The flames licked at my ankles, and all I could think about was how beautiful Darian looked in the firelight.
His golden hair caught the orange glow as he stood there, arms crossed, watching me burn. Those emerald eyes that once gazed at me with such tender devotion now held nothing but cold satisfaction. Behind him, Kael's massive frame blocked out the crowd, his scarred hands resting on his sword hilt. Even now, even as I died, he couldn't look directly at me.
Coward.
The third figure stepped forward from the shadows. Lucien. My breath caught in my throat as our eyes met. His pale features were carved from marble, beautiful and merciless. The man who had whispered sweet promises into my ear as he slid the knife between my ribs.
"Any last words, witch?" The Inquisitor's voice cracked like a whip over the jeering crowd.
I tested my bonds one more time. The enchanted chains held firm, burning into my wrists with each movement. The irony wasn't lost on me. I had once worn similar chains as a slave, before I clawed my way to an empire. Now I would die in them again.
The crowd pressed closer, hungry for spectacle. Peasants and nobles alike had come to watch the Crimson Queen burn. They threw rotten fruit and screamed accusations. Witch. Whore. Monster.
If only they knew the truth.
I tilted my head back and laughed. The sound cut through the chaos like a blade, sharp and wild. The crowd quieted, unsettled. Even Darian's mask slipped for just a moment, revealing something that might have been regret.
"Last words?" I fixed my gaze on him, letting all the venom I felt poison my voice. "How about this, my love. When you wake up screaming my name, remember that you chose this. When your kingdom burns and your people suffer, remember that you could have ruled beside me instead of murdering me."
I turned to Kael next. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought it might shatter. "And you, my faithful general. I hope the gold they paid you was worth it. I hope it keeps you warm at night when you remember what we had."
Finally, Lucien. Beautiful, brilliant Lucien who had been my closest advisor, my most trusted friend. The one who had promised to stand by me through anything.
"As for you," I whispered, but somehow my voice carried across the square. "I hope you find what you're looking for in my ashes. I hope it was worth betraying the only person who ever truly understood you."
The Inquisitor raised his torch. "The witch speaks lies even as she faces judgment. Light the pyre."
The flames roared higher, and pain exploded through my body. I had expected agony, but this was something else entirely. It felt like my very soul was being torn apart, cell by cell. I bit down on my tongue to keep from screaming. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
But as the fire consumed me, something strange happened. The pain began to fade, replaced by a cold that seemed to seep into my bones. The world around me grew distant, like I was looking at it through water. The crowd's voices became muffled. Even the flames seemed to slow.
Then I felt it. A presence, ancient and vast, pressing against my consciousness.
"Such rage," a voice whispered in my mind. "Such beautiful, perfect rage. Tell me, child, what would you give for another chance?"
Everything, I thought without hesitation. I would give everything.
The presence laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Everything? Even your soul?"
I had already lost my soul the moment those three men I loved betrayed me. What did it matter now?
"Yes," I gasped as the flames reached my heart. "Everything."
"Then sleep, little queen. Sleep and dream of vengeance. When you wake, you will have power beyond your wildest imagination. But remember, all gifts come with a price."
The world went black.
I woke up in a cage.
The first thing I noticed was the smell – unwashed bodies, human waste, and something else. Something metallic and sharp. Blood. The second thing I noticed was my hands. They were small, delicate, unmarked by the scars I had earned through years of battle and betrayal.
My breath caught. These weren't my hands. These were the hands of a sixteen-year-old girl.
I was back in the slave pens of Blackwater Hold.
My heart hammered against my ribs as the memories flooded back. I knew this place. I had been here before, twenty years ago, when I was nothing more than a frightened girl sold into slavery by her own father. This was where it all began.
But how was this possible? I remembered dying. I remembered the flames, the pain, the cold presence that had spoken to me in my final moments.
I pressed my fingers to my lips, and felt something strange. A tingling sensation, like electricity dancing across my skin. As I touched my mouth, images flashed through my mind – not my own memories, but something else. Someone else's.
A kiss. The taste of wine and desperation. A man's voice whispering secrets in the dark.
I jerked my hand away, pulse racing. What was happening to me?
"Fresh meat woke up," a gravelly voice said from the shadows. "Pretty little thing, ain't she? Bet she'll fetch a good price at the auction."
I turned toward the voice and saw a grizzled man watching me through the bars. His eyes were cold, calculating. I recognized him – Garrett, one of the slave handlers. In my previous life, he had been the one to drag me kicking and screaming to my first owner.
But this time would be different. This time, I knew what was coming.
"What's your name, girl?" Garrett asked, stepping closer to the cage.
I could have told him the truth. I could have said I was Seraphina Vael, the Crimson Queen who had once commanded armies and conquered kingdoms. But that would have been suicide. In this time, in this place, I was nobody. Worse than nobody – I was property.
"Elena," I lied, using the name I had worn in my youth. "Elena Thorne."
Garrett grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "Well, Elena, you better get used to those bars. You're going to be in there for a while."
He walked away, but I barely noticed. My mind was racing, trying to process what had happened to me. I had died. I was certain of it. But somehow, impossibly, I was alive again. Not just alive – I was young again, back in my sixteen-year-old body.
And there was something else. Something about that strange sensation when I touched my lips. I had seen someone else's memories, felt someone else's emotions. It was like I had tasted their very soul.
I looked around the slave pen, taking in the other prisoners. Most were women, ranging from young girls to middle-aged mothers. All of them wore the same expression of hopeless despair that I remembered from my first time here.
But I wasn't the same frightened girl I had been before. I was Seraphina Vael, and I had been given a second chance. A chance to right the wrongs that had been done to me. A chance to make those who had betrayed me pay.
I smiled in the darkness, and for the first time since I had woken up, I felt truly alive.
The game was about to begin again. And this time, I would be the one holding all the cards.
I pressed my fingers to my lips once more, and felt that strange tingling sensation. Whatever power I had been given, whatever gift that ancient presence had bestowed upon me, I would learn to use it. I would master it.
And then, when I was ready, I would show Darian, Kael, and Lucien what happened when you betrayed the Crimson Queen.
The taste of vengeance was already sweet on my tongue.