Chapter One

  'I write to you today with my heart in my hands, and with my choice already made. There was no hope for me anymore. No matter how hard I tried, I could still see his sweet eyes looking back at me, and although I could never hold him in my arms, he haunts my dreams. Hearing that they were looking for me has made me realize that the time has come. There's no other option for me to take, and I think you know this very well because you were my teacher. You too wished for revenge and gave me what I needed to execute it. I would have wished for a thousand years more besides you my friend. But there is no way back, and I must face the fiends who've chased me endlessly. I thank you and I truly do love you.'

  She walked past people as normally as she could trying her best not to arouse suspicion. It wasn't too hard as no one paid her any attention. Everyone was rejoicing in a never before seen pride and she had yet to realize what it was they were celebrating but when she did, it had been the push she needed to condemn everyone, even the innocent.

  She did not feel sorrow, there was no other way, she had attempted to think of different ways but this celebration clouded her thoughts and it made her make her decision.

  The distant sounds of screaming never reached her ears as she made her way through every street. Her sole objective was absolute death to everyone protected by His Highness, be it the innocent or the guilty. The flames rose higher with every step. Eventually, not a single cry was replaced by the crackling of burning homes and falling debris.

  The capital was dying, paying the price for being deceived by their King.

  Undeterred, the Witch pressed forward, ignoring even the children who clung to her dress, begging her to stop. She looked down at them, but her lifeless eyes looked beyond. She no longer saw them as the children they were, and she couldn't hear their screams imploring her to stop. All she did was let the fire rise from beneath their feet and consume them. She continued her walk, long forgetting the bodies.

  With each step, fire ascended to the skies, showcasing patience and elegance. In the midst of the blue skies, she appeared like a delicate raven—out of place, cursed, and hated by the people. There was no mercy; she was never meant to be merciful. Her desire was for them to cry and scream, to feel the pain she had endured for so many years. Yet, this could barely compare to what The King had done.

  Ensuring everything in her sight was consumed by her flames, when the people united and reached her in attempt to kill her, there was no fight even; as soon as their eyes met, her flames engulfed them.

  Leaving the capital city, where thousands of homes had turned to ashes, she finally reached the path leading to the church and the palace where His Highness resided. She was ready, and nothing could stop her. This was the choice The Gods made for her when they abandoned her. She was done with the pain inflicted upon her.

  Her first stop was the church. It was as if she cursed them with a malevolent rite where each movement ignited the church into an inferno. She mocked the church and their rituals, desiring to strip away their faith, to render it all meaningless. She wanted to make them believe that she was more worthy than any God they worshipped. If only they had shown a bit of kindness, perhaps they could've been spared. A speck of humanity; and salvation might have been theirs.

  The echoing bells were now silent amidst the burning screams, she let the discordance die down, allowing the weight of the silence to settle. The city's cries had been short-lived; she'd been merciful, knowing they'd never recognize their allegiance to a Greedy King as their sin. Yet, her mercy didn't extend to the church; she let them slowly burn and their screams lasted the longest .

  Moving towards her next destination, She could see from afar that the knights were forming a barrier before the golden adorned gates. Their orders were clear—to protect His Majesty’s palace rather than aid the capital's people. She couldn't help think that if he had sent the knights to go against her, instead of having them all protect the palace then, she would have doubted her entire plan and would have let the people go.

  But he didn't, and regret was a futile emotion.

  Weapons raised, insults hurled, and warnings flung—every step brought a new barrage. The captain stepped forth for the first strike, but weapons fell, and he crumpled to his knees, disheveled. Leaning down, she whispered words only he heard, prompting a guttural shout that echoed through the skies.

  'Neriza!' Her name echoed as lightning and thunder danced in the skies. The blue skies long gone.

  His body trembled with anger and fear, halting any further advances. The torment began. Flames rose from the ground, consuming him in shrieks that shattered the renewed silence.

  The knights hesitated, some charging towards them, others fleeing, yet none escaped her—flames wrapped around them. Mercy found no place in her heart, and the flames seized those attempting escape, pulling them back to join the burning field. A macabre dance, orchestrated with ruthless precision.

  Taking her time, she left none untouched. Once silence reclaimed dominance, her journey recommenced. Inside the gate, she turned, witnessing the sea of flames trailing her. A broken smile graced her lips as she knelt, touching the rapidly melting snow, welcoming the water she now needed. Flames subsided, and rain poured.

  The flames resisted full extinguishment, persisting even when touched by raindrops.

  The once-breathtaking palace, once loved, now lay wrecked—her havoc wrought upon all within.

  The exhaustion she felt surprised her. Her revenge conceived over years felt lacking. Death came swiftly and the pain was brief—nothing compared to her endless years of suffering. Regret lingered, but the damage was irreversible. Anger fueled her again, not just at them, but at herself—for making her pain seem so easily repaid.

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  A sharp pain in the ribs warned her . The barrier over the capital was being impaled. Only Prince Kaiser, Duke of the North, possessed the strength. She stood straight again regaining composure, knowing where she had to go.

  Drenched in rain, she untied her cloak, revealing the now soaked elegant red dress . It didn't suit her at all.

  A trail followed her, no longer of flames but an illusion of blood. Passing the garden and labyrinth adorned in red roses, the dress dragged, and the trail expanded. The snowy ground transformed into a sea of blood, bodies seemingly adrift.

  Lifting her dress slightly, her barefoot revealed as she ascended the steps, each tainted with the endless river of blood. The pool seemed endless, threatening to reach the forest. Turning back, the capital lay in flames, not a soul surviving. Fear emanated from the entrance, behind closed doors. A touch, and the door opened slightly but importantly silently.

