The storm came on swiftly, as if the skies themselves had decided that this was the moment. Elara stood at the edge of the cliffs, her dark cloak billowing like a shadow across the jagged rocks beneath her feet. The wind whipped through her hair, snapping it behind her like an omen, a stark reminder of what had been taken from her.
Below, the kingdom sprawled—a sprawling mass of stone and iron, rising up from the river that cut through the land like a wound. Once, this had been a land of beauty, of magic, of hope. Now it was a fractured shell, its heart torn out by betrayal and ambition.
Her eyes narrowed as she gazed upon the distant castle that sat atop the hill, its towers stretching toward the heavens, obscured by the dark clouds swirling above. There, in the halls of power, sat the man who had destroyed everything she had fought for. The man who had once sworn eternal love to her. The man who had sacrificed her to the gods.
Lord Kaelen.
The name burned in her chest like a brand.
Elara's heart, still raw and aching from the memory of his betrayal, beat hard in her chest as the wind howled around her. The gods had seen fit to punish her for defying them—but they had also granted her a second life, a second chance to right the wrongs that had been done. She would return to the kingdom, and she would make him pay.
But she was not the same woman who had died so many years ago. The magic that flowed through her now was more powerful than ever. The life she had been reborn into was one of purpose—revenge. There was no room for anything else.
The gods had not given her this second chance out of kindness. No, they had sent her back for a reason. She was their weapon, their tool, and yet… Elara could feel the flicker of something inside her—something stubborn, something rebellious—that refused to be molded by their will.
"Are you certain, my lady?" a voice called, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Elara turned slowly to face the man who had spoken. Dorian stood behind her, his posture respectful, but there was a glimmer of concern in his eyes. He was tall, with the broad shoulders of a warrior, and his dark hair fell in a neat braid across his back. His expression was always measured, and yet, in this moment, she saw the faintest trace of doubt.
The Order of the Red Talon had taken her in when she was little more than a child. They had trained her in the ancient arts of combat, forged her into a weapon to fight against the gods themselves. They had taught her to be ruthless, to control her magic, to remain detached from the world around her.
But Elara had never been truly detached. Not from the pain of betrayal. Not from the love she had once shared with Kaelen. And not from the burning desire for vengeance that now consumed her.
"I am certain," she said, her voice colder than the wind that battered her skin.
Dorian hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning her face, as if searching for some sign of weakness, some crack in her armor. But there was nothing. Elara had long since buried the parts of her that were soft. She had no room for them anymore.
"Then we leave at once," he said, his tone firm. "The time has come."
Elara nodded, her gaze shifting back to the distant castle. She had dreamed of this moment for so long. The moment when she would finally confront Kaelen. The moment when the world would bend to her will, and she would make him pay for what he had done.
It was a moment that had been years in the making. A moment that the gods had set into motion, but that she would see through to its bitter end.
The first time she had met Kaelen, it had been a summer's day in the royal gardens. She had been young—only a girl, barely into her teens. He had been a prince, confident and full of idealism. His eyes had shone with the promise of a future they would build together—one where magic and politics would coexist, where love could heal the wounds of the kingdom.
But that future had been built on lies.
The truth of Kaelen's betrayal still clung to Elara like a weight she could never shake off. She could still see the look in his eyes—the coldness, the resolve—as he sacrificed her life to appease the gods.
He had thought it was for the greater good.
But in the end, it had been for nothing.
The gods had twisted their bargain, pulling her soul from the brink of death and returning her to the mortal world. But they had not returned her as the innocent girl she once was. She had been reborn in a different body, one that carried the weight of death and vengeance in its veins.
And so, she had trained. She had honed her powers, perfected her magic, and learned to fight with the same ruthlessness that had once been her lover's strength. She had become the thing she had feared she might become: a weapon.
But weapons, Elara knew, were not meant to feel.
"What happens if he doesn't recognize you?" Dorian asked, breaking the silence.
"I don't need him to," Elara replied softly. "The man I once loved is dead. I am the woman he made me."
Dorian said nothing, but there was an understanding in his eyes. The Order had taught him not to question, not to doubt. But Elara knew that deep down, he had seen what this revenge had done to her. She wasn't the same person anymore. And she wasn't sure she wanted to be.
"The kingdom has changed, my lady," Dorian said after a long pause. "It is not the same place you left behind. Kaelen is no longer the man you once knew. He is a ruler now, a king. And the people love him."
The words cut through her like a blade. The very idea of Kaelen on the throne, ruling the kingdom with the power of a god, was enough to make her blood boil. But Elara had no time for the petty concerns of the kingdom's politics. She had come to settle an old score.
"The people don't matter," Elara said, her voice hardening. "What matters is that he pays for what he did."
Dorian studied her for a moment longer, his brow furrowed, but he said nothing. His loyalty was unwavering. The Order had raised him to serve her, to protect her, and to see their mission through, no matter the cost.
And so, together, they descended from the cliffs, making their way toward the kingdom that awaited her—a kingdom that, in time, would know what it meant to cross Elara.
They would know what it meant to face vengeance.
And they would know what it meant to face her wrath.