His name was Thorne.
A blade in the dark. Seren's first move. His orders: kill me before I gather all my soul fragments.
He found me in a sacred bath of starlight, surrounded by floating relics and the scent of dried blood petals.
"You're not what I expected," he murmured, crossbow drawn.
"That's why I'm still alive," I replied, not even looking at him.
I rose from the water barefoot, unbothered, wrapped in magic older than death.
The crossbow didn't fire.
Not because he was weak.
Because I had already rewritten his will the moment he stepped into my presence.
"You reek of prophecy," I whispered, circling him. "And pain. Let me guess she promised you freedom if you killed me?"
He flinched.
Bullseye.
I pressed my finger to his chest.
"But I offer something else," I said. "Power."
"Yours?" he asked, voice trembling.
"No," I smiled. "Yours, uncaged. I don't want loyal men. I want unleashed monsters."
"You don't want to rule the empire," he muttered. "You want to set it on fire."
I leaned in.
"Darling, I am the fire."
He dropped the crossbow.
Then dropped to his knees.
"Command me."
"Good," I said. "Now swear it. On your name. Your blood. Your death, if it comes."
And he did.
In that moment, Seren lost her blade.
And I gained a general.