Mag-log inBy the time I reached the drawing room, I had already forced my expression into something calm and impenetrable.
Years ago, Vivienne had taught me a painful, expensive lesson: Never let your enemies see what you're thinking.
That lesson had eventually cost me my life.
Sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows as I crossed the threshold. Dust motes drifted lazily through the golden beams, and the comforting scent of fresh jasmine tea lingered in the air.
Vivienne sat gracefully on one of the velvet sofas.
At first glance, she looked precisely as she always had: breathtaking, flawless, and completely harmless. Golden hair cascaded over one shoulder in soft waves, and a pale blue dress hugged her figure with practiced elegance. Her posture was delicate enough to make every noble daughter in the kingdom burn with envy.
In my first life, I had envied her too.
Now, I knew better. A viper coiled beneath a bed of roses was still a viper.
The moment she looked up and spotted me, her face lit up with radiant warmth. "Seraphina!"
The affection in her voice would have fooled almost anyone in the realm.
Almost.
I remembered the execution square. I remembered her subtle, triumphant smile as the guards chained me to the stake. I remembered her standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Kael while the crowds cheered for my death.
The memory hardened my spine into steel.
"Vivienne."
She rose instantly, gliding across the room to wrap her arms around me. The gesture looked effortless and sweet—to an outside observer, we were merely two devoted friends reuniting.
But I felt the underlying tension in her muscles, the subtle, calculating grip of her fingers against my back. It was a performance, carefully calibrated for whoever might be watching.
"My goodness," she said, pulling back to look at me, her hands resting lightly on my arms. "Everyone at court is talking about you."
There it was. Straight to the point. Vivienne never wasted breath on idle pleasantries unless they served a purpose.
"What are they saying?" I asked, keeping my tone mild.
Her smile widened slightly, though it didn't reach her pale blue eyes. "That you were remarkably brave during the attack at the temple. That you saved dozens of lives."
Not genuine relief. Not curiosity. Information gathering. She was measuring how much royal favor and attention I had accidentally bought myself.
"I was simply standing in the right place at the right time," I replied smoothly.
Her gaze searched mine, probing for cracks, hunting for the soft, eager girl who used to seek her approval. "I heard Prince Kael personally pulled you aside afterward."
My pulse hit a sharp rhythm.
So that’s why you’re here. Not out of concern for my safety, but because of Kael.
Even now, years before she officially claimed her place at his side, she was watching his every move, fiercely protective of her investment.
I forced a careless shrug. "It was merely formal questioning. Nothing important."
A flash of cold irritation rippled behind her eyes, gone so quickly a casual onlooker would have missed it entirely. But I caught it.
And suddenly, another piece of the past clicked into place: Vivienne became her most lethal whenever Kael’s attention drifted—even by an inch.
My mother entered the drawing room before the conversation could tip into dangerous territory, a pair of servants trailing behind her with fresh tea and warm pastries. The brief distraction gave me time to gather my thoughts.
Vivienne accepted her porcelain cup with practiced grace, taking a delicate sip before turning her sweetest smile toward my mother. "Aunt Lyra, do you mind if I borrow Seraphina for a short walk through the grounds?"
My stomach dropped. Absolutely not.
Yet refusing her out of nowhere would only raise flags I couldn't afford to wave.
My mother beamed. "Of course, dear. It will do her good to get some fresh air."
Wonderful.
Five minutes later, I found myself walking down the gravel paths of our estate gardens beside the woman who had engineered my execution. Birds chirped in the manicured hedges, and the central fountain splashed rhythmically nearby. The scene was picture-perfect, but every instinct in my body screamed that I was walking through a minefield.
Vivienne remained silent for several long moments.
The quiet unnerved me. She preferred letting others fill uncomfortable silences, letting them babble until they accidentally handed her leverage.
I kept my mouth shut.
"You seem different, Seraphina," she remarked finally, her slippers crunching lightly on the gravel.
"I've been told that a lot recently."
"I'm serious." She stopped, turning to face me with a heavy, searching look. "You used to tell me everything."
Because I used to believe you cared.