  Voices drew closer, forcing Neriza to quicken her steps. She reached the concealed door beneath the stairs. Time was of the essence; Prince Kaiser would soon dismantle the barrier. She had strategically imbued it with enough power so that its destruction would serve as a warning. Ascending the stairs behind the walls, Neriza paused to listen to a panicked voice — a lone maid with endless prayers.

  As she stepped out, the maid, instead of screaming in fear, fell to her knees, pleading for mercy. Trembling under the weight of guilt, the maid's body betrayed her.

  "Petra," Neriza, the Witch, uttered in a deceptively gentle voice that could be mistaken for forgiveness. Their eyes met, and this time, Petra couldn't contain her scream. The Witch wore a sinister smile, her eyes completely black. The maid's scream summoned the others, and the palace echoed with a chorus of terror.

  Footsteps and screams reverberated, creating an unsettling symphony within the palace. The maid on the floor begged for the haunting to cease, but mercy was a luxury The Witch wouldn't afford anyone in the palace.

  Pain hit her ribs, a consequence of the barrier's impact. Fatigued by the situation, she decided to end it. Without uttering a word, the maid screamed again, crying blood. The horror escalated as she choked and coughed, blood streaming intensely from every opening. Her life force flowed towards The Witch, who absorbed it. Other maids and knights met the same fate, trailing their blood toward her.

  The intensified sounds gave way to an eerie silence, only broken by the subtle inhale of breath. The new blood infused The Witch with the strength needed to conclude her mission.

  Pushing open the large doors , she entered the room with a chilling certainty, fully aware that she was stepping into the heart of the King's domain. The sight that awaited her was nothing short of gruesome – a grotesque image that bespoke the King's cruelty. The throne, once a symbol of power and majesty, now served as a macabre stage.

  The King, drenched in the blood of his Queen, sat callously, using her lifeless body as a footstool. His shoes, stained and dirty, left an indelible mark on her. The atmosphere reeked of brutality, with every step she took revealing more horrors – a stark contrast to the grandeur the room once held.

  "You made it," the King's voice, strong and dominant, resonated — the same voice that had haunted her for years.

  So much she wished to say, so much pain she wished him to feel, but she reverted to the ignorant girl he had suppressed.

  Another wave of pain engulfed her, this time striking her heart. The barrier was fully broken, and Prince Kaiser would breach the door within minutes.

  In the dimly lit Royal Hall, adorned with tarnished tapestries and flickering candles, the air hung heavy with the scent of decay. The oppressive atmosphere intensified as the King taunted her vulnerability, relishing in the dim glow of the dying candlelight.

  "If only I had let you keep that boy. What was it you called him? Neriah?"

  The room seemed to shrink, shadows dancing eerily on the faded walls. Something in her shattered. The last strand of humanity snapped at the mention of his name.

  A burst of power impacted everyone, even those beyond the barrier. The Witch, gripping the King by the neck, cried blood tears, but he only smiled. It wasn't affecting him. The room echoed with a somber symphony, a dissonant blend of anguish and perverse amusement.

  She realized then that he had embraced death, finding amusement in her anger and pain. He denied her the satisfaction of killing the Queen.

  The frayed tapestries on the walls seemed to mock the agony that unfolded within.

  Releasing her grip, she fell into defeat. He was quick and pulled her onto the throne, holding her close, just like the first time, whispering words of love.

  Finally, after what felt like eternity, Prince Kaiser burst in with his knights, ready for war. Yet, he encountered the perplexing scene of a Loving King and The Defeated Witch.

  The King commanded no one to move. Standing proud, he set The Witch on the throne, welcoming his son with open arms. Unbeknownst to him, a trail of blood followed his steps, staining the tattered rugs that adorned the cold stone floor.

  Prince Kaiser, vigilant, saw The Witch rise and run toward the King. He threw his sword with such force that it hit her, trapping her on the throne. The flickering candles cast ominous shadows on the walls, as if the very chamber recoiled from the unfolding tragedy. Other knights followed, their swords sealing her fate. Her excessive use of power proved lethal, the room now drenched in an unsettling silence.

  But it was what she desired. If the King refused to suffer her revenge, then she would surrender, the oppressive air weighing on the room like a heavy shroud.

  Amidst the ensuing silence, the King desperately tried to keep her alive. The Prince, bewildered, witnessed the King attempting to drink her spilled blood and biting into her arm, sucking her life force.

  Someone else entered the room. Her presence was so grand they all fell to the floor and could not stand. She frantically made her way to the throne witnessing the King bite into The Witch's feet. Enraged, she seized the King by the neck and hurled him down the steps. She mumbled words that no one else understood. The once dim candles now cast grotesque shadows as dark figures emerged from the ground, tearing the King apart.

  She caressed The Witch's face and the last thing The Witch ever heard was the woman calling for her, like a mother calls for her child. The Witch died, but it was not the end of it.

  The woman let out a shriek and called The Witch a fool.

  "This isn't the best you could do, and I will not accept this. This pathetic end."

  Unaccepting of the end, she stomped the ground three times, chanting in an unknown language.

  A seismic disturbance ensued. The Prince and knights struggled against the woman's presence. A bright light from the skies enveloped her, casting an otherworldly glow on the grim setting. Rising from the ground, she continued chanting.

  Everything spun, skies parted, and an overwhelming force descended from above. Inexplicable to all, no one was deemed worthy of an explanation.

  "I will grant her another chance, Father. Even if it means my end."

  Those were the only words everyone understood before time halted, and the universe rewound obeying it's childs wish.

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