It wasn't the fire that killed her.
It was the betrayal.
Her last breath carried hatred, regret, and the cold clarity of truth: no one would ever mourn her.
She had been clever, loyal, dangerous but never cruel.
They made her a villain, and now they'd celebrate her execution.
Her eyes never left Lucien, even as the flames crept higher. Even as pain swallowed her.
"Remember me," she thought,
"when your kingdom burns the way I did."
Darkness took her.
Cold. Empty. Final.
But then
light.
She opened her eyes to sunlight.
Not fire. Not chains.
A bed. A window. Warmth.
A bird chirped outside.
For a moment, Evelyne couldn't move. Was this a dream?
Then her gaze fell on the mirror across the room.
The girl who stared back was younger. Softer. Unscathed.
She stumbled forward, touched the glass.
"No scars. No blood. No chains..."
And then her breath caught.
She knew this day.
This was ten years ago.
Before her death.
Before her engagement.
Before everything.