The moment Liora closed her eyes, she fell.
Not into sleep … no, this was something else.
The world lurched, and suddenly, she was standing in an ancient, crumbling castle, its halls stretching endlessly into darkness. The air was thick with the scent of ash and ruin, the stone beneath her feet cracked and pulsing with veins of golden light.
She had never been here before.
And yet—
She knew this place.
Her steps were silent as she moved forward, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Strange, glowing runes covered the walls, shifting as if alive.
At the end of the hall, an open doorway loomed.
Beyond it, a throne room.
Liora's chest tightened.
The throne was cracked, its once-pristine gold now veined with darkness. And sitting upon it—
A shadowed figure.
Their form was indistinct, shifting like smoke, but their eyes—
Their eyes were locked directly on her.
Liora's body froze.
Then, the figure spoke.
"The throne calls to you."
Their voice wasn't a whisper - it was a command.
Liora's breath hitched.
"You are the Sin of Light. The others are waiting. The battle begins now."
Before she could respond, the world exploded.
Shadowy figures descended from the ceiling, their forms twisting and shifting like living nightmares. Sins.
Liora turned and ran.
The halls closed in, shifting and warping around her, each door leading only to another endless corridor.
She wasn't escaping.
She was trapped.
But then—
A door burst open ahead.
Liora stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind her—
And froze.
The room was filled with mirrors.
Cracked, broken, yet somehow still reflecting.
She stepped forward, her breath shaking—
And her reflection was not her own.
The person in the glass was older, their face lined with power and grief. A crown rested upon their head, the same sigil now burned into Liora's wrist gleaming on their temple.
Liora's heart stopped.
She knew that face.
Because it was hers.
Or at least—
It had been.
The vision shattered around her.
Liora gasped awake, her sheets twisted around her body, her skin damp with sweat.
For a moment, she didn't move - too afraid that if she did, she'd find herself still in that place.
But no.
This was her apartment.
The dull hum of the city still rumbled beyond the window. Her bookshelves still stood, slightly crooked from the uneven floors.
She was home.
And yet—
Her wrist burned.
Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her hand—
And there it was.
The same mark from the mirror, faintly glowing, like it had been seared into her flesh.
Liora's breath came fast and shallow.
This wasn't just a dream.
This was real.
Liora spent the day in a daze, her mind spinning.
Had she imagined it?
The castle, the throne, the whispered name—
Sin of Light.
The words wouldn't leave her alone.
By the time she found herself wandering the city streets, the sky had begun to darken, painting the world in hazy gold and violet.
She wasn't sure why she had ended up here.
Maybe she was hoping for answers.
Instead—
She got something else.
Someone was watching her.
She felt it before she saw them - a weight in the air, an invisible pull that sent a shiver down her spine.
And then—
A voice. Smooth. Amused. Dangerous.
"I see you've received the invitation."
Liora whirled.
A man stood before her, leaning lazily against the streetlamp, his form draped in dark silks that shimmered unnaturally under the city lights.
His features were too perfect, his skin flawless, his eyes gleaming like liquid gold.
But it was his smile that unsettled her most.
Effortless. Knowing.
Like he already owned her.
Liora's throat went dry.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The man chuckled. "You already know."
He stepped forward, slow, deliberate—
And suddenly, the air wasn't cold anymore.
It was thick, heady, like the moment before a storm.
Liora staggered, her body reacting to his presence in a way she couldn't explain.
The man tilted his head, watching her with clear amusement.
"You're not alone, Liora," he murmured. "The kingdom calls, and soon, you will have to choose a side."
His gaze flicked briefly to her wrist, where the mark still glowed faintly beneath her sleeve.
"But don't mistake me." His voice dropped, soft and silken. "I'm not your enemy."
Liora's stomach twisted.
The way he said it—
Like he could be.
Like, at any moment, he might decide to be.
She took a step back. "Then what do you want?"
His smile deepened.
"Isn't it obvious?" he murmured. "I want you, of course."
Liora had woken up to a nightmare.
Now, she was walking straight into another.
The Lords of Sin weren't just waiting.
They were hunting.
And somehow—
She had just become their prize.
Liora's breath caught.
"I want you, of course."
The Lord of Lust stood before her, all too perfect, too composed, as if he had been expecting this moment.
