Md_Alamin_1251

Three hundred years ago, Princess Mira Elowen was burned at the stake—accused of witchcraft, cursed blood, and defying the royal order. But as the flames devoured her body, she made a chilling vow:

"I shall return—not as your princess, but as your reckoning."

Now, in a quiet village far from the capital, a healer’s apprentice named Eira begins to have terrifying dreams of fire, betrayal, and blood-soaked crowns. Her golden eyes, once ordinary, now burn with memories she doesn’t recognize. And when a dying priest calls her "Your Highness", her world begins to unravel.

Reborn in a new body, Mira must navigate a kingdom that has forgotten her—but her vengeance is not forgotten. With ancient enemies in power, buried secrets resurfacing, and a mysterious prince who may be her greatest enemy or her only salvation, she must reclaim what was stolen from her...

Rise OF THE Cursed Queen

The forest was unusually quiet that morning.

No birds sang. No breeze stirred the branches. Only silence. Heavy and watching.

Eira walked cautiously through the woods behind her cottage, drawn by an invisible pull. Something had changed. Something was calling to her.

She hadn't told Maerin about the glowing rune last night. Nor about the reflection that had spoken her name—Mira Elowen. It felt insane. And yet, deep in her bones, she knew it wasn't a dream.

A memory clawing its way back from the grave.

Suddenly, a low, haunting sound echoed through the trees—a horn.

Not from the village. It was royal.

She ducked behind a fallen log and waited, heart racing. Moments later, armored horses emerged from the fog, their silver-plated hooves silent on the forest floor.

At the head rode a man dressed in black and crimson, his dark cloak billowing behind him like smoke. He didn't wear a crown, but the royal sigil gleamed on his shoulder — the Phoenix Crest.

The same crest she had seen in her dreams.

He pulled the reins as if sensing her presence. His horse turned slowly, golden eyes flickering in the mist.

No… not golden. Amber. But familiar. Too familiar.

He dismounted with grace, tall and poised like someone used to command. His face was sharp, carved by authority and loss. He looked no older than twenty-three, but his gaze felt ancient.

Then, as if knowing exactly where she was, he spoke aloud—

"You don't have to hide, Lady Mira."

Every instinct screamed to run—but her legs wouldn't move.

He turned toward her, unfazed. "It really is you," he said softly. "Three hundred years, and yet… your eyes haven't changed."

Eira blinked. "You… you know me?"

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I knew you before your bones turned to ash. And now, you've returned, just as the prophecy said."

"The Queen of Fire shall rise when the cursed flame is lit anew. Her soul will return to the land that burned her, and with her return… comes reckoning."

He stepped closer. "Caius Ashbourne. Prince of Thorne. Descendant of the very king who ordered your death."

Cold wind swept through the trees, carrying the weight of his words.

"So you're the heir of the man who murdered me."

"Yes," he said, eyes solemn. "And I may be the only one who can help you survive what's coming."

Eira stood alone before the ancient ruins hidden beyond the village—ruins she had never seen before, but her feet had found them with certainty.

In the moonlight, she traced the broken stone altar at its center.

And in the distance, hidden in the shadow of trees, Prince Caius watched silently, his sword unsheathed.

But for those who would kill her again.

The Prince in the Fog