Chapter One: The Day I Died
They dressed me in red, as if mocking my title.
"The Crimson Queen," they called me—once with reverence, now with scorn. The gown clung to my bones, heavy with embroidery and betrayal. It was the same dress I wore the day I was crowned, only now it reeked of smoke and iron.
I was led to the platform like a lamb to slaughter.
The square was filled with faces—familiar ones. Lords and ladies who had toasted to my health. Courtiers who had bowed at my feet. Soldiers I'd led into victory. All of them stood still, watching.
Waiting for my blood.
I didn't cry. I didn't plead. I only looked for one face.
And there he stood—Kael Varyn, the man who had once held my heart. The man I was promised to marry. The man whose lies had woven the noose around my neck.
He stood beside the High Chancellor, expression unreadable. His black cloak billowed in the wind like a shadow reaching for me.
The Chancellor read my sentence with a voice thick with self-righteousness.
"Elira Avenwyn of House Virelle. Former Queen of Velantria. Found guilty of treason, sedition, and the murder of her kin. You are hereby sentenced to death by royal decree."
A cheer rose from the crowd like a beast roaring its triumph.
I looked up—not at the blade, but at the sky. Gray. Just like the day I was born.
How poetic.
They shoved me to my knees. The stone was cold beneath my skin. My hands were bound behind my back, but my spine stayed straight.
"Any last words?" the Chancellor asked.
I turned toward Kael, and though my voice shook, I made sure it rang out:
"You will choke on this victory."
His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
The executioner stepped forward.
The crowd held its breath.
I closed my eyes.
Let it be over.
But death… wasn't what I expected.
There was no darkness. No nothingness.
Only—
Air.
My lungs seized as I jolted upright, gasping. My heart slammed against my chest.
I was lying on silk sheets, in a room washed in gold sunlight and jasmine perfume.
This wasn't the palace dungeon.
This was—
I threw off the covers and stumbled toward the full-length mirror across the room.
And froze.
The girl staring back at me wasn't the broken, hollow woman who'd walked to her death.
She was younger. Softer. Her skin unmarked. Her eyes wide and startled. My eyes.
Sixteen.
I was sixteen again.
"No," I whispered. My voice cracked.
I touched the mirror, half-expecting it to shatter.
But it didn't.
This wasn't a dream. This wasn't heaven. Or hell.
It was a second chance.
And this time, I wouldn't be their queen.
I'd be their reckoning.
To be Continued...