The crown princess stood before her, bound in chains and cloaked in fear. A dozen torches flickered in the throne room's gloom, casting jagged shadows across the walls. Cayena's blade hovered inches from the princess's throat. Her vengeance was within reach.
"You think I ordered it?" The princess's voice was hoarse, her eyes wide with desperation. "I didn't—your family's death wasn't my doing!"
"Lies," Cayena spat, her grip tightening on the hilt. She had spent years following the trail, every step leading her to the princess's gilded throne. The soldiers who stormed her family's estate, the banner they carried, the whispers of treason—all of it pointed here. "You think I don't know? My family's blood is on your hands."
The princess sobbed, shaking her head. "Please, Cayena, listen to me, Please give me a chance cayena, I was used by them, the true masterminds are-"
The blade sank deep, silencing her. Cayena watched as the light faded from the princess's eyes, and for the first time in years, she felt the weight of her vengeance lift. Yet, in its place, an unfamiliar unease settled in her chest.
The truth came later. It always did, long after the blood was spilled. And when it did, Cayena stood frozen in the doorway of her best friend's chamber, the spear slipping from her grasp.
"Why?" she whispered, her voice breaking.
Her best friend turned, a smile so cold and unfamiliar curling on her lips. "Because it had to be done."
"Do you think I enjoyed watching you shine while I stood in your shadow? Everyone adored you—Cayena the great, the swordmaster, the Graymore heir. But me? I was nothing but a loyal dog at your heels. Not anymore."
And Cayena realized that her war wasn't over. Not yet.
Cayena stood before the wreckage of her life, the weight of years of anguish bearing down on her shoulders. Blood soaked her clothes, her body bruised and battered, but it was her heart that felt the heaviest. Her spear, now stained with the blood of those who had crossed her path, gleamed faintly in the flickering torchlight.
But even as she gripped it, the weapon no longer felt like the instrument of her vengeance. It felt like an empty extension of her pain—a cold piece of steel that would never bring back what had been taken from her.
Her mind raced back through the years, piecing together fragments of memories, of the faces of those she once trusted—her family, her sister, Freya. The pain of betrayal had been overwhelming, but with each passing moment, the pieces were falling into place.
She had hunted tirelessly for the ones who had destroyed her world, convinced that the answers lay in the conspiracy, the lies woven around her family's death. But as she stood in the stillness, she understood now: it wasn't just betrayal; it was something far deeper. Something more calculated.
It had all been planned.
Her father, the Duke of Elodea, had been a powerful figure—too powerful. The Kingdom of Elodea had always had a precarious balance between the noble families, each vying for influence, but the Graymore Dukedom had threatened that equilibrium. The Emperor had feared that the Graymore family, with their military strength and resources, could rise to challenge the throne. But power wasn't enough to topple an empire. No, it had to be something more—a masterstroke of manipulation.
His Majesty had seen the Graymore Dukedom as a threat long before Cayena's birth. He knew that the family's prestige and military prowess could one day challenge his rule. The bloodline of the Graymore Dukedom was as old as the empire itself, steeped in honor, military legacy, and respect. For generations, the family had stood as pillars of the kingdom, but all of that had made them dangerous in the eyes of a ruler who craved absolute power.
Cayena's family had to be eliminated, and it had to be done quietly.
To remove the threat of the Dukedom, the king had done what every ruler in history had done: he plotted the downfall of the Graymore family, but not directly. He couldn't afford a confrontation—too many eyes, too many supporters. No, instead, he had orchestrated their fall with the subtlety of a puppeteer, pulling strings behind the scenes. He framed them for treason and executed them, only her and her sister survived, they escaped the night before execution.
And Freya...
Cayena had always trusted her. They were more than friends—they were sisters in spirit. Freya had been by her side through thick and thin, sharing every victory and every hardship. But it was Freya's desperation, her envy, that made her the perfect pawn.
Freya had always lived in Cayena's shadow, the heir to the Graymore Dukedom, the greatest swordmaster in the kingdom. It had been a constant reminder that, no matter her own strengths, she could never match the legacy of the family Cayena represented.
Freya had been swayed by the Emperor's promises. He whispered to her that she could be more than just the second daughter of a noble family, more than just the friend of the swordmaster. If she could bring down Cayena, if she could betray her closest companion, the throne would be hers. The Emperor had made her believe that by aligning with him, she would gain power—power beyond anything her birthright could ever provide.
Her jealousy had been her undoing.
And Cayena had been blinded by her own emotions.
Cayena had spent years seeking vengeance for her family, convinced that the treachery began with the crown princess or the Emperor himself. She had thought that once she discovered the truth, the pieces of the puzzle would fall into place. She had spent countless sleepless nights poring over documents, tracing the steps of soldiers who had destroyed her family, piecing together the whispers of betrayal.
But she never suspected Freya—her best friend, her confidante.
It was only when the final truth was revealed, when she stood before Freya, spear in hand, that the full scope of the treachery struck her like a blow to the chest.
Freya had betrayed her to climb higher, and she had used Cayena's grief and thirst for revenge to destroy her family.
The crown princess had been manipulated, too, just another piece in the Emperor's game. The Emperor had allowed her to believe that she was the one who had ordered the death of the Graymore family, but in reality, he had used Freya to manipulate her into believing that Cayena's family had plotted rebellion. He had played both women against each other, all the while remaining in the shadows, safely protected by the empire he ruled.
It had always been about power.
And now, in the ruins of everything she had fought for, Cayena understood the depths of the conspiracy. The throne had been built on lies, and in the end, the only thing that had mattered was that the Emperor's hold on power remained unchallenged.
Her family had died not because they were a threat to the throne—they had died because they were a threat to the Emperor's ambition. They had died because they had stood in the way of his vision of an unchallenged reign.
But Cayena would not allow the Empire to be ruled by the falsehoods of the past. She would destroy it, or she would die trying.