Her mind screamed danger, but something in the way he looked at her - like he knew every thought in her head before she even had it—made her hesitate.
She took a step back, pressing her wrist against her chest, trying to hide the mark.
His golden eyes flicked downward, amusement flickering in their depths.
"Hiding it won't change what you are," he said smoothly. "You belong to the kingdom now. Whether you accept it or not."
Liora clenched her fists. "I don't belong to anyone."
His smirk deepened.
"Oh, little heir, you have no idea how wrong you are."
Then - he moved.
One moment, he was standing a few feet away. The next—
He was behind her.
Liora's body locked up as his breath ghosted against her ear, his voice velvet-smooth. "The others will come for you soon." His fingers barely brushed her wrist. "Some will want you dead. Others will want you to kneel. And some…"
His lips curled against her skin.
"Some will want to own you."
Liora's pulse roared.
With a sharp inhale, she twisted away, stepping out of his reach. "Then what do you want?" she snapped.
The Lord of Lust only chuckled, his golden gaze darkening.
"I want to see how long you survive."
A gust of wind swept between them. And just like that—
He was gone.
As if he had never been there.
Liora staggered back, gripping her wrist, her heart slamming in her chest.
What the hell had just happened?
By the time Liora stumbled back to her apartment, her mind was a warzone.
The mark on her wrist throbbed, like a second heartbeat buried beneath her skin. No matter how much she rubbed at it, the sigil refused to fade.
Her reflection in the mirror looked wrong.
There were shadows beneath her eyes. The kind that hadn't been there yesterday.
She wasn't changing.
She was remembering.
And that terrified her.
With trembling hands, she turned on the sink, splashing cold water over her face. Breathe. Just breathe.
But as she looked up—
Her reflection moved.
Not like a trick of the light.
It moved differently.
Liora's heart lurched.
The person in the mirror wasn't her.
It was the woman from her dream.
A queen, staring back at her with golden irises, her expression unreadable.
"Wake up, Liora."
Her voice was her own.
But also—
It wasn't.
The mirror cracked.
Liora stumbled away, the sound ringing in her ears.
This is real.
She wasn't just hallucinating.
Something inside her was waking up.
And it wanted out.
The next day, Liora left her apartment, determined to pretend everything was normal.
She wouldn't let fear control her.
She wouldn't let them win.
But as she stepped into the crowded streets, a terrible feeling crawled down her spine.
She was being watched.
Not by one person.
By many.
Everywhere she turned, eyes followed her. Some flickered too bright, their irises unnatural, like smoldering embers in the night. Others whispered as she passed, voices too low to hear, but their intent clear.
They knew.
They all knew.
This city was no longer hers.
It was theirs.
Liora moved faster, weaving through the crowd, her breath tight in her chest.
She had to get away.
She had to—
A hand grabbed her wrist.
She barely had time to react before she was pulled into an alley, her back slamming against cold brick.
A sharp blade gleamed inches from her throat.
Liora's breath hitched.
Her captor was a man in black, his presence ice-cold, his expression void of emotion. His eyes burned silver, like light trapped beneath frozen glass.
"You should not exist," he said simply.
Liora swallowed.
"And yet, here I am," she shot back, forcing her voice to stay steady.
The man tilted his head, considering. Then, softly—
"Unfortunate."
The knife swung down.
Liora twisted, narrowly dodging the strike, her body moving on instinct. The blade sliced through the air, missing her throat by a breath.
The man moved fast - inhumanly fast.
But as Liora stepped back, her wrist burned again—
And the world tilted.
For a split second, the air warped around her, bending like heatwaves. The man's next strike froze midair, as if time itself had stuttered.
His expression flickered - shock, then calculation.
"Ah," he murmured. "So it's true."
Liora staggered.
She didn't know what had just happened.
She didn't know how she had stopped him.
But he did.
The assassin took a slow step back, his silver eyes narrowing. "The Lords will not let you remain unclaimed for long," he said. "Your existence is an insult to the balance."
His grip tightened on the blade.
"I will correct that mistake."
He lunged.
The game had begun.
Liora had spent her life believing she was just an ordinary girl.
But now—
She was the target of an ancient war.
And the hunt had just begun.
The blade came down.
Liora's instincts screamed. She dropped to the ground, the cold edge missing her throat by a hair. The assassin moved like a shadow, his strikes precise - lethal.