I kept the bitter thought locked behind my teeth. "Events like yesterday have a way of forcing people to grow up quickly."
The answer didn't satisfy her—I could tell by the tight line of her jaw—but she forced her soft, friendly mask back into place. "I suppose that's true."
We resumed our pace, heading toward the quiet, secluded eastern edge of the garden. As we approached the tall iron fence bordering the outer woods, a rustle of leaves caught my attention.
A servant stepped out from behind a tall boxwood hedge, carrying a bundle of dry branches.
It shouldn't have been unusual, except I didn't recognize his face.
That was impossible. I knew every groundskeeper, footman, and hand employed on our estate. This man was a complete stranger.
His head remained lowered as he passed us on the narrow path. For a fraction of a second, as he tilted his chin, our eyes locked.
Ice flooded my veins.
Tattooed right behind his left ear was a tiny, jagged mark. Barely visible beneath his hairline, but utterly unmistakable: a crimson dragon coiled around a broken blade.
The world seemed to lose its sound.
The stranger continued walking without breaking stride, his expression completely blank, as if he hadn't just exposed a death sentence.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. No. That can't be.
The Crimson Dragon syndicate shouldn't be operating openly on private noble estates yet. Not this early in the timeline. Not here.
Had they always been infiltrating my family's house without my knowledge? Or had my actions at the temple scrambled the timeline so violently that they were accelerating their deployment?
"Seraphina?"
Vivienne's voice snapped the tension.
I realized I had halted mid-step, my body rigid. "What is it?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she followed my gaze toward the departing servant.
I forced my posture to relax, shaking my head. "Nothing. Just a sudden dizzy spell."
Another lie she clearly didn't buy.
Before she could press the issue, a sudden burst of shouting erupted near the front gate. Heavy, frantic footsteps echoed across the courtyard, followed by the clatter of iron guards' boots.
Vivienne frowned, her delicate composure slipping into annoyance. "What on earth is that noise?"
I turned toward the commotion just as a lathered horse burst through the iron gates, its rider leaning low over the reins. The animal was exhausted, white foam flaking from its bit as the rider yanked it to a harsh stop near the main entrance.
Even from a distance, the crimson and gold cloak was undeniable.
A royal messenger.
The guard captain rushed to the horse's side, catching the rider as he nearly collapsed out of the saddle. "What's happened?"
The messenger gasped for air, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet gardens. "The royal carriage! Prince Kael has been ambushed on the north road!"
The garden fell dead silent.
Vivienne's face drained of all color.
My chest constricted, my pulse roaring in my ears. Ambushed? Again?
That was completely wrong. Kael was never attacked on the north road in my previous life.
The messenger swallowed hard, clutching his side. "The attackers... they used black fire. The prince's guard is holding, but the road is cut off!"
A cold dread crawled up my spine.
The Crimson Dragon wasn't waiting for the formal ceremonies anymore. They were ripping up the script.
And the war that had taken five years to destroy my world was starting today.
