Elira shook her head slowly, backing away from Malveric.
"You're lying."
Her voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper.
"This is manipulation… some cruel magic trick."
Malveric remained still, his crimson gaze unblinking.
"You don't have to believe me."
He raised one hand, fingers curling as black flames began to dance from his palm.
"But let your own soul show you the truth."
He blew the flames gently toward her.
Elira tried to move — but couldn't.
The fire didn't burn. It entered her — through her chest, her breath, her blood.
And then…
Everything changed.
She was no longer standing in the crumbling, twisted version of her room.
She stood in a golden courtyard.
Her gown shimmered like starlight, delicate silver chains around her waist. At her side was a crown — smaller than a king's, yet radiant. She turned her head and caught her reflection in a polished mirror pool.
It was her.
But older.
Wiser. Regal. Her eyes were not filled with fear, but fire.
And beside her, laughing — was King Edward.
Tall, powerful… and cruel behind the charm in his blue eyes.
She watched herself in this vision walk beside him through halls of applause… then slowly watched her smile fade. She saw how the king grew colder. How whispers followed her. How magic bloomed in her hands — and threatened his pride.
Then the image shifted.
She stood in a chamber.
Alone.
There was blood on her lips.
Her hands trembled.
At her feet… was her own body.
Struck down by a blade wrapped in blue fire — Edward's blade.
Her own scream echoed in her ears — though her mouth wasn't moving.
The vision faded like ash in the wind.
Elira collapsed to her knees, gasping.
Tears streamed down her face as her voice shook:
"That was me… That was me…"
Malveric knelt before her like a dark priest beside a broken god.
"You were a queen once. You were power. And you were betrayed."
"Why did no one tell me…" she whispered. "Why didn't I remember?"
"Because your soul was shattered when you died," he said gently. "Reincarnated, but incomplete. The mirror called you back when it could no longer bear your silence."
Elira clutched her arms tightly, as if trying to hold herself together.
"Then what am I now? Just a ghost in someone else's life?"
"No," he said. "You are Elira — and you are the heir of your own throne. All you have to do… is take it."
But her heart pounded with fear.
What if he's right?
What if everything else was the lie?
What if the boy she began to trust... was just the last chain of a cursed bloodline?