The throne room was cold.
Blood ran between the cracks of the marble floor, pooling near the torn hem of Eva Elvaris' once-elegant gown. Her knees pressed against the icy stone as chains clinked against her bruised wrists. Above her, torches flickered—shadows danced like ghosts on the cracked stained-glass walls.
Before her stood the man she had once admired from afar. Emperor Eyan Lucien Therald. Tall. Composed. Eyes like carved steel.
He didn't look at her with hatred. Nor did he look at her with love.
Only duty.
"Your family betrayed the empire," he said. "And so, Lady Eva, your sentence is death."
His voice was as quiet as snowfall.
Eva swallowed hard. "You know I had nothing to do with their plans."
Silence.
Her breath trembled. Her heart raced—not from fear of death, but from the bitter twist of irony.
This was what she'd once longed for: a man who would never let her go. Who would kill for her. Die for her. Love her madly.
Instead, she got a man who killed her because it was logical.
"I was foolish…" she thought bitterly. "I wanted passion. Obsession. I ended up begging for mercy from a man who never loved me."
Behind Eyan, shadows stirred. A summoning circle glowed beneath his feet.
The wolves came—black and spectral, summoned from his magic. One by one, they stepped from the darkness and surrounded her, fangs bared, eyes glowing like cursed moons.
Her last breath caught in her throat.
"So this is how it ends…"
And everything turned white.
---
When Eva opened her eyes again, she was gasping.
Warmth. A soft bed. Gold curtains fluttered at the window. Birds chirped.
Her heart pounded in her chest—not from death, but from life.
"What… where—"
She stumbled from the bed and ran to the mirror.
A younger face stared back. Her own, but untouched by the years. No bruises. No betrayal. No execution.
"I'm back," she whispered. "The gods… gave me another chance."
---
Her family estate was as it once was—intact, bustling, ignorant of the doom that lay ahead. Servants passed by with trays of fruit and silk. Her mother laughed in the courtyard, unaware of the blade fate would place at her throat.
"They don't know," Eva whispered. "But I do."
She didn't wait.
That night, she packed what little she could. Clothes. A pendant. Coins hidden behind her bookshelf. She slipped through the halls in silence, past the sleeping guards and careless maids. Her footsteps were barely louder than the wind.
She reached the estate gates just before dawn. Pausing, she looked back one final time.
The home that raised her.
The family that would doom her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I choose to live."
She vanished into the mist before the sun could rise.
---
Weeks passed. The capital became a memory. She found work in a quiet village at the edge of the empire, far from the palace and even farther from Emperor Eyan.
She kept her head down. Changed her name. Lived among commoners and farmers and children who didn't know her as Lady Eva.
She had no plan. Just survival.
And then, one ordinary afternoon, fate knocked on her path once more.
She tripped over a loose stone in the market street. Her groceries spilled. Pain shot through her knee.
A hand reached down.
"Are you alright, miss?"
She looked up.
A man stood over her—rough clothes, a gentle smile, and striking blue eyes that stood out beneath messy black hair. He wasn't beautiful or powerful. He didn't have the eyes of someone who'd summon wolves or give orders from a throne.
He just… felt safe.
"Y-Yes," she breathed. "Thank you."
He helped her up. His touch was warm.
"I'm Kyel," he said simply.
Eva blinked.
"Eva," she replied.
A lie. A truth. A beginning.