Fear turned into anger—burning, blinding anger that surged through Lila like wildfire.
Her trembling hands stilled. The nausea faded, not because it was gone, but because her fury eclipsed it. Her golden lashes fluttered open, revealing irises like molten rubies—blazing red, unyielding, and filled with a fury that could topple kings.
"I will not live in fear," she whispered to herself, voice like iron behind silk.
Her reflection in the mirror showed a woman transformed. No longer the pale, frightened girl clutching her stomach—but an empress with a spine of steel and fury in her blood. Her long, blonde hair spilled over her shoulders like threads of gold, catching the light of the imperial chamber like a halo. But the fire in her eyes? That was no holy flame. That was the fury of a mother. Of a woman haunted by lifetimes.
She remembered. The pain. The betrayal. The blade she had once held against her own chest. The child she once buried with her bare hands. The look in Axel's eyes when he fed their son poison.
"I will not let it happen again."
She gritted her teeth, the cold fury grounding her. This time, I will rewrite fate. Even if I have to tear the stars from the sky myself.
Her hand rested over her womb—protective, possessive, and vengeful.
"Come for me, destiny," she hissed. "Come for this child. I dare you."
And across the palace, a sudden chill swept through the halls as if the universe had heard her challenge.
Because Lila Veritas was no longer just an Empress.
She was a mother reborn with vengeance in her heart and fire in her soul.
The fire in Lila's chest didn't dim—it burned hotter with every second.
She stood from her vanity, the silk robe around her shoulders slipping slightly as if even fabric could not contain her wrath. Her steps echoed through the gilded corridors of the imperial palace, each footfall heavier than the last, like the beat of a war drum. Servants she passed dared not speak—they saw her eyes, and in them, something ancient and terrible stared back.
Ruby red. Like the blood of gods.
"Your Majesty," one of the attendants spoke hesitantly, trying to offer her morning tea.
But Lila merely brushed past her, her voice slicing the air like a blade."Not now."
She entered the Empress's private war chamber—maps, letters, intelligence scrolls. All tools for control. But right now, Lila felt none of it mattered. All the power she held, all the legions that answered her command—none could change the truth she now carried within her.
She was pregnant. Again.
The child growing inside her made her hands tremble. Not with weakness. But with memory. With rage. With desperation.
Images blurred in her mind:A boy with golden hair and red eyes.Blood on tiny hands.Axel screaming.A sword piercing her chest—her own hands guiding it.And the words she had sworn as death closed in:"I will find you in every lifetime. You will love me, and I will live without you. I'll make you miserable until the gods themselves weep for you."
Her breath caught. Her throat burned.
"This child… will not suffer the same fate." Her voice cracked, trembling at the edge of resolve and madness. "I don't care if fate claws its way into this palace. I will kill destiny itself if I must."
She threw the scrolls off the table. The sound of parchment hitting marble rang out like a declaration of war.
A knock came at the door. "Your Majesty," her lady-in-waiting called, "Shall I prepare the physician for your… condition?"
Lila turned her head slightly. Her expression was serene, almost gentle, but her voice sent a shiver down the spine of the maid behind the door.
"No," she said. "Bring me the royal scribe. I want every record of the Ardent bloodline. Every mention of the cursed Duke. Everything about Alexander."
A pause.
"And bring me a sword."
The servant outside hesitated. "Your Majesty?"
"I said," Lila repeated, her voice soft and final, "bring me a sword."
Because this Empress?She would cradle her child in one arm and carry vengeance in the other.
The doors shut behind her like a final verdict.
Lila sat alone in the grand solar, her golden robes spilling like liquid fire around her, the fabric catching in the dying sun. The palace guards were posted just beyond the high arched windows. No one dared approach her now—something in her had shifted. It was no longer grief or confusion. It was purpose sharpened to a deadly edge.
Her assistant placed the scrolls and books before her with trembling hands. "This is everything we could find on the Ardent family, Your Majesty. As requested."
"And the sword?" Lila asked without looking up.
The woman hesitated. "Yes… but, Your Majesty, with all due respect…"
Lila finally lifted her gaze. Her ruby eyes, flecked with something darker, more ancient, pinned the maid in place.
"Leave it," she said calmly. "And get out."
The woman fled without another word.
Lila unsheathed the ceremonial blade, its steel gleaming despite its years in disuse. It wasn't made for war—but for rites. For oaths.
She stared at it for a moment, then placed it before her on the table and began to read.
Page after page. Generation after generation of Ardent men—warriors, rulers, cold-hearted tacticians. Each one cloaked in blood, and at the very end of one bloodline: Alexander Ardent, child of Axel and Lila Veritas.
"An angel-faced child," the text described him, "whose death shook the duchy into silence. Buried without ceremony. Rumors say he was the reason the Duchess took her life."
Lila's hands curled into fists again.
"I didn't just take my life," she whispered. "I ripped it from fate's hands. I cursed the man I loved and died hating him more than any enemy I faced in battle."
And now, she was carrying a child again.
A child that, in every lifetime, ended in tragedy. Was it her punishment? A cycle written in the stars? No—no. Not this time.
She rose to her feet, the sword in hand. A vision of herself flashed before her eyes—on a battlefield, blood-slick and defiant, challenging gods and men alike.
"You took him from me, Axel," she said aloud. "Over and over, you let him die. You made me a mother, and then made me mourn."
Her voice cracked.
"I will not mourn again."
There was a knock—more urgent this time. "Your Majesty, His Highness—Emperor Axel—is requesting to see you."
Lila didn't answer right away. She stared at the sword again. Then at her reflection in the window: her blonde hair falling over her shoulders like burning silk, her eyes aflame.
Tell me he remembers, she thought.Tell me he dreams of blood and sorrow.Tell me he fears me.
She turned her back to the door. "Tell him the Empress is praying," she said coldly. "And if the gods are kind, they'll hear me."
But this time, she wasn't praying for peace. She was praying for revenge.