By the time Seraphina returned to the imperial palace, word of her excursion had already spread like wildfire. Whispers slithered through the golden halls of the Empress's Court—"The Empress hunted a divine beast and returned unscathed?"
"Her powers… they've changed."
"She smiles now. That's the scariest part."
In the grand hall, nobles gathered, each hiding behind painted smiles and jeweled masks—hoping to see weakness in her eyes.
Instead, Seraphina arrived like a storm cloaked in elegance. Her gown shimmered with the hues of midnight and embers. Her gaze swept the crowd—quiet, unreadable, but piercing.
Lucien walked behind her in full black, his aura calm and deadly. Kael, dressed as a royal knight, stood to her right, hand on hilt.
A young noble stuttered, "Y-Your Majesty… we feared you were lost."
Seraphina paused. Then smiled. "Did you?" Her voice was velvet and venom. "How bold of you to assume I could ever be lost in my own kingdom."
The court fell silent.
Only one dared step forward.
Lady Evelyne, the white-robed "heroine" of the original storybook—now appointed as a High Priestess of Light.
"My Empress," Evelyne bowed, radiating grace. "We've missed your light. The temples have prayed endlessly for your safe return."
Seraphina met her eyes and felt her stomach twist—not with fear, but disgust. Behind Evelyne's kind tone, Seraphina saw the truth. The small smirk she used to miss. The flicker of challenge.
"Oh, dear Evelyne," Seraphina said sweetly, tilting her head. "You speak of light. And yet, you forget—some flames burn even in the darkest places."
Evelyne blinked.
Seraphina continued, louder now, her voice echoing, "Tonight, let this court remember something. The Empress does not hide behind masks of false kindness. If I show mercy, it's a gift. Not a right."
She stepped closer to the throne—her throne—and sat. The hall trembled slightly. The light from the chandeliers flickered.
Power recognized its ruler.
Behind her, Kael smirked. Lucien said nothing, but his eyes gleamed with something fierce—loyalty… and pride.
Later that night, Seraphina met with her loyal informant in secret—Noir, the charming, dangerous man who once lived in the heroine's shadow, cast aside.
"The court trembles," Noir said, pouring her wine. "But the church smiles. Evelyne grows too comfortable."
"Good," Seraphina said, sipping slowly. "Let her. I want her to think she's winning."
"And you?" Noir leaned in. "What do you want?"
She stared into the goblet. "I want everything she stole… and then I want her to know it was me who took it all back."
He grinned. "Cruel. I like it."
And outside, in the shadows, someone watched them—golden eyes burning with old betrayal.
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