The banners of House Vale whipped in the cruel winds as Selene knelt upon the stone dais, the sigil of the lion rampant snarling above her like a mockery. Red velvet cloaked the cold marble, the scene painted in regal cruelty. The cheers of the crowd below roared in her ears, those same voices that once sang her praises now screamed for her blood.
This was not how it was supposed to end.
"Selene Corvane," the voice of High Chancellor Veris echoed, slick as oil, "you stand accused of treason against the Empire of Velarion, conspiracy to murder the Crown Prince, and heresy against the Orders of Essence."
Lies. All lies. Woven with golden tongues and smiling masks.
Selene did not plead. She did not scream. Her hands, shackled in steel dampened by Essence-nullifying runes, trembled only slightly. She had already spent those tears in the dark. Now there was only cold acceptance and the weight of betrayal crushing her chest.
Her eyes rose slowly.
Beyond the dais, draped in black and gold, stood Daeron Vale, the man she had once believed to be the sun itself. His golden hair shone like molten fire beneath the twin moons of Velarion. His Essence Core blazed behind his sternum, visible to all with the Sight, a blazing inferno of dominance, unmatched by any in his generation.
He did not look at her.
Not as a lover.
Not even as a stranger.
He stood beside his father, the Iron Duke, face carved from marble, eyes forward. As though she were no more than a stain upon his boots. The mask of indifference he wore did not crack, but Selene knew him better than anyone.
Or at least she thought she did.
"You will make a fine example," the High Chancellor purred, a blade of judgment in his hand, etched with the sigils of the Noble Orders. "Your Essence will be shattered. Your name erased. The people will remember you as a traitor."
The crowd chanted the words with sickening glee.
Traitor.
Whore.
Betrayer.
And Daeron said nothing.
It was House Vale that accused her. Her own father had abandoned her to the wolves. The friends she once dined with had disappeared overnight. She was an orphan now, not by blood, but by betrayal.
Selene's lips cracked in a hollow smile.
So this was how the game ended.
The first time she met Daeron, she had been nothing,a mousy girl from a crumbling minor house. He had lifted her from the mud, offered her his hand, his promises. She drank every word, every gaze, every touch.
And now he cast her down in the same mud from which he'd plucked her.
The High Chancellor raised the execution decree.
"By decree of the Throne Ascendant, your Essence Core shall be shattered before the people. May your soul find no rest in the beyond."
Selene exhaled slowly.
She did not beg.
They would not have the satisfaction of her screams.
The Executioner approached,clad in obsidian armor, wielding the Breaker Spear, a weapon of ancient design meant to pierce not the flesh, but the very soul. Once shattered, her Essence Core would never reform. She would die forgotten, her name swallowed by the Empire's endless hunger.
As the spear point touched her breast, Selene did not look at the executioner.
She looked at him.
Finally, Daeron met her gaze.
For a breathless second, something flickered in his eyes.
Pity?
Regret?
Or victory?
It did not matter.
The spear drove into her Core.
White-hot agony consumed her from within as her Essence shattered like glass. Her screams drowned in the roar of the crowd.
Her last thoughts were not of love.
They were of rage.
Darkness.
Then... something cracked.
A pulse.
A breath.
Selene opened her eyes to suffocating heat, the scent of burning lilies filling her nostrils. She was... alive? No. This was not life. This was between.
Shadows moved around her, whispering in tongues she did not recognize. She floated, weightless, consumed by the hollow emptiness of a broken Core. She had nothing. She was nothing.
"Is that all you were meant to be?" came a voice, soft as silk, sharp as thorns.
Selene turned or perhaps the world turned around her.
From the darkness emerged a woman clad in obsidian robes. Her face was veiled, her Essence a void that swallowed light itself.
"Who...?" Selene rasped, her voice hollow.
"You wish for vengeance, child of ash," the woman said. "You wish to rewrite your song."
Selene's heart twisted.
"Yes."
The woman tilted her head, a cruel smile curling her lips. "Then bleed for it."
Pain. Fire. Light.
Selene screamed as her soul was torn apart and stitched back together.
She awoke gasping.
The scent of lilac filled her lungs.
Familiar.
Warm.
Alive.
She sat up violently, her body drenched in sweat. Her hands trembled as she grasped at her chest.
Her Core... was intact.
She blinked at her surroundings.
Silken sheets. Familiar stone walls. The banners of House Corvane hung over her canopy bed, faded but present. The worn tapestry of the old gods, the flickering lanterns.
She knew this place.
This was her childhood chamber.
But that was impossible.
She scrambled to the mirror.
Staring back at her was the face of her younger self. The soft, naive girl of seventeen, before the Academy, before Daeron Vale.
Selene staggered.
This was... three years before her execution.
Her trembling hands brushed the pendant at her neck ,her mother's keepsake. The old Selene had worn it like a shield.
Now, it felt like a noose.
A cruel laugh bubbled from her throat.
The gods had played their hand.
She had been given another chance.
But she would not waste it groveling for affection.
No more tears.
No more love.
No more Daeron Vale.
This time, she would become the monster they made her out to be.
In the shadows of the Noble Orders, the game would begin anew.
But the rules had changed.
Selene Corvane was dead.
Only Ashen Selene remained.
And she would burn the Empire of Velarion to the ground.