The pyre groaned beneath her, the wood crackling as flames licked hungrily at the dry timber. The heat pulsed against Seraphina's bare feet, and smoke curled into the night sky, thick and suffocating.
She didn't cough.
Didn't scream.
She stood proud, tall, and defiant even as the crowd roared for her death.
"Witch!"
"Burn her!"
"Cleanse her filth!"
Seraphina's wrists were bound behind her, the rough rope digging deep into her flesh, but she barely felt it.
She barely felt anything. Except for the cold, festering rage curling inside her.
The words rang through the square, a chorus of betrayal spat from the mouths of those who had once come to her for help. Women who had wept at her doorstep, begging for fertility charms. Men whose wounds she had healed with whispered incantations. Children she had saved from death's grasp.
Now, they looked at her with hatred in their eyes, as if the flames at her feet could erase the favors they owed.
She scanned the crowd, her silver eyes sweeping over familiar faces, searching—hoping—for even a flicker of hesitation. A sign that someone, anyone, might regret this.
None did.
Even the priest, the man who had once whispered prayers against her skin as he fucked her in the dark—stood at the front, clutching a silver cross as if it could wash away his sins. His lips, which had once worshiped her, were now twisted into a sneer of pious cruelty.
Seraphina laughed. Low. Dark. Broken.
The sound slithered through the mob like an unseen serpent, sending a ripple of unease through their ranks. A woman clutched her child tighter. A man shifted his weight, eyes darting toward the unlit torch in the executioner's hand.
They feared her still.
Good.
The executioner stepped forward. A brute of a man, thick with muscle and hollow of soul. His gaze was empty, devoid of remorse, as he lifted the torch high, its flame flickering in the night air.
A hush fell over the square.
Seraphina lifted her chin, silver eyes reflecting the firelight, her lips curling in a slow, knowing smile.
"You fools," she whispered.
The wind carried her words, weaving them through the silence like a whispered curse. The murmuring started at the edges of the crowd—unease spreading like rot.
"You think fire will cleanse me?" she continued, her voice smooth as silk, sharp as steel. "You think you have power over me?"
A murmur. A rustling of uncertainty.
The priest spat at her feet. He raised his voice, louder than the rest, a venomous sneer pulling at his lips. "You are an abomination! A whore of the devil!"
Seraphina smirked, her voice dripping with mockery. "Funny," she purred. "You didn't seem to mind when you were moaning my name in the dark."
A gasp rippled through the crowd. The priest recoiled, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. His eyes flared with rage as he barked, "Lies! You will burn for this!"
Seraphina smiled, but it was not the smile of someone afraid. It was the smile of someone who had nothing left to lose.
The priest's face twisted in fury. "BURN HER!"
The torch dropped.
Flames erupted, devouring the pyre in an instant, racing up the wooden stakes like starving beasts. The heat slammed into her, searing her flesh, curling her hair into brittle tendrils of blackened ruin.
Pain.
Searing, all-consuming.
The fire swallowed her whole—hungry, merciless. It licked at her bones, its heat a cruel lover's touch.
The smell of burning hair and scorched skin filled the air.
Searing. Blinding. All-consuming.
A scream tore through the night.
Maybe her.
Maybe not.
The scent of burning hair, charred skin, filled the air. The world blurred, twisting at the edges, as the fire clawed higher, faster, as if desperate to claim her soul.
Darkness clawed at the edges of her vision. Her heartbeat slowed.
Her body died.
But something else awoke.
Deep beneath the earth, something ancient stirred.
Something that had been waiting. Watching.
Mine.
It shattered her thoughts. Her body froze for a second, and when she opened her eyes, she saw it: shadows, creeping up from the cracks in the ground. Dark, twisted shapes, reaching for her, touching her with an insatiable hunger.
The world around her felt too real, too alive. Every flicker of the flames, every cry of the crowd, felt distant.
The fire did not burn her anymore. It was no longer a threat.
Instead, it was... nothing.
And what came after was everything.
The earth trembled beneath her feet as the ground cracked open, spilling dark tendrils of shadow up her legs, wrapping around her waist, pulling her deeper into something... something vast and eternal.
The priest's shrill command fell on deaf ears as she stood, her heart beating in time with the strange, rhythmic pull of the shadows.
Her breath was slow, controlled. She wasn't afraid. No, not anymore.
The flames continued to lick at her skin, the searing pain once more washing over her, but it no longer mattered. She had already stepped beyond their reach.
She lifted her head, eyes glowing a deeper red with each passing second, and she laughed. Low, dark, broken.
Her mind, once clouded with pain, was now clear. Free.
And in the silence that followed, the shadows whispered her name, wrapping around her soul like a lover's touch.
Seraphina.
She felt it, deep in her bones. The power that now coursed through her, the weight of it, heavy and unyielding.
Mine.
The world tilted, the flames dimming as the darkness embraced her completely. The air itself seemed to thicken around her as everything—everything—shifted.
And then, she fell.
The Underworld
Seraphina awoke to silence.
Cold.
Still.
The air smelled of ash and something richer, deeper—sin, raw and untamed.
She was lying on stone, her body bare, exposed, but the heat of the fire was gone. In its place was something else. A cool sensation that slithered over her skin, like a lover's touch, a caress that sent shivers down her spine.
She pushed herself up from the smooth stone beneath her,her limbs trembling, her breath hitching as she caught sight of her reflection in the polished obsidian floor.
And she was no longer the same.
Her skin was no longer smooth but marked—black runes curling over her arms, her thighs, her stomach. Symbols she didn't recognizer—yet somehow understood
Her silver eyes were now crimson, glowing faintly in the darkness.
Her nails had transformed into sharp, deadly claws.
Her lips, once pale, were now dark red, almost as if stained by the blood of her own transformation.
Seraphina stood, her breath steadying as she took in her new form. Her heart, once human, now beat a slow, rhythmic pulse—a sound that was hers and hers alone.
No longer human.
What have I become? she wondered, her mind a whirlwind of questions and newfound sensations.
Shadows whispered around her, brushing against her skin, voices curling in the depths of her mind.
Queen.
She shivered, a thrill of dark energy coursing through her veins.
Welcome home, Seraphina.
END OF CHAPTER 1