Volume 1: The Price of Love Is Death
Chapter 1: Throne of Knives
The throne room was silent..
No wind, no echo—just the stillness of judgment. Blood ran in slow rivulets across the marble floor, seeping into the ancient runes carved into the stone. Zen stood at the center, breathing heavily, though every breath now tasted of copper and betrayal.
He had been called many things. The Crimson Archmage. Guardian of the Empire. The Last of House Raelthorn.
But in this moment, he was just... dying.
Poison twisted through his veins like fire wrapped in ice. He could feel his magic faltering, unweaving at the edges like frayed cloth. His once-pristine crimson robes were soaked and tattered, clinging to his frame like the last remnants of dignity.
Before him, on the obsidian dais, sat the empress—the woman he loved. Seraphine Vaelith. Her silver crown glinted under the flickering torchlight, a twisted halo above eyes that held no remorse.
"You were always too noble for your own good," she said, voice calm, melodic. It dripped with venom more potent than what coursed through his blood.
Zen's voice was hoarse. "Why, Seraphine...?"
She rose slowly, descending the steps toward him with the grace of a predator.
"Because you were in the way," she said. "Of power. Of freedom. Of everything I was meant to become."
He staggered, the pain overwhelming now. But worse than the poison was the crack in his soul—the truth unraveling inside him.
A shadow moved at the edge of his vision.
His disciple—no, his daughter in all but blood—stepped into view. Lyra Veyne. The girl he had raised from nothing, taught the arcane arts, sheltered, trained, and trusted.
Her expression was unreadable, but her silence was louder than thunder.
"You too...?" he choked out.
She nodded. "You caged me. You said you were protecting me, but all you ever did was limit me."
"I gave you everything!" he shouted, coughing violently as the poison surged again. "A home, power, love—"
"You gave me chains," she said, stepping beside Seraphine.
The sight of them together nearly broke him. Once, they had both been part of his world. His reason to fight. Now, they were united in betrayal.
"And Kaelira?" he whispered.
Seraphine's smile twisted. "She was a liability."
Zen's knees buckled. He hit the floor hard, palms slapping against the blood-slicked marble.
"You made me kill her," he said, voice cracking. "You told me her family betrayed mine. You said her love was a lie."
Lyra tilted her head. "It was necessary. You would've never let go of her otherwise."
His vision blurred. He could see Kaelira now—in his mind—her pale blue eyes, her trembling hands as he raised the blade against her throat. Her voice as she whispered, "I forgive you."
She hadn't resisted. She had trusted him, even in death.
And he had killed her.
Seraphine leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. "And the greatest tragedy? It was her father who tried to save your parents. Not mine."
Zen's world shattered.
"No..."
"He died trying," she whispered. "Because you were too blinded by pain to see the truth."
Everything he knew, everything he believed—it was all a lie. He had slaughtered the innocent. Betrayed the loyal. Empowered the wicked.
He collapsed fully now, face pressed to the floor, blood pooling around him. Magic sparked feebly around his body, flickering, dying.
"You'll fade from history, Zen," Seraphine said, turning away. "A forgotten relic. A failed martyr."
His last breath was bitter, not from poison—but regret.
And then—
The world turned white.
Pain became silence. Light became void.
And in that infinite nothingness, something ancient stirred. A whisper. A pull.
"Not yet."
Flames roared back into his chest.
Time shattered.
Zen awoke—gasping—in a field of stars and blood, long before his story had been written.
He had been given another chance.
And this time, he would not forgive.