ELLE
The cathedral was burning with light.
The great doors stood open, and every noble, soldier, and priest gathered before the altar as Saint Elle lifted her trembling hands.
They expected her blessing.
Her voice carried over the echoing chamber — calm, clear, and utterly hollow.
“May the Light purify the wicked,” she recited. “May the false moon drown beneath the sun.”
The words burned her throat.
She felt the High Cleric’s gaze on her — cold, calculating.
He thought she was still theirs.
But as she spoke, the sun sigil at the altar pulsed faintly — not gold, but red.
A warning. A corruption.
And Elle realized something the others did not: the Light they worshipped was already beginning to devour itself.
Outside, soldiers cheered as the Church banners unfurled.
The Army of the Radiant Cross began its march toward the northern valley — where moonlight and rebellion awaited.
Elle watched them go, her heart heavy.
---
SERA
We reached the valley before dawn.
Fog clung to the marsh like a living thing — soft, silver, and strange.
The air felt charged, every breath humming with magic.
Auren stood beside me, his cloak snapping in the cold wind.
The silver mark on his wrist shimmered faintly beneath the glove.
“They’re coming,” he murmured. “Can you feel it?”
I nodded. “Like a heartbeat beneath the ground.”
He looked at me then — truly looked — and smiled faintly. “That’s because this land remembers you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Kingdom of Shadows stood here once. Kaelith built his first citadel on this soil. The moonfire still sleeps beneath it.”
“The what?”
“Not fire,” he said. “Not light. It’s the will of the Moon itself — the last remnant of balance. It obeys only truth.”
“And will it obey us?”
He turned his hand over, letting the faint glow bleed from his palm. “You carry the Lunar Crest. If anyone can call it, it’s you.”
I stared at him, heart pounding. “You’re not serious—”
Before I could finish, the sound of horns split the air.
The Church’s army appeared on the ridge — endless banners of gold and white stretching to the horizon.
The sun glinted off their armor, blinding against the gray sky.
Drums rolled like thunder.
Adrian barked orders to the troops below. “Archers, take position! Flood line ready on my mark!”
Theo stood beside him, clutching the signal horn, his face pale but determined.
My father — the Duke — rode forward on horseback, the Valeria crest blazing across his armor.
“Stand firm!” he roared. “They call us heretics — then let them see what faith we bleed for!”
The soldiers cheered.
I turned to Auren. “Now or never.”
He nodded once. “Call it.”
I pressed my palm against the earth. The Lunar Crest burned through my skin.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then —
The ground shuddered.
Water began to rise from the riverbeds, twisting and spiraling into silver threads that danced in the air.
The sky dimmed as if the moon itself had hidden behind the clouds.
Auren raised his hands, weaving the spell that shaped the current. The water bent to his will — wild, alive, glowing faintly with that strange, ethereal light.
The flood came like a living serpent, rushing toward the valley.
The Church’s army never saw it coming.
Their horses screamed. Their cannons sank. Gold-clad soldiers flailed as the marsh turned to quickmud, dragging them down.
Lightning flashed — but it wasn’t lightning. It was moonfire.
Silver light exploded across the valley, reflecting off every drop of rain.
For a moment, the night itself looked alive.
Auren’s magic flared beside me — dark and furious, dancing with the silver glow of mine. Our energies collided, intertwined.
The flood swallowed the Church’s vanguard.
When it was over, silence fell. Only the rain remained — and the soft hum of power lingering in the air.
I turned to Auren, panting. “We did it.”
He smiled faintly. “You did it.”
But even as he spoke, his expression darkened.
“What?” I asked.
He looked toward the horizon. “This was only the first army. The Church never moves alone.”
---
LUCIEN
In the palace war room, Prince Lucien stood before the archives.
The Queen had sent him to retrieve the old royal line records — relics of a time before Solaria’s founding.
But what he found made his blood run cold.
The ancient ledger was sealed with both the royal sigil and the sun sigil — the mark of the Church.
He broke the seal.
The ink inside was faded, but legible:
By decree of the Sun Clergy, the blood of Kaelith Auren is to be erased. The throne of Solaria henceforth belongs to the Light. The heirs of the Shadows are to be hunted, their names forbidden, their lineage expunged.
Lucien stared at the page until his vision blurred.
Kaelith Auren.
Auren.
The name echoed in his mind, cold and merciless.
The man he’d dismissed as a rogue — the one who haunted the prince’s every political whisper — wasn’t just a rebel.
He was the rightful heir.
And Lucien — son of a stolen crown — was sitting on borrowed power.
---
SERA
The flood receded by dawn.
The valley was a graveyard of drowned banners and broken faith.
We stood at the ridge, the silver glow still fading from the water.
Auren’s hand brushed mine — fleeting, grounding. “The balance is shifting,” he murmured.
Below us, the survivors of the Church’s army stumbled through the mud, retreating.
The first victory was ours.
But even as the sunlight broke through the clouds, I felt no warmth.
Because somewhere in the distance, bells began to ring again — deeper, louder, desperate.
The Church would not forgive this.
And neither, I suspected, would the Crown.
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Resetting The Villainess
Fantasy[COMPLETE] I died from overwork and woke up as the empire's most spoiled villainess-Lady Seraphina Valeria. In the novel, she was executed for trying to poison the saintly heroine. I have no plans of dying again, thank you very much. My new plan? Av...
