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Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Dark

The corridors of the palace were quiet when Serenya finally dismissed her attendants and retreated to her chamber. The laughter and music of the feast still echoed faintly in her ears, yet her mind was miles away.

She closed the heavy golden doors behind her and leaned against them, her chest rising and falling as if she had just escaped a battlefield rather than a banquet.

"Engagement feast…" she muttered bitterly under her breath, stripping off the jeweled hairpins from her dark hair one by one. A celebration for a marriage I never chose. A future they decided for me.

The room was bathed in soft moonlight spilling through the silken curtains. To anyone else, her chambers would be a dream — velvet couches, a bed embroidered with pearls, golden vases holding flowers that never seemed to wilt. But to her, it felt like a gilded cage.

She sat before the mirror, her reflection staring back at her. Not the trembling, naïve girl of her past life, but a woman sharpened by betrayal and reborn with purpose.

"They smiled at me tonight, the same way they smiled before they drove the blade into my back," she whispered to her reflection. "But this time, I will not be the prey."

As she removed her necklace, a faint sound broke the silence — a scuff of boots just outside her chamber door. Serenya's sharp ears caught it immediately. Her fingers froze. Slowly, she rose and stepped closer to the door, her body poised like a coiled serpent.

A whisper. Two men's voices.

"…are you certain she suspects nothing?" one asked in a low tone.

"She is blind," the other replied. "Let her enjoy her engagement celebrations. By the time the vows are spoken, her fate will already be sealed."

Serenya's blood turned cold, though her expression remained eerily calm. Every word sank into her heart like a dagger. So… it begins. The same plot. The same treachery.

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. But this time, I am no lamb led to slaughter.

When the footsteps faded away, she moved swiftly to her desk, pulling out parchment and ink. With careful strokes, she began to write — not a letter of fear, but a list. A list of names. Each one marked by her memory, each one tied to her downfall in the past life.

Her quill scratched across the paper with determination.

At the top of the list, she wrote the words that would become her silent vow:

"For every drop of my blood shed, theirs will flow in rivers."

Serenya set down the quill, her lips curving into the faintest, most dangerous smile.

Tonight had confirmed what she already knew: the court was nothing but a den of vipers. But in this life, she was no longer their prey.

She was the serpent.

And soon, they would all learn what it meant to provoke a queen reborn.

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