She scrambled back, heart pounding, but the alley walls boxed her in. There was nowhere to run.
The man's silver eyes gleamed. "Struggle all you like. You won't change your fate."
Another strike - this time aimed for her heart.
Move.
Liora threw herself sideways, her shoulder slamming into the wall. Pain lanced through her, but she had no time to react—
The assassin was already pivoting, faster than any human should be.
She was going to die.
And yet—
The mark on her wrist burned.
A sharp, searing heat spread through her veins, as if something inside her had been waiting - watching - dormant no longer.
The moment his knife came down, Liora's hand shot up.
And then—
The air shattered.
A shockwave erupted from her palm, invisible yet undeniable.
The assassin was hurled backward, his body slamming into the opposite wall with a force that cracked the bricks. His blade clattered to the ground.
Liora froze.
What - what was that?
The man coughed, staggering to his feet. For the first time, his expression showed something other than cold detachment.
Amusement.
"Ah." He wiped the blood from his lip, his silver eyes flickering. "The rumors were true. The Sin of Light has returned."
Liora's stomach plummeted.
Sin of Light.
She had heard that before.
In the letter. In her dreams.
In the voice inside her head.
The assassin tilted his head, considering her with renewed interest. "Then I suppose… I should take you alive."
Liora ran.
She didn't think. She just moved.
Liora bolted from the alley, pushing past pedestrians, her breath coming too fast, her pulse roaring.
The assassin was right behind her.
Every time she glanced back, he was closer - unnatural, relentless. He wasn't human. He couldn't be.
And then—
The world lurched.
A hand caught her wrist.
Liora barely had time to gasp before she was yanked sideways, the city blurring around her.
One moment, she was on the crowded streets.
The next—
She was somewhere else.
A dimly lit chamber, lined with tall, velvet curtains and flickering chandeliers. The air smelled of incense and something rich, intoxicating - dangerous.
Her body collided against someone - broad shoulders, a strong grip.
Liora jerked back.
The Lord of Lust smirked down at her.
"Tsk." He clicked his tongue, his golden eyes glittering. "Running around the city, already attracting assassins? You really are troublesome, little heir."
Her stomach flipped.
Not again.
A New Cage
Liora yanked her wrist free, stepping back. "What the hell did you just do?"
The Lord of Lust sighed dramatically, as if saving her life was an inconvenience. "I simply plucked you out of a deadly situation. You're welcome, by the way."
Liora wasn't buying it.
"You were watching me."
He smiled. "Always."
Her blood ran cold.
She turned - the assassin was gone. No trace of the city remained. Just this grand, eerie hall, where shadows flickered like living things.
Liora's hands curled into fists. "Where am I?"
The Lord of Lust strolled toward a throne-like chair, lounging as if he owned the entire world. "Somewhere safe. For now."
Liora's jaw tightened.
She wasn't stupid. She had escaped one predator just to land in another's den.
The Lord of Lust watched her, amused. "You're already beginning to awaken, aren't you?" His voice dropped, smooth as silk. "You felt it back there - the power in your veins. A little taste of what you are."
She swallowed, heart racing. She had felt something. But she couldn't afford to trust this man.
"What do you want from me?" she asked instead.
The Sin Lord's smirk deepened.
"Isn't it obvious?"
He leaned forward, his golden eyes gleaming like a predator's.
"I want you on my side."
The kingdom's war had begun.
Liora was no longer a bystander.
She was a prize.
And every Sin Lord wanted her as their own.
Liora paced the chamber like a caged animal, every muscle in her body still tight with adrenaline.
The Lord of Lust watched her with calm fascination, sipping from a glass of something dark and red. It wasn't wine. She knew that without asking.
"Sit," he said smoothly, patting the velvet seat beside him.
She didn't.
He chuckled, unfazed. "Fine. You can stand. But you'll want to hear this."
"I doubt that."
"You will," he said, his voice velvet-wrapped steel. "Because the assassin who came for you tonight? He wasn't acting alone."
Her eyes narrowed. "Who sent him?"
The Sin Lord tilted his head. "That's the problem, little heir. It could've been any of us."
Liora froze.
"What?"
He rose, slow and languid, like a serpent uncoiling. "You think the Seven Sin Lords stand united?" He laughed. "Darling, we barely tolerate each other. We're bound by ancient law and older curses. But that doesn't stop us from… eliminating threats."
