I was one step—literally—away from the world.
I looked back at the rows of dungeons and couldn't believe it.
There were no other prisoners.
I was the only one left.
I had outlived them all.
And now?
This place had become nothing more than an abandoned building marked for demolition.
If I'd stayed even a day longer, I would've been part of the rubble.
An exit wasn't a what-if.
It was a now.
I had to leave before the guards returned. Before this dungeon was reduced to dust and memory.
I pressed my body against the wall, hiding in the shadows by the main gate.
Caution was always smarter than courage.
There wasn't a soul in sight.
Where was everyone?
I closed my eyes and focused. Peeled my ears.
There were sounds—too many.
Chatter. Footsteps. Life.
But thankfully, it was all far away.
I reached out, letting the sunlight graze my fingers.
Warm. Real.
I brushed my hand against the cold iron bars of the unlocked gate.
And there it was—freedom.
Just beyond the dungeon gate, a crowd was moving, their backs to me, drifting toward the city center like moths to a flame.
I took one deep breath.
Stepped out—
—then bolted behind the nearest bush.
My eyes locked on the palace in the distance.
Still tall. Still shining. Still smug.
Exactly as I remembered.
Perfectly manicured heart-shaped shrubs lined the path, their leaves still pink and whimsical.
Cute.
Still branding the kingdom like it's some wedding invitation.
But beyond all that… something familiar.
A massive tree, heavy with violet blossoms.
Ethereal. Ancient.
The Hundred-Year Bloom.
It only flowers once every century. And only for a month.
Wait—no. That can't be right.
Those blossoms were blooming when I was first locked up.
Has it really been a century?
Is that why they forgot me?
I stood there, stunned, until the breeze nudged me forward.
I stepped into the current of people, blending in as best I could.
But eyes found me.
Whispers followed.
"Take a shower," someone muttered, slipping past.
"Love the outfit choice," another said, every syllable dipped in venom.
I glanced down.
What used to be a white gown was now a sludge-stained tapestry of moss, dirt, and shame.
Algae clung to the hem like a fashion statement gone feral.
I caught my reflection in a puddle.
Yikes.
I raised my hand. Just instinct. Just rage.
Ready to fling an insult. Or worse.
But nothing happened.
No spark.
No glow.
No magic.
Just trembling, dirty fingers.
Crap.
I was just… a stranger.
An unkempt woman in a new world that didn't know my name.
Powerless. Alone.
Is this really where I'm at?
No.
I will not let this be.
I needed to be brave.
I needed to be more than a forgotten footnote.
If they erased my legacy, then I'd write a new one.
That's when I saw it—
His poster.
Plastered across a wall, arrogant as ever.
That face.
Smug. Polished. Crowned.
King Baltimore.
I tore it down.
Crushed it in my fist.
A ghost from the past.
My old nemesis.
A corrupt monarch playing king in my absence.
"You will pay for this," I muttered.
Soft.
Burning.
And this time…
I won't be so merciful.