Summary
Instead of Getting Killed by the love of her life, she killed herself as she knew that pierce will kill her because of her mother's wrongdoing. But while dying she silently prays for a second chance which was heard by the Heavens. She was born again but with a new identity, will she be able to gain back what she lost in her previous life??
CHAPTER 1
Elara stepped into her chamber; her gait heavy with the weight of the night's memories. Straight into the sanctuary of her bathroom, she went, where the soothing steam of a prepared bath awaited her. A servant lingered; her eyes averted in deference.
"Shall I fetch your breakfast, Your Highness?" the servant ventured, her voice soft with subservience.
Elara's response was sharp, a bark laden with frustration. "Leave me be," she snapped, her tone cutting as she dismissed the servant with a wave of her hand. With a quick retreat, the servant vanished from the room, leaving Elara alone with her thoughts.
Sinking into the warmth of the water, Elara closed her eyes, allowing the heat to seep into her weary bones. Yet, even in the embrace of the bath, she couldn't shake the memory of the night before. The touch of a man twice her age, his rough hands tracing unwelcome paths across her skin, his stale breath suffocating her in what he deemed affection.
Disgust twisted in her gut as she recalled the sensation of his lips upon hers, a mockery of intimacy. She longed to scrub away the memory, to cleanse herself of his touch and the shame it brought.
Thoughts turned to her father. She wondered what he’d be like. Did he sleep with other people’s daughters like the old men she slept with? But then, her father had never existed, not as much as a name or a face when he came up. Elara sometimes imagined that her mother had received all her daughters as hand-sculpted figurines, presented to her by the gods, by Asmodeus himself.
As tears threatened to spill, Elara's resentment bubbled to the surface, a tempest of emotion raging within her like a storm on the open seas. With each heartbeat, her anger surged, a roaring torrent that threatened to consume her.
The water in the basin, once tranquil, now churned with violent waves, mirroring the turmoil in her soul. The flames on the torches lining the walls danced wildly, their flickering intensity casting eerie shadows that danced along the chamber's walls. The ground beneath her trembled ever so slightly, as though the very earth recoiled from her wrath. And amidst it all, a faint whisper of wind filled the room, its mournful howl a haunting echo of Elara's fury.
She trembled with the force of her emotions, every fiber of her being vibrating with raw, unbridled rage. How could she not? Trapped in a life dictated by her mother's whims, a pawn in the Queen's sinister games, she felt suffocated by the weight of her destiny. Shackled to a throne she never asked for, burdened by expectations she could never hope to meet—such was the fate she endured, a fate that filled her with a seething, burning resentment.
But beneath the anger, a deeper pain gnawed at her heart. She loathed herself for her weakness, for her inability to stand up to her mother's tyranny. She despised her powerlessness, the bitter taste of failure lingering on her tongue. She was supposed to be powerful, formidable—a force to be reckoned with. And yet, she could barely harness a fraction of her potential, a fact that earned her nothing but scorn and disappointment from the one person whose approval she craved above all else.
With a guttural scream of anguish, Elara collapsed into tears, her sobs wracking her body as she crumbled beneath the weight of her despair. Surrounded by people and activities, she felt utterly alone, adrift in a sea of emptiness that threatened to swallow her whole. And in that moment of agony, she realized the true extent of her solitude, a solitary figure lost amidst the chaos of her tumultuous existence.
As Elara sank into the comforting embrace of the bathwater, a sudden heaviness filled the air, suffocating her senses with the acrid stench of smoke. With a start, she bolted upright, water cascading around her as she blinked against the sting, hands instinctively rising to shield her face.
Through the swirling haze, she glimpsed the sinuous forms of her mother's prized serpents, their scales shimmering in the dim light as they slithered into the room, a menacing duo poised to strike. And then, like a specter materializing from the shadows, Queen Lillith emerged, her presence a palpable force that sent shivers down Elara's spine.
Seated upon a conjured chair, the Queen regarded her daughter with an inscrutable gaze. "I see you've returned," she remarked, her voice a silky whisper that carried the weight of command.
Elara's jaw tightened, her gaze flickering away as she braced herself for the inevitable confrontation. "Yes, mother," she replied, her tone laced with resignation. "Emperor Felix and the Emerald Isle kingdoms will soon be within your grasp." She paused, the bitterness of her words hanging heavy in the air. "As soon as he denounces his son and meets his end on his sixtieth year's eve, his legacy will be yours to claim. A puppet monarch, a mockery of rule. They’ll call him possessed. But they won’t be wrong, would they?"
Lillith’s laughter echoed through the dimly lit chamber, a chilling sound that seemed to crawl under Elara’s skin. The flickering candle flames danced, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Lillith, her mother, was a sorceress of unparalleled power, and her cruelty knew no bounds.
“Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscience, child,” Lillith sneered, her eyes glinting with malice. “This is your duty to me.”
Elara’s heart pounded in her chest. She had always known her mother was ruthless, but this… this was beyond anything she could have imagined. She squared her shoulders, her voice trembling but defiant. “My duty? You call this duty? Sending your daughter off to sleep with men old enough to be her father, offering her up just for your gain. You call that duty? You shouldn’t even be a mother!”
The last sentence barely left Elara’s lips before an invisible force clamped around her throat. Panic surged through her veins as she gasped for air. Her vision blurred, and she stumbled backward, clawing at her neck. The room spun, and she felt life slipping away.
Lillith’s eyes bore into hers, cold and unyielding. “Don’t forget, child,” she whispered, her voice a venomous hiss, “It is I who made you. I own you, Elara, and you will do my bidding. Is that understood?”
Elara nodded weakly, her world narrowing to the pain in her chest. Her mother released the magical chokehold, and she collapsed into the bath basin, gasping for precious air. Lillith’s crimson robes swirled as she circled Elara like a vulture.
“That’s better,” Lillith said, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “Hurry up, my dear. I have another assignment for you.”