Milan, Italy — the final autumn before my world caught fire.
The sound of my heels echoed down the cobblestone streets of Piazza San Babila. Grey skies loomed above, and the wind carried a hint of rain and unrest. People passed in hurried clusters, but I walked alone — as though time itself bent around me.
They didn't know.
Under this simple black coat, I carried a legacy soaked in blood — and a secret the arcane world had tried to bury.
My name is Fathya El'Raez.
But most only remember me as… La Reyna.
My father, Raezmir, was revered in Milan. A patron of the arts, a philanthropist. But behind the canvas-covered walls of the El'Raez Foundation, he led a darker empire — sorcery, assassins, forbidden relics, silent wars.
And I was his heir.
Raised not for elegance, but for endurance. My childhood smelled of iron and ink. I learned to wield a blade before I learned to braid my hair. At ten, I could paralyze a man with one spell. At fourteen, I watched a soul burn — and didn't blink.
But even in a world of shadows, I believed in one thing.
Family.
Until the night they betrayed me.
It began with her — Maeryss.
My adopted sister.
She was soft-spoken, graceful. My opposite in every way. The world loved her — and so did I. Until I learned where her loyalty truly lay.
That evening, we sat in the reading room, pretending to study. She looked up with her usual calm smile.
"Fathya… do you ever think being an heir is a curse?"
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
She tilted her head. "We inherit sins we never asked for."
Before I could answer, our father entered — flanked by guards. In his hand, a sealed letter bearing the black sigil of the Blood Council.
Later that night, I heard him whisper behind the stairwell:
"…If we don't surrender the true heir, the punishment falls on the entire bloodline."
"I've made arrangements," he said. "She'll disappear by midnight."
He meant me.
At 2:00 a.m., masked men broke through the terrace. Spells shattered. My father fought. I tried to help — until Maeryss pulled me away.
"Run, Fathya!" she screamed.
I obeyed — but when I turned back, her blade was in our father's chest.
"Maeryss?" I choked.
She met my eyes.
And smiled.
Fire erupted. Shelves fell. My mother's preserved body, sealed in her shrine — cracked.
I crawled. Reached for her.
The glass shattered.
Smoke. Screams. Burning flesh.
My family died that night.
And in their ashes — I was born anew.
Not as Fathya.
But as La Reyna.
---
I hid in Navigli, wounded and hunted. A man named Corrado found me behind his candle shop. He said nothing, asked nothing. But his eyes knew more than they should.
"If you're still alive after that night," he told me once, "you're not done yet."
He was right.
In time, I returned to the ruins of our estate. Stole files. Names. Secrets. Betrayers.
Maeryss.
The Lyon Family.
Members of the Blood Council who once kissed my cheeks at banquets.
I was too weak then.
So I vanished.
Burned my past. Changed my name. Learned from mercenaries, sorcerers, and things with no name.
And on the seventh year of my rebirth —
I came back to Milan.
Not for vengeance.
But for reckoning.
One name at a time.
This is not the beginning of my story.
It's the beginning of their end.