unique bloodline.
"Have you gone deaf, Seraphina Vaelthorn?"
His tone was surprisingly calm for someone who'd been shouting like a mad dog moments ago.
But it didn't matter.
Without hesitation, I turned my head away, unwilling to look at the lapdog of that bastard.
Then, without warning, a rough hand seized my chin and forced me to face him.
Instantly, a pair of green, eerily glowing eyes filled my vision.
"Seraphina Vaelthorn… you bitch. Did you not hear when I called your name?"
His voice trembled with rage.
"Now give me one reason for your insolence, Seraphina Vaelt—"
Unwilling to endure another second, I interrupted him.
"It's Seraphina."
My sudden words made the officer blink in confusion.
"...What?"
"My name is just Seraphina."
Silence fell over the courtyard.
No one spoke.
Then—
The officer grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my face into the desert sand.
"Your name? You think that matters?"
My face was shoved deeper into the sand as his hoarse voice burned in my ears.
"A filthy traitor. That's all you are."
My fists clenched tightly; my nails dug into my dry skin.
With a rough yank, the officer pulled me back to my feet.
At that moment, the first rays of dawn broke across the horizon, casting light upon a young woman with matted blond hair and eyes as clear as crystal blue.
Seraphina Vaelthorn.
The eldest daughter of the Empire's most powerful duke — now reduced to rags, looking more like a beggar than a noble.
"Now follow me, Seraphina…" the officer muttered, turning toward the gate of Tartarus.
And since he said my name, I decided to listen.
Dragging my bare feet behind him, I approached the colossal gate.
I wondered how they planned to open it, when the officer drew a purple magic card from his pocket and wrote something across it.
Moments later—
Vrooomm—
Purple runes lit up across the Adamantine gate as it began to creak open, revealing a pitch-black interior.
"Step inside," he ordered.
A sudden shove on my back nearly made me lose my balance.
What is his purpose?
Why had I been called first among all the prisoners?
Why the rush?
Questions without answers filled my mind.
But I received one soon enough.
Stab.
A knife pierced cleanly through my stomach.
Guh—
Fighting the pain, I turned my head to look back.
The officer stared at me coldly, as though at a corpse.
"Duke's orders."
I said nothing as his leg shot forward, kicking me hard in the chest.
I tumbled backward—
down into the endless darkness of Tartarus.
And as I fell, I understood.
The Duke.
My father.
He wanted to make sure I died for good.
My vision blurred from the pain.
I don't know how far I fell, or how long I fell for.
But when I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a cold metal floor—
a small chit clutched in my hand.
In confusion, I lifted it toward my eyes.
It read:
[You can't die now, my lovely villainess princess.]