They made me kneel in front of the entire empire.
Chains bit into my wrists. Cold stone pressed into my knees. Above me, the execution platform rose like a throne built for death.
People filled the square—nobles in silk, soldiers in armor, commoners standing on rooftops just to see the traitor prince die.
Me.
Kael Viremont. Crown Prince of the Aurelian Empire.Public enemy.Condemned to death.
I lifted my head and searched the crowd one last time.
My father did not meet my eyes.
My former fiancée stood beside him, her hands folded, her face calm. The same woman who had sworn to love me for life. The same woman who had testified against me in court.
I felt no shock anymore. Only a deep, hollow quiet.
So this is how it ends.
A priest stepped forward, his voice amplified by magic.
"Kael Viremont, you are found guilty of treason against the throne. By order of His Imperial Majesty, you are sentenced to death."
The crowd roared.
Treason.
They said I conspired with enemy houses. That I sold military secrets. That I planned a rebellion.
None of it was true.
But truth had never mattered in this empire. Only power did.
I turned my gaze to the executioner.
And then… I saw her.
She stood at the edge of the platform, dressed in black armor trimmed with silver. Long pale hair fell down her back like moonlight. Her eyes were sharp, unreadable.
Seraphine Nightvale.
General of the western armies. Heir of a rival house. The woman who had crushed my forces in the border war.
The woman who, in a few moments, would end my life.
Our eyes met.
For a second, something flickered in her gaze.
Not hatred.
Not victory.
Something colder.
Something final.
The executioner raised his blade.
Strange… I thought I would feel fear. Or anger. Or regret.
But what I felt instead was clarity.
I finally understood who had betrayed me. Who had arranged this from the shadows. Who had pushed every piece into place while I played the obedient prince.
My own blood.
My own family.
If I had known earlier…If I had acted sooner…
The blade came down.
Pain flashed white.
Then—darkness.
I woke up gasping.
Air burned my lungs. My heart hammered so hard it felt like it would tear my chest apart. I sat up, drenched in cold sweat.
My room.
My chambers in the royal palace.
Sunlight poured through tall windows. The silk curtains were untouched. The scent of incense still lingered in the air.
I stared at my hands.
No chains. No blood.
For a moment, I thought death had been a dream.
Then memory crashed back into me.
The platform.The crowd.Her eyes.The blade.
I jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror.
The face staring back at me was younger. No shadows of sleepless nights. No scars from war.
I looked at the calendar on the wall.
Five years earlier.
My breath caught.
This was the year before everything began. Before the accusations. Before the war. Before my name became a curse.
Before I died.
"This… isn't possible," I whispered.
But my pounding heart said otherwise.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Your Highness," a servant called. "The council meeting will begin shortly."
Council meeting.
My blood turned cold.
That was the day.
The first move. The moment the trap was set.
I remembered it clearly now—how a minor dispute between noble houses had been brought to the table. How I had spoken in favor of compromise. How, weeks later, those same words were twisted into proof of my "betrayal."
I had walked straight into their hands.
Not this time.
I clenched my fists.
They had already chosen me as their sacrifice.
The empire that raised me had decided I was meant to die.
But fate had given me another chance.
And I would not waste it.
As I turned toward the door, one name echoed in my mind.
Seraphine Nightvale.
The woman who would one day execute me.
The woman who, this time…
…might be the key to my survival.
I opened the door.
The game had begun.