The world was silent. The kind of silence that presses against your chest, heavy and unfamiliar, as though the air itself had forgotten how to breathe.
Lysandra blinked, her golden eyes adjusting to the dim light of a small, windowless room. Cold stone walls surrounded her, and the scent of damp earth lingered in the air.
Where am I?
She reached up to touch her face, feeling the smoothness of youthful skin. Her hands were smaller delicate, trembling slightly as they brushed against the unfamiliar clothes that clung to her body. This was not the body of the Empress she had been.
It was the body of someone else.
She sat up quickly, a surge of panic rushing through her veins. Her breath caught in her throat. Memories flooded back the trial, the betrayal, the flames and then… darkness.
But it wasn't darkness anymore.
Her gaze fell upon the rough, wooden door ahead of her. It was locked. The room felt small and cramped, as though it was meant for someone of little importance.
An orphan?
The thought hit her like a blow. This was not the life she had lived before, but it was hers now. The moment she had cursed her enemies with her dying breath, the heavens had heard. They had returned her reborn, yes but not as the Empress she had been.
This time, she was powerless.
For now.
Lysandra stood and moved toward the door, her bare feet making no sound on the cold stone floor. Her new body felt weak, unaccustomed to movement. She had to force herself to push through the dizziness, the disorientation, and the strange sense of being lost.
Her mind was sharp, though. Her soul burned with vengeance.
They think I am dead. They think they've won.
Her lips curled into a cold smile.
But they were wrong.
---
Outside the door, she could hear muffled voices, a conversation too distant to make out. Someone was near. A slight rustle of movement. She moved silently toward the door, instinct telling her to stay hidden, to listen.
"Is she awake yet?" a voice asked, low and wary.
Another voice, rougher, replied, "No, she's still unconscious. But she'll be fine. Once we get her cleaned up, she'll be useful."
Lysandra's blood boiled. Useful?
Her heart pounded as the voices drew closer. There was no time for hesitation. No time to question what had happened or how she had gotten here.
She was a weapon now. And she would use every moment, every scrap of knowledge, to regain the power she had lost.
Slowly, she moved to the window, her fingers brushing against the cold stone. Her eyes narrowed as she searched the sky. It was dusk. Faint pinks and oranges streaked across the horizon as though the sun was setting on the old world and rising on the new.
The first step is always the hardest, she thought.
But she had no fear. Not anymore.
I will rise from the ashes. And they will all burn.