Resetting The Villainess

They called it a Divine Inquiry.
But anyone with eyes could see what it truly was — a performance.

The great cathedral of Solaria glittered with false piety.
Golden banners hung from the vaulted ceiling, incense coiled through the air, and every noble who mattered was seated to watch the show.

And I was the star.

The accused heretic.

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I stood in the center aisle, the marble cold beneath my heels. I’d chosen a gown of deep black — not mourning, but defiance. Its silk shimmered faintly with silver thread that caught the light like tempered steel.

If they wanted a villain, I’d give them one dressed for the role.

At the far end of the cathedral, beneath a mosaic of the Divine’s radiant hand, sat the High Cleric — draped in embroidered gold.
And beside him stood the Saint herself.

Elle.

She glowed, of course. Every strand of her blonde hair seemed touched by sunlight. Even her silence felt blessed.

I wondered if anyone else noticed the way the light favored her — or if that too was just another miracle crafted for applause.

“Lady Seraphina Valeria,” the High Cleric began, “you stand accused of violating sacred law. You have dared to create a device that imitates the Divine’s miracles. Speak your defense.”

I lifted my chin. “It’s not divine,” I said evenly. “It’s mana, refined through crystal resonance. No different from the lamps that light your temple halls.”

A murmur swept through the pews.

The Cleric’s expression tightened. “You mock what you do not understand.”

“On the contrary,” I said. “I understand all too well.”

The crowd inhaled sharply.

The High Cleric’s staff struck marble. “Blasphemy!”

“Logic,” I corrected, my voice calm.

From the upper balcony, I could see the Crown Prince watching me — still as carved stone.
He didn’t look angry.
Just... intrigued.

And beside him, my older brother Adrian looked ready to leap over the railing and drag me out himself.

But my gaze drifted back to the dais — to Elle.

When she finally spoke, her voice carried like a song.

“Lady Valeria,” she said, soft and sweet, “perhaps you don’t understand the line between creation and desecration. Miracles are gifts of the Divine. What you’ve done… it blurs what is sacred.”

Her tone was patient, sympathetic — so perfect it almost sounded rehearsed.

I smiled faintly. “If the Divine didn’t want us to use our minds, why give them to us?”

That earned me another round of gasps.
Even the Prince’s eyes widened slightly.

Elle’s serene smile didn’t move, but I saw the faintest tremor in her fingers. “You mistake arrogance for enlightenment.”

“And you mistake worship for wisdom,” I said quietly.

Her composure faltered — just for a second.

It was enough.

From the royal box, the Crown Prince of Solaria leaned forward, one gloved hand pressed to his chin.