The metallic scent of blood filled the room.
Elara knelt on the cold marble floor, her once elegant white gown soaked crimson. The chandelier above flickered, casting ghostly shadows across the grand hall that had, just hours ago, echoed with laughter. Now, it was silent — except for her ragged breaths and the faint drip of blood pooling beneath her palms.
"Why…?" Her voice trembled as she lifted her head.
Before her stood Lyra, her dearest friend and sister since childhood — the same woman she had trusted with her secrets, her dreams, her heart. And beside Lyra, holding the dagger still wet with her blood, was Adrian, the man Elara had loved so fiercely that she'd given up everything for him.
Her fiancé.
Her betrayer.
Adrian's eyes, once warm and full of affection, were now cold — almost relieved. "You were too naive, Elara," he said flatly. "Too trusting. Too perfect for your own good."
Lyra smirked, her emerald eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Did you really think love was enough to keep him? Poor, foolish Elara. You never saw it coming."
The world tilted. The pain in her chest spread like fire. Memories flashed — the stolen glances between them, the hushed whispers she'd ignored, the moments that hadn't made sense until now.
It all aligned — every doubt she'd brushed aside, every uneasy feeling she had silenced in the name of love.
"Why… would you do this?" she rasped. "I gave you everything. I—"
Lyra crouched down, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "Exactly. You had everything. The name, the inheritance, the power. You were born with what I had to beg for. And Adrian—" she glanced up at him, her expression softening — "was smart enough to realize which side was worth choosing."
Elara's vision blurred. The warmth draining from her body was replaced by a cold so deep it felt like death itself was reaching for her.
She wanted to scream, to fight, but her limbs were heavy, useless. Her heart broke one final time — not from the betrayal, but from realizing how blind she had been.
As her last breath left her lips, a single tear slid down her cheek.
"I'll never forgive you…" she whispered.
Then, darkness swallowed everything.
Silence.
But death did not hold her long.
When Elara's eyes opened again, she gasped — her lungs filled with air, her body whole and unbroken. The stabbing pain was gone.
She sat up abruptly, her fingers clutching at the bedsheets — soft silk embroidered with gold.
She looked around — her room. Her old room. The same canopy bed, the same scent of rose and jasmine drifting from the window. But the room was smaller. It couldn't be.
She sat up slowly, trembling.
The mirror across the room showed a younger girl — sixteen, not twenty-six.
Her skin untouched, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"No," she whispered. "No, this can't be—"
Her eyes darted to the ornate calendar on her vanity.
Date: May 12, Year 2013.
Ten years before her death.
The gala hadn't happened yet.
Her father was still alive.
Adrian and Lyra were still planning their betrayal — but hadn't acted.
Tears burned her eyes.
The gods — or fate, or sheer cosmic cruelty — had given her another chance.
This time, she would not be the pawn.
This time, she would build an empire so vast, no one would ever dare betray her again.
She whispered to the empty room,
"I'll burn this world if I have to.
But I'll never be their victim again."