Azalea_Belrose

Her childhood was forged in shadows, and she was sharpened into a weapon, trained to be a ghost, a killer, an instrument of vengeance. The target: a decorated general whose face haunted her every nightmare, the man who tore her world apart.

But just as the final strike neared… the world shattered.

She woke in a savage, ancient realm where kings ruled with iron fists and war devoured the innocent. Her body? That of a thirteen-year-old. Her fate? Sold to traffickers, bound for hell by a family member's design.

Big mistake.

They expected a victim. She gave them hell. Every brutal lesson, every violent instinct...she unleashed them all and carved her way to freedom.

In the depths of that strange, dangerous world, she met a reclusive martial arts master, one whose power defied reason, whose teachings broke her and rebuilt her again.

But nothing could prepare her for the revelation that came next:

The man she was born to kill... was here. In this world. And he was her father. By blood. By fate.

The General!

Then, deep in the wilds of Mount Ourea, she saved a dying soldier from the clutches of Hades. But he wasn’t just a soldier. He was a prince, the heir to a kingdom, but deprived of his birthright.  He was wounded on a secret mission to crush the rebels tearing his kingdom apart.

To the prince, she was:
A woman disguised as a man.
A healer who knew the way of the sword.
A mystery wrapped in secrets and shadows.
The most intriguing enigma of his life.

Will she be the weapon they made her—or the legend she was born to become?

Return of the General's Daughter

Lara sipped her tea with deliberate calm, the delicate porcelain warm against her fingers. She nibbled on the pastries, their sweetness muted by the bitterness rising at the back of her throat. Across from her, Mira sparkled like a polished gemstone—chatty, animated, a natural charmer. Her voice lilted with laughter and exaggerated expressions as she recounted tales clearly crafted to amuse.

Princess Ceres was enthralled. She leaned in eagerly, delighting in every word Mira offered. They seemed to speak in a private language of flattery and pretense. Meanwhile, Lara remained the quiet observer, her presence uninvited in their lively duet.

After a while, she set down her teacup with a soft clink and gently cut through Mira's story.

"Princess, Mira," she said, her voice faint. "I don't feel well. I think I need to lie down for a bit."

The princess and Mira exchanged a swift, knowing glance—too quick to be innocent.

Boomerang