One of the knights laughed mockingly as he stepped forward:
"Looking for that hybrid? He fell before you did. No one will save you now."
Ophelia froze in place.
Something inside her shattered.
"No... impossible..." she whispered barely audibly.
A heavy tear slipped down her cheek for the first time, then another followed.
She collapsed to her knees, hands trembling as she gripped the sword's hilt like it was all she had left in the world.
Ophelia was the girl who never cried. Who stood alone. Who never gave up.
But now...
The only person who gave her a reason to stand, who saw in her something worth living for, was gone.
"If only I hadn't walked this path... If only I weren't so stubborn..."
Her thoughts tore her apart, every choice, every step, every word... as if she had led herself to this fate.
The knights closed in on her body, drawing near.
But she no longer saw them.
She was drowning in another hell...
The hell of loss, and the hell of guilt.
And in that moment, she was no longer a revolutionary hero, nor an heir, nor a knight.
She was just...
a broken girl who lost what she loved most.
The wind howled fiercely as Ophelia stood on the edge of the cliff, her body motionless, her gaze pale, blood dripping from her side where a knight's sword had pierced her. She didn't resist, didn't scream, didn't run. She was like a breathing corpse, without a soul, without a true heartbeat.
One of the knights stepped forward, looking into her cold eyes with contempt, then pushed her harshly from behind. Her body fell slowly into the void, leaving behind the echo of mockery and a false victorious laugh.
As she fell, time seemed to stop. She felt no pain, only the weight of memories.
"I was never the heroine of the story."
She saw Damian's face smiling, as he always did when trying to hide his worry for her…
She saw Adelia holding her silently when she was breaking…
She saw herself fighting, resisting, trying to prove to the world she was more than just a name or title.
"This is what I wanted from the start... to be my own knight… to begin alone, and to end alone."
She closed her eyes, a single tear slipped down her cheek.
"Sorry, Damian… sorry, Adelia…"
Then the fog swallowed her whole.
Ophelia's body hit the rocks like a broken doll, life extinguished and her spirit violently torn away.
Above the cliff, Damian stood, his gaze lost in silence and shock. He had finally found a way to break the seal and be by her side... but he was too late.
He stared at her with empty eyes before whispering,
"If you're in the abyss... then let us fall together."
He jumped.
He embraced her cold body, pulling her close to his trembling chest, whispering with a broken voice,
"I'm sorry... sorry I was late."
He looked at her pale face, void of any sign of life, and smiled faintly as he pleaded,
"I won't let... this be the end."
He held her tightly, as if his heart was fighting for her, and from between his arms, a warm blue light began to glow. Ophelia's wounds started to fade... as if something of him was being reborn within her.
When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Damian's face and his gentle smile, but she felt something strange...
His body was beginning to fade.
"Damian...?!" she whispered in fear.
His smile never left him, but he said softly,
"It's okay... this isn't the end, I will return."
"No, don't go!" she screamed, clutching him, but he was fading away with every second.
"You were my light in the darkness, Ophelia…"
Then… he disappeared.
All that remained was warmth in her heart, a faint voice in her memory, and a promise left unfinished.
She sank to the ground, trembling, screaming, crying, touching the spot where he had been.
Everything around her felt empty, but she rose slowly.
She wiped her tears, then looked toward the horizon. She had always trusted Damian's words, and now… she would trust herself too. She whispered with determination clear on her face:
"If the story's fate is to end at the hands of darkness, then I will be the darkness itself and end it…"
Ophelia stood up, feeling every ache in her body but refusing to be stopped. She gripped her sword. Without hesitation, she cut her hair—as if erasing her past and preparing to face an unforgiving future.
Her goal was one and unchanged: the Imperial Palace.
Inside the palace, the Emperor sat enthroned, celebrating with his ministers who believed their battle was over and that Ophelia was dead. The news was clear: Ophelia was a witch who conspired with the devil to overthrow the empire.
But suddenly, before anyone could react, the doors burst open and Ophelia entered. Their eyes met, and the Emperor's gaze was filled with shock and fear:
"How are you still alive?!"
She answered firmly, without hesitation:
"Sorry to disappoint you… but you ended nothing."
She moved swiftly toward the Emperor, her eyes merciless.
The knights stepped forward to protect him, but Ophelia didn't stop—she raised her sword, and within seconds they fell one by one, their heads severed from their bodies.
She stood before the Emperor, staring at him with a face void of emotion, carrying all the betrayal and disappointment with her:
"I won't grant you a last wish… just hope we never meet again in any life."
Then she beheaded him, letting his body fall to the ground.
But she wasn't done. She stabbed his body repeatedly with her sword, each strike carrying all the rage she had held back and all the pain she had endured.
She then turned to the ministers hiding fearfully under the table, their eyes begging for mercy that didn't exist.
She slammed a table violently and said sharply:
"You were part of all this… don't expect to survive."
She gave them no chance to speak—she tore them apart as they had torn her life, until nothing remained but scattered remains.
Ophelia stepped out of the palace, her sword dragging a trail of blood behind her. The crowd in the square was frozen in shock; no one dared to approach or speak.
In a single moment, it was all over. The Emperor had fallen, and the empire began to crumble.
Silence took over… Ophelia no longer heard anything.
Everything around her faded away. Only her voice remained in her mind, whispering with quiet pain:
"How did I get here? … Oh, right… I wanted to be something… to leave a mark, to be remembered by name… But what have I gained? I lost Damian… I lost myself… I became everything I was running from. I became the evil I was fighting."
She stood in the middle of a square soaked with blood and ash, but her heart was empty.
Far from victory, and closer than ever to falling.
In a distant corner of the square, she caught sight of her father, her mother, and Adelia standing there.
She couldn't read their expressions… as if a fog covered her eyes, or perhaps her mind could no longer handle more faces, more memories.
Then, behind her… the sound of footsteps.
She slowly turned to see Oliver approaching.
His eyes were full of worry, surprise, and perhaps fear.
Her face, however, was empty—like she no longer existed inside it.
She looked at him calmly, a faint smile forming on her lips:
"Oh… Oliver. You're still alive. That… makes me glad."
Before he could take another step toward her, her vision began to fade, blur, and grow heavy…
She collapsed silently to the ground, as if finally freed from a burden too heavy to bear.