IvyScript

In a world where fate is as unforgiving as it is inevitable, Evelynn Thorn, a notorious villainess, finds herself caught in a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth. Each time she dies, she is reincarnated into the same world, forced to repeat the tragic story of betrayal, vengeance, and heartache that sealed her fate the first time. But this time, Evelynn is done with playing the part of the villain.

Refusing to succumb to the same tragic end again, Evelynn sets out to rewrite her story. Armed with the knowledge of her past lives and a burning desire to change her fate, she navigates the treacherous political schemes, toxic alliances, and forbidden romances that once led her to ruin. But as she challenges the forces that control her destiny, Evelynn learns that not all is as it seems. Could it be that someone—or something—is orchestrating her repeated deaths?

Now, with every new life, Evelynn's power grows, and she begins to unravel the dark secrets of the world she was once destined to destroy. Will she emerge as a hero, or will she finally break the cycle of death and become something even darker than the villain she was meant to be?

The Villainess Refuses to Die Again

They dressed her in white for the execution.

Not because it was tradition. Not because it was merciful.

But because it would make the blood more poetic.

Lady Evelynn Thorn stood on the scaffold, wrists bound with enchanted silver, her head held high even as her knees trembled. The icy wind cut through her thin gown, but she didn't flinch. Let them watch. Let them all watch.

Below her, the crowd buzzed like insects—eager, loud, and blind. Nobles who once toasted to her brilliance now whispered gleefully behind jeweled fans. Commoners who'd never met her shouted curses like they knew her sins. And at the highest balcony of the palace stood the man who had betrayed her most.

He wore full regalia, gold and crimson shining beneath the winter sun. Hands clasped behind his back, face carved from ice.

Evelynn searched his eyes for a flicker of guilt.

A month ago, he had kissed her under moonlight and promised her forever.

A week ago, he accused her of treason.

He would watch her die like she was nothing.

The priest began his speech. Something about honor, duty, justice. The words blurred into static as Evelynn stared at the crowd, her chest burning with rage. She had been loyal. She had been perfect. And they still turned on her.

Her maid had cried when they dragged Evelynn from her cell.

"Run, my lady," she whispered. "You don't deserve this."

But Evelynn had smiled, even then. "No," she said. "Not yet. Let them kill me properly."

A sharp clink echoed across the square as the executioner raised his sword.

"This is your justice?" she said, her voice calm. "Fine. Let it be written in blood."

Her last thought was not of sorrow.

You have returned to Year 498, Day 64: The Winter Gala.

She bolted upright, drenched in sweat, lungs dragging in breath like she'd been drowning. Her hands flew to her neck. No blood. No blade. No rope.

She blinked. Music floated in the distance. Perfume clung to silk sheets. A familiar mirror caught her reflection—wide eyes, unblemished skin, not a day past seventeen.

She staggered to her feet, heart thundering, mind racing.

But there it was—proof in the softness of her skin, the warmth of her breath, and the echo of memories that hadn't happened yet.

"This time," she murmured, eyes glinting like ice, "I won't beg. I won't cry. I won't die."

Prologue