All Chapters of REVENGE AFTER REBIRTH-THE LORD'S FORSAKEN BRIBE: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Valcrest had always been loud: vendors shouting over one another, guards calling orders, horses clattering across stone streets.But in the weeks after my return, the noise changed. It wasn’t chaos anymore. It was living.Children played in the squares again. Bakers lit their ovens at dawn. Even the bells of the old chapel rang not for mourning, but for beginnings.It was strange how peace didn’t roar the way war did. It whispered. It rebuilt itself in small sounds and steady breaths.I spent my mornings walking the city without guards when I could manage it.The first time I did, people froze at the sight of me. Some bowed. Others stared. One little girl, no older than six, ran up and handed me a flower with trembling hands.“It’s not much, Your Majesty,” she said. “But Mama says flowers grow better after rain.”I smiled. “She’s right.”The child beamed and ran off.Cassian, who walked a few paces behind, chuckled. “You’re turning into a legend already.”“Legends burn out,” I said. “

The bells began at sunrise.Not the cold, metallic tolls that once announced executions or war these were softer, rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat echoing through the city.It was the first Day of Dawn.Every street shimmered with candlelight, though the sun already rose above the horizon. Children ran barefoot through the square, ribbons of white and gold tied in their hair.Vendors hung flowers from their stalls; the scent of bread and honey drifted through the air.The kingdom was alive again.And for the first time, I felt it wasn’t just mine to rule it was mine to belong to.The council had arranged a ceremony in the great square.Not the kind with crowns or trumpets, I forbid that.No thrones, no distance between the ruler and her people.Cassian stood beside me at the palace gates, straightening the clasp on my cloak.“You’re nervous,” he teased, though his tone was gentle.“I’m not,” I lied.He smirked. “Your hands say otherwise.”I looked down, and they were trembling slight

(This special chapter takes you back to the night before Serina’s execution the moment that defined her rebirth.”)The cell smelled something faintly sweet like roses, maybe Someone had left them by the door, a mercy or a mockery; Serina couldn’t tell anymore.Night dripped slowly through the bars, silver and endless. The palace bell had struck midnight long ago, yet the world refused to sleep. Every sound, a guard’s boots, a whisper in the corridor pressed against her like a heartbeat she couldn’t silence.Tomorrow, the same guards would lead her to the scaffold.Tomorrow, she would stop being the queen and become a warning carved into the city’s memory.She sat on the cold floor, her dress torn and gray. The silk that once shimmered beneath candlelight now hung heavy with dust. The once-proud embroidery of her family’s crest had been ripped away as if stripping the fabric could erase her name.Her hands trembled in her lap. Not from fear, but from the stillness that comes when a per

By the time Serina reached the gates of Valcrest, dusk had already turned the sky to bruised violet.From a distance, the city looked almost holy towers gleaming in fading sunlight, banners fluttering gold and crimson above the palace spires. It was as though nothing had burned. As though the earth hadn’t opened once to swallow her name whole.But when she drew closer, the truth revealed itself.The walls were cleaner now, the markets louder, the faces brighter but the air… the air was wrong.It smelled of denial.The guards at the western gate didn’t even glance at her. She was just another traveler in plain robes, her hair hidden beneath a hood. Once, those same guards had knelt as she passed, their armor catching the light like a sea of mirrors.Now, she slipped through unnoticed.Inside the city, everything was both familiar and foreign.The baker still called out his morning prices, the blacksmith still cursed his forge, the old bell above the chapel still chimed on the hour.But

The invitations came quietly.Folded parchment sealed in plain wax, passed through servants, slipped beneath doors after dusk.No royal crest. No name.Just three words scrawled in graceful script:“The kingdom remembers.”By the third night, whispers spread through the noble quarter about a woman hosting secret gatherings beyond the old city walls. Some called her a prophet. Others, a ghost.Only one of them was right.The old hunting lodge stood where the forest met the river abandoned since the rebellion, its walls cracked, its roof heavy with moss. By torchlight, it looked like a ruin. By candlelight, it looked like a possibility.Inside, a dozen figures gathered around a long table. They spoke in hushed tones, faces half-hidden by hoods and veils.At the head of the table, Serina watched them from the shadows.She’d traded her robes for a fitted cloak, her hair loose and dark against her shoulders. To anyone else, she was just another phantom chasing old glory. But her eyes were