---
The Imperial Ballroom shimmered again — not with celebration this time, but with tension. Tonight's event was one of alliances, hosted under the guise of a diplomatic gathering. Nobles from all seven major houses had arrived, dressed in gleaming robes, their expressions rehearsed.
Seraphina stood at the top of the stairs in crimson. No mask. No veil. Just raw power in her eyes, framed by a crown of obsidian thorns — a subtle declaration: The villainess is no longer hiding.
Beside her stood Kael, ever silent. Behind her, the divine beast curled like a shadow under the pillars, its eyes trained on the guests.
And among those guests… the three Male Leads.
— Riven of House Draeven: the swordmaster with a scarred past and ties to the rebellion.
— Eren of House Leclare: the charming diplomat, sharp-tongued and double-faced.
— Lucien of the Holy Temple: light-magic prodigy, cold and calculating.
Each of them had once aligned with Elowen in the storybook.
But tonight, Seraphina planned to change the script.
---
She descended, her heels striking the marble like drumbeats. Conversations hushed.
"I offer a single dance," she said loud enough for the hall to hear, "to the one who proves they know me best."
It was a test.
And they knew it.
Riven stepped forward first. "You hate honeyed wine. You drink black tea, unsweetened."
Seraphina gave a faint smile. "Impressive."
Eren was next. "You sleep with a dagger beneath your pillow. Curved, not straight — to slash, not stab."
"True."
Lucien didn't approach. He merely said, "You don't need a dance. You need a war council."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting," she said, pausing before Riven.
"I suppose you've earned this," she offered her hand.
He took it.
As they danced, swordsman and empress, their bodies moved like coiled predators. Riven's voice dropped low.
"You know the nobles are watching for a mistake."
"I know," Seraphina replied. "Let them watch. I want them to see what's coming."
Riven's hand tightened slightly. "Do you trust me?"
"No," she said. "But I respect how well you lie."
He chuckled.
Across the ballroom, Elowen stood in soft blue, watching — her hands clenched behind her back. She was surrounded by her usual entourage… but something in her eyes had changed.
Fear.
For the first time, she was losing control of the narrative.
---
Later that night, Seraphina received a letter — no seal.
Inside: a single phrase.
"You've awakened something dangerous. Stop now."
She burned it without flinching.
Let them come.
She wasn't the villainess anymore.
She was the storm.
---