He moved closer.
"You are a threat, Liora. A lost heir. A forgotten queen. Whoever controls you - controls the throne."
Liora's mouth went dry.
"So you're helping me out of… kindness?"
"No," he said, and there was no mockery in his voice this time. "I'm helping you because if one of the others gets to you first, they'll break you."
His golden eyes gleamed. "I'd rather see you shine."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a thin chain made of black velvet and silver thread.
"Wear this," he said.
Liora didn't move.
"What is it?"
"A charm. A mark of protection. It will mask your presence from the others - for a time."
"What's the catch?"
He grinned. "It means you're under my claim."
"No deal."
"Then the next assassin won't miss."
Liora stared at the chain, her thoughts spinning. This wasn't a choice. It was survival.
She took it.
As the clasp clicked shut around her throat, something shifted. Power coiled around her like smoke. Her heart thudded.
The Sin Lord leaned in.
His voice brushed her ear.
"You've just made your first bargain in the Kingdom of Shadows."
Liora had taken the first step down a path she couldn't escape.
Every deal in this world had a price.
And now, the Lord of Lust wasn't the only one hunting her.
The next morning never came.
In the Kingdom of Shadows, time did not obey the rules she'd grown up with. There was no sunrise. No morning birds. Only the endless twilight sky, bleeding crimson and violet like a wound that refused to heal.
Liora stood alone before a massive mirror in one of the Sin Lord's guest chambers - if such a word could even apply to this place. The mirror towered over her, framed in black bone and gold filigree, its surface unnaturally still.
Her reflection didn't look right.
Her hair was longer.
Her eyes, sharper - gold flickering beneath the brown.
The mark on her wrist pulsed faintly, as if in recognition.
She leaned in, breath catching.
And her reflection blinked.
She hadn't.
The mirror fractured. A hairline crack split across the glass, running right over her reflection's heart.
Then came the whisper.
"They broke you once. Don't let them do it again."
Liora staggered back.
The mirror was whole again. Her reflection stared back, unchanged.
But she'd heard it.
The voice was her own - older, colder, laced with power.
The doors burst open.
A young woman in a dark robe stood in the doorway, her eyes downcast. "The Sin Lords have summoned you, my lady."
"Summoned?" Liora echoed, suspicion prickling.
The girl only bowed. "The Council is waiting."
The chamber of judgment was a circle of obsidian thrones, each carved with a different symbol - Flame, Chains, Serpent, Mask, Blade, Eye, and Crown.
The Seven sat like gods before her.
The Lord of Lust lounged in his seat, as always, watching her like a flame he couldn't wait to fan.
The others… were less welcoming.
The Lord of Wrath, massive and scarred, stared at her like she was prey.
The Lady of Envy toyed with a green jewel, her smile venomous.
And at the farthest end—
The Lord of Pride.
He sat like a statue, unmoving. Golden armor gleamed on his chest, and a sword as long as Liora was tall rested at his side. He didn't speak. Didn't blink.
But she felt his judgment like a blade at her throat.
The Lord of Lust rose. "She's bound to me. No one touches her."
"She is ours," the Lady of Envy snapped. "She bears the mark. You have no sole claim."
"She hasn't made her Oath," the Lord of Wrath growled. "Until then, she is fair game."
Liora's voice cut through the rising tension.
"What Oath?"
The room stilled.
The Lord of Pride finally looked at her. "The Oath of Return. If you are truly the lost queen, you must swear before us."
"And if I don't?"
The Lady of Envy smiled with too many teeth.
"Then you remain prey."
A blade was offered. Silver. Ceremonial. Ancient.
Liora took it.
The Sin Lords waited, watching as she drew it across her palm.
The blood that welled up wasn't red.
It shimmered gold.
Gasps echoed.
The Lord of Wrath stood. "It's true. The blood of the throne."
The Lord of Lust stepped forward, his gaze burning.
"You can no longer hide, little heir."
Liora's blood dripped onto the obsidian floor, sizzling as it touched the stone.
The pact was made.
Whether she liked it or not, the kingdom had claimed her.
And somewhere, deep beneath the city, something old began to wake.
The Queen had returned.
But the throne was not empty.
And someone - something - was already sitting in her place.