From Fire to Ash

The Velmont estate was silent as Cesia stepped through its towering gates, the weight of her failure pressing down on her like the heaviest armor. Her father, the Duke of Velmont, awaited her in his study, a room that exuded the same harsh austerity as the man himself.

"You had one task, Cesia," the duke said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Keep the Crown Prince. And you failed."

The words struck harder than any sword. Cesia, standing rigid in the face of his fury, said nothing. What could she say? That she had done her best? That Darion's heart had been lost to someone else? Excuses were meaningless to the Duke of Velmont.

Her silence seemed only to stoke his anger. He stood, the firelight reflecting in his cold gray eyes. "You have disgraced this family, Cesia. The Velmont name is now the subject of ridicule across the kingdom. Do you understand what that means?"

"Yes, Father," she replied, her voice steady despite the tumult inside her.

The duke regarded her for a long moment before delivering her sentence. "You will go to the warfront. Perhaps there, you can redeem what little remains of your worth."

The words were harsh, but Cesia didn't flinch. The battlefield offered a kind of solace. There, she wouldn't have to think about Darion, Lucy, or the future that had been stolen from her.

——

The Velmont Duchy's lineage was intertwined with the fire spirits, their ancestral bond granting them an affinity for pyromancy. For generations, they had produced warriors and mages of unparalleled skill, and Cesia was no exception. From a young age, she had trained in magic, swordsmanship, and combat strategy. She had once imagined these skills would make her a queen worthy of standing beside the Crown Prince. Now, they were all she had left.

The soldiers who served under her command quickly came to revere and fear her. On the battlefield, she was known as the Harbinger of Flames, a warrior whose presence spelled doom. Cesia alone turned the tide of battles, her fiery magic cutting through ranks with devastating precision.

But though her body fought with unyielding strength, her mind remained heavy with memories. At night, when the fires died down and silence crept over the camp, she couldn't escape the thoughts of Darion and Lucy. Their laughter, their stolen glances, their entwined hands—images she could never erase.

….

Years passed in this relentless cycle of war and heartbreak, until one fateful night. Word reached her camp that a grand wedding was being held in the capital. Darion and Lucy were to be married today.

Cesia tried to block out the news, but it lingered in her mind like an ember refusing to extinguish. She buried herself in the battle that night, channeling every ounce of her anguish into her flames.

But her focus wavered.

Her opponent, a mercenary from the enemy's side, was relentless. Her strikes were calculated, her movements precise. For the first time, Cesia faltered. Her mind wandered, imagining the life she had once dreamed of—the life that was never hers to have.

The hesitation was brief, but it was enough.

Her enemy's blade found its mark, piercing her chest with cold, unforgiving steel.

Cesia's breath hitched as the pain seared through her, her flames flickering and dying around her. She stumbled, her sword slipping from her grasp, as blood seeped from the wound.

As her vision blurred, she looked up at the night sky. The stars seemed so far away, shrouded by mist and smoke.

Cesia collapsed onto the blood-soaked ground, her fingers twitching weakly against the hilt of her fallen sword. The chill of the night seeped into her bones, and the once-roaring battlefield around her seemed to fade into a distant murmur.

A wave of emotions crashed over her—regret for a life wasted chasing an illusion, sorrow for the love that had never been returned, and anger at the injustice of it all.

Her vision blurred as tears mingled with the blood staining her face. She could feel her life slipping away, the fire that had burned so brightly within her flickering into embers. But in those fleeting moments, a vision formed in her mind, vivid and all-consuming.

She saw herself waking in an opulent chamber, sunlight streaming through gilded windows. The voices of maids echoed as they bustled around her, bowing and addressing her as "Your Highness." She felt their hands adjusting her silken gown, their voices filled with reverence.

In this dream, she was not Cesia Velmont, the scorned daughter of velmont sent to die in disgrace. She was a princess—the heir to the enemy kingdom she had once fought against.

This was her second chance.

She envisioned herself rising from the ashes, stronger and more ruthless than ever. Her heart, once soft and trusting, was now hardened into steel. The kingdom that had cast her aside would tremble before her might.

She saw herself leading her newfound nation into battle, crushing the forces of her former home beneath her heel. She saw Darion and Lucy on their knees before her, their faces pale with terror as they begged for mercy.

Cesia, standing tall and unyielding, delivered the final blow, cutting them down with the same blade that had plunged into her heart.

Victory was hers.

….

the vision began to fade, like smoke dissipating into the night air.

Reality seeped back in, cruel and unrelenting. Her body lay broken on the battlefield, surrounded by the carnage of war. Blood pooled beneath her, staining the earth in deep crimson. The cold mist settled over her, the stars above indifferent to her plight.

Her golden eyes, once filled with dreams of love and ambition, stared blankly at the sky.

"It seems… this is the end, not as a queen, not as a hero, but as a failure." Cesia thought, a bitter smile curling on her lips. "I guess this is a fitting end for a villainess, 

…ha."

Her heart gave its final, feeble beat, and the fire that had defined her life was extinguished.