Light.
Soft, golden light.
It was the first thing Seraphina felt—warm on her face, steady, nothing like the choking heat of fire or the sting of smoke.
Her eyes flew open.
The ceiling above her was pale ivory, traced with vines of gold leaf. Curtains of white silk swayed in a morning breeze. Birds sang outside.
She knew this room.
Her room.
The same canopied bed, the carved mirror, the vase of lilies on the windowsill. All exactly as it had been five years ago.
Her breath caught. "No," she whispered. "This isn't real."
She pushed the sheets away and stumbled to the mirror.
A pale, frightened woman stared back. Her skin was unmarked by chains or bruises. But her hair shimmered silver in the sunlight, every strand glinting like fine metal.
Her pulse raced. The last thing she remembered was the dungeon collapsing in fire. The voice. The shard. The pain.
Yet here she was.
Alive.
The door opened suddenly. A maid entered, carrying fresh towels. When she saw Seraphina standing barefoot in the middle of the room, she gasped and nearly dropped them.
"My lady! You're awake early today. The tailor will be here soon for your engagement fittings."
Seraphina stared. "Engagement?"
"Yes, my lady. His Highness, Prince Adrian. The announcement is tonight."
The words struck like a blade. Tonight.
The banquet. The poison. Elysia's tears.
Her stomach twisted.
"What day is it?" she asked quietly.
"The seventh of Autumn, my lady. Why? Are you unwell?"
Seraphina forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "No. Just a dream."
The maid hesitated, then curtsied and left.
When the door closed, Seraphina sank to the floor. Her hands trembled. Everything smelled the same—soap, lavender, clean linen—but her heart thudded with dread.
She pressed her palm to the floor to steady herself. The skin there burned faintly. She turned it over.
The mark was still there. Two delicate scales etched in silver light.
Not a dream.
Her breath came sharp and shallow. The goddess's voice echoed again in her mind. They caged you for their sins. Will you forgive them?
She closed her hand into a fist. "No."
But she would not make the same mistake twice.
This time she would smile, play the part, and watch.
She washed, dressed, and braided her hair to hide its silver sheen beneath a ribbon of white silk. When she stepped out into the hallway, sunlight poured through the tall windows, and servants hurried by with flowers and scrolls.
It all looked so alive. So perfect.
So false.
Her sister's laughter drifted from the balcony ahead. "Seraphina! There you are!"
Elysia turned, radiant in the morning light, her golden hair glowing like the sun itself. She ran to her with open arms, the same way she had that very morning years ago.
Seraphina's lips curved upward. Her heart was steady this time.
"I'm here," she said softly, embracing her.
The scent of jasmine clung to Elysia's hair, sweet and familiar. Seraphina's fingers tightened just slightly before she let go.
Everything would happen again if she allowed it—the banquet, the fall, the dungeon.
But not this time.
She would learn their lies, one by one. She would build her strength quietly, in the shadows, until the day came when the entire kingdom would bow before the silver-haired woman they once condemned.
For now, she smiled.
"Shall we prepare for tonight?"
Elysia beamed, unaware of the storm she had just awakened. "Of course, sister. It will be perfect."
"Yes," Seraphina murmured. "It will."
Outside, the morning bells rang, bright and harmless. Inside her chest, the mark on her palm burned like a promise.