The man stepped through the rift without a sound. No thunderous clap shattered the sky, nor did a surge of magic announce his presence. The battlefield simply went dead silent. Even the persistent, howling gales of the ash-plains faltered and died away.He towered over Caelan—broad-shouldered, encased in plate armor so dark it seemed to actively swallow the raw crimson glare of the sky. A heavy black crown rested against his silver hair, its tines curving backward like the swept horns of an ancient beast.His luminous golden eyes swept the broken ground, locking onto our mother standing beside me. For a long, agonizing second, he remained motionless. Then his gaze descended to my joined hands with my duplicate counterpart, his features tightening into stone."Release her," he commanded.Mother didn't move. Neither did I.Behind us, Caelan bowed his head, his usual arrogant posture crumbling. "My King."The newcomer didn't so much as glance at him. "You failed."Caelan’s jaw wo
When the woman opened her eyes, the air in my lungs seized.She stood beyond the Veil, rooted in an absolute dark that curled around her bare feet like frozen smoke. Silver hair spilled over her shoulders in a heavy, liquid wave, cascading past the waist of a crimson gown whose hem shifted in rhythmic, silent folds—though the air around her was entirely dead.Her face was mine.No, that wasn't quite right; my face carried the faint, diluted traces of hers. The same sharp, narrow jawline and ash-gray eyes. The tiny, pale notch of a scar carved just above the left eyebrow. Even the faint, bitter set of her lower lip matched the reflection I’d stared at in cracked mirrors my whole life. But in her expression lay something that sent an icy needle straight down my spine.Recognition. She didn't just see me—she knew me.She raised one slender hand toward the barrier, her fingers brushing the translucent boundary until the surrounding shadow recoiled from her skin as if scorched. Besid
The entity behind the First Hunger stepped out from the dust of the ruined arena.At first, my mind refused to process the image. He wasn't a towering abomination or a mass of writhing shadows. He was a man—or he had been, once. Tall and lean, his skin carried the ghostly sheen of polished bone under the sky's dull crimson glare. Long black hair, heavily threaded with silver, fell past his shoulders. Atop his head rested a circlet of dark crystal, its jagged points pulsing with a faint, rhythmic red light.His eyes, though, were wrong. They weren't Aster’s bright gold, nor were they the wild, blood-red pits of the First Hunger. They were pure, lightless voids. Two hollow wells where a human soul used to be.Behind him, the First Hunger lowered its massive, multi-jointed head, its voice a gravelly rasp. "My king."The man didn't immediately look down. "You've served poorly."The beast flinched, its heavy armor plating shifting with an oily scrape against the stone. "I nearly brok
The scream beyond the Veil did not fade.It crawled through the arena, low and ragged, vibrating through my bones until my teeth throbbed with the tension. Crimson light poured from my mother’s palms and bled across the barrier, painting every jagged crack in the ruined floor a blinding shade of red."Mother!"I lunged toward her, but the barrier slammed into me like a physical wall.The impact threw me backward, pain exploding across my shoulder blades as stone bit into my flesh."Seraphina!"The other Seraphina snagged my arm before I could throw myself against the barrier a second time."Don't.""She's dying!""I know.""Then let me go!"Her grip only tightened. For once, I didn't try to tear myself away.Her eyes were overflowing, tears cutting pale tracks through the ash on her face.Outside the barrier, Lyra stood with both palms pressed against the glowing wall. Blood dripped from her nose, painting her chin red, but she didn't so much as blink.Aster stood severa
The Crown Blade burned between our hands.Blistering heat crawled through my palms and bled up my forearms, following the pulse of my veins toward my shoulders. Beneath our boots, the crimson circle tightened, its jagged border flaring brighter with every ragged breath I took.Across from me, the other Seraphina stared into my eyes.For the first time since this nightmare began, I didn’t see an enemy.I saw myself.The same gut-wrenching terror lurked behind her stormy gray eyes. The same stubborn, desperate refusal to yield.Neither of us moved an inch.“Choose who stays,” the ancient, disembodied voice commanded, vibrating through the bedrock of the arena.My fingers dug deeper into the hilt of the Crown Blade. "No."The single word echoed off the ruined stone pillars.Aster’s head snapped toward me, his face pale. "Seraphina—""I said no."I hauled back on the hilt, trying to wrench the steel free. It didn't budge. It was as if we were gripping a rod of iron set in sol
For several seconds, the battlefield fell dead silent.I stared at the man standing beyond the shattered doorway, searching for any trace of the father I remembered.There was nothing.My father had been warm hands, a rough laugh, and the comforting scent of cedar oil clinging to his training clothes. He had carried old battle scars and complained whenever his knees burned after a long ride through the frost.This man looked as though time itself had forgotten to touch him.Silver hair framed a face that might have been carved into ancient stone. His golden eyes were calm—almost gentle—yet something lurking beneath that composure made every instinct in my body recoil.Beside me, the other Seraphina raised the Sword of Dusk, her knuckles white around the hilt. "You expect us to believe you're our father?"His gaze shifted to her. "I don't expect anything from you." Then his eyes found mine. "I've waited too long for either of you to trust me."My grip tightened around the Swor







