Prologue
The pyre crackled beneath her feet, embers snapping like the teeth of wolves eager for blood. Smoke coiled into the obsidian sky, dark as mourning veils, as the crowd gathered in silence. They weren't there out of respect, but out of satisfaction.
Princess Seraphina Valemont, once the jewel of the empire, stood bound in chains of silver and spellthread, the marks of a traitor, Her golden hair was so often praised in poems and courtly songs, but was now hung matted and scorched. The once regal silk of her dress clung to her frame, torn and blackened. Yet her sapphire eyes blazed with intent. Not fear, or terror. No, it lit up with defiance. The people she had once loved, once cared for, had turned their backs on her.
They would not see her beg.
She would not give them that pleasure.
From her perch atop the wooden scaffold, Seraphina coud see the faces of those who had condemned her. The nobles who once courted her favor now sneered with righteous malice. The priests who had blessed her birth now recited rites to cleanse her soul. Her own family. Stoic, cold, and unmoved, watched from their elevated seats in the royal balcony.
And then there was him.
Prince Caspian Albrecht.
Her betrothed. Her Betrayer.
He stood near the executioner, silver haired and silver tongued, wrapped in robes of a hero. The people cheered him as the hero who exposed the princess's treason, who saved the kingdom from her supposed coup. The man who saved everyone from a mad woman. His expression was carved from ice, lips set in a line of grim justice.
But his eyes, they flicked towards her with something else.
Guilt? Doubt? Regret?
It didn't matter. The blade had already fallen. The fire had already been lit.
''You'll regret this,'' Seraphina said, her voice hoarse but unwavering. ''Every last one of you.''
The high priest raised his staff. ''Princess Seraphina Valemont, for crimes of hearsay, conspiracy, and regicide, you are sentenced to death by flame. May the gods have mercy on your soul.''
''They won't,'' she murmured.
Then the torch was dropped.
The fire kissed the base of the pyre and rose fast, hungry. Heat licked at her legs, her waist, her arms. Pain came in waves. Sharp, blinding. Her screams were swallowed by the roars of the inferno, yet her gaze never wavered from the prince who had doomed her to this fate.
It was not the fire that took her. Instead, it was the betrayal that hollowed her out.
And just before the darkness claimed her, a whisper stirred in the smoke.
''Do you wish to live?''
The pain paused. Time paused. The world melted away, and Seraphina found herself standing in a space with no light, no sound, only the echo of that question.
''who's there?'' she rasped.
''I am the one who answers vengeance.''
A figure emerged. It was tall, cloaked in shadows that moved like living ink. His eyes glowed crimson, not with fire, but with hunger. Not for flesh, but for something deeper. For destruction.
''Your soul is beautiful in its fury.'' he said. ''Barter it to me, and I will give you another chance. Not as a lamb to the slaughter, but as a wolf among the sheep.''
''What do you want?'' Seraphina asked.
''Only what was already broken. Your soul for a new beginning. Your wrath for power.''
She hesitated. To give up her soul was to surrender the last piece of herself.
But what was a soul compared to the justice she was owed?
''What's your name?'' she asked.
The figure smiled, slow and wicked. ''Lucien.''
She looked into his eyes and saw no mercy, no lies. Only truth…and power.
''I accept.''
The void shattered like glass.
Seraphina gasped as air flooded her lungs. Her body convulsed, not in pain, but life. She opened her eyes to find herself lying in silk sheets, sunlight pouring through tall windows. She knew this room. Her chambers in the royal palace. But the air was different. Her skin was unburnt. Her hands, whole.
She rushed to the mirror.
A young woman stared back at her, no more than eighteen, the age before it all began. Before the court turned against her, before Caspian. Before the pyre.
Seraphina laughed.
It was a terrible, triumphant sound.
And this time, she would not be the victim.
She would burn the world down before it burned her again.
The sounds came back slowly. The wind. The crackling of fire. The distant cheering of the crowd. But Seraphina heard none of it clearly. All she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears and the final scream inside her chest that never made it out.
Then silence.
Total, cold silence.
She thought she had died. Maybe she had. But when she opened her eyes again, there was no fire. No chains. No pain.
Only darkness.
It wrapped around her like a heavy cloak. There was no ground beneath her feet, yet she did not fall. It was like floating in a dream, except she knew she wasn't dreaming. She felt too awake. Too angry.
Then came the voice again.
''Seraphina Valemont.''
Her name echoed in the black space, soft and smooth, like silk over steel.
''Who's there?'' she asked. Her voice was steady, even here.
''I am the one who gives second chances.''
She saw him now. A man, tall and dressed in black. His skin was pale like moonlight. His hair was dark as ink. And his eyes, they burned red, like coals beneath snow.
''You want revenge,'' he said.
It wasn't a question. He already knew.
''Yes,'' she said.
''Then give me your soul.''
Seraphina didn't answer right away. She had heard of demons in stories. Dark spirits who made deals that always came at a price. But what did she have left to lose?
Her name? Gone.
Her family? Turned their backs.
Her life? Burned on the stake
All she had left was the pain. The memory of fire. The face of the man she once loved watching her suffer. Watching her die.
''What do you want with my soul?'' she asked.
''I collect them,'' he said simply. ''But yours is…different. Full of rage. Full of promise. It reminds me of myself.''
She stared into his eyes again. She didn't see lies. Only power. And maybe a little bit of amusement.
''Fine,'' she said, ''You can have it. Give me my life back.''
He stepped closer. He didn't touch her, but the air grew cold.
''There will be rules,'' he said.
''Name them.''
''You will return to your body five years before your death. You will remember everything. No one else will. Your powers will grow, but they will come with a price. The more you use them, the closer I will be. And one day, I will come to collect.''
She nodded. ''Good, I'll be ready.''
He smiled. ''You are more interesting than most.''
H e reached out, not with his hand, but with his voice.
''Done.''
The darkness shattered once again.
Seraphina woke with a sharp gasp. Her eyes flew open. She was lying in a soft bed. Not a prison. Not a pyre.
Her canopy was above her, the fabric gold and white. The morning sun streamed in through the windows. She turned her head and saw her old dressing table, her mirror, her books. Everything looked the way it had when she was younger.
She sat up slowly. Her hands trembled.
''I'm back'', she whispered.
There was a knock on the door.
''Your highness?'' a maid's voice called gently. ''Breakfast is ready. Should I draw your bath?''
Seraphina took a deep breath. ''Yes,'' she said. ''Come in.''
As the maid came in and began preparing things, Seraphina moved to the window.
Outside, the gardens bloomed with red roses. She remembered this particular day. It was spring. Five years ago. The first step towards her downfall would begin tonight at the royal banquet. She had time, she could stop it.
More than that, she could win.
She would change everything.
The ones who laughed as she burned would soon beg for mercy.
And she would give them none.
Not this time.
This time, the princess would write her own story.