Rebirth of the Phantom Empress

**Chapter 20 – The Gathering Tempest**

The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth, the lingering aftermath of a recent rainstorm. The distant aroma of burning lantern oil wafted through the open window of Selene's room, mingling with the cool breeze that carried the faint hum of nocturnal insects. Selene stood at the threshold, her silhouette framed by the pale moonlight streaming in. The Ravencourt manor, once a symbol of unshakable security and opulent wealth, now felt like a battlefield—its polished veneer masking the unseen forces clashing beneath its surface.

Her fingers twitched at her sides as she exhaled slowly, focusing on the faint hum beneath her skin—the growing pulse of magic she could no longer ignore. It was awakening, creeping into her bones, whispering to her in the dead of night. Each day, it grew stronger, more insistent, as if answering a call she had yet to fully comprehend. It was no longer a flicker or a fleeting sensation. It was a presence, alive and restless, waiting for her to seize it.

Selene flexed her hands, summoning the feeling again. It was elusive, flickering between presence and absence, like a candle struggling against the wind. But it was there. And it was hers. She could feel it now, a low thrum in her veins, a spark of something ancient and untamed. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, a reminder of the power she had once thought lost forever.

---

**A Meeting in the Shadows**

She had barely closed her eyes, attempting to steady her thoughts, when the knock came. Three sharp raps against the wooden door—deliberate, urgent.

Selene didn't bother with pretence. She rose smoothly from the edge of her bed, her movements fluid and unhurried, and stepped across the cold stone floor to unfasten the lock. The door creaked open to reveal Tarek, his broad frame filling the doorway. His expression was unreadable in the dim corridor, the flickering torchlight casting shadows across his sharp features.

"Come," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "It's time."

She needed no further instruction. Shrugging on her cloak, she followed him down the hidden servant passages, their footsteps soundless against the worn stone. The passages were narrow and dimly lit, their walls lined with ancient tapestries that seemed to watch them as they passed. Selene had memorized every turn, every hidden alcove, during her time at the estate. These passages were her lifeline, her means of moving unseen.

They emerged near the stables, where the air was thick with the scent of hay and leather. A figure leaned against a post, waiting. The lantern at his feet cast a long shadow, stretching toward them like an omen.

Damian Blackwood.

Selene met his gaze evenly, masking the unease that curled in her chest. His presence still unsettled her—not because she feared him, but because he was an unpredictable variable in an already delicate equation. He was a man who thrived in the shadows, his motives as inscrutable as the darkness he seemed to command.

"You called for me," she said, her voice smooth and measured, betraying none of the tension she felt.

Blackwood straightened, his piercing eyes scanning her face as if searching for something beneath the surface. His expression was unreadable, his features sharp and angular in the lantern light. He was dressed in dark, unadorned clothing, the kind that allowed him to blend into the night.

"You're more interesting than I expected," he said, his voice a lowpretencey drawl. "Mirva underestimates you."

Selene tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. "And you don't?"

A slow smile curved his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "No. That's why I'm here."

Tarek shifted slightly beside her, his posture tense. He didn't trust Blackwood, and neither did she—not fully. But she couldn't afford to dismiss him outright. Not when he might hold the key to tipping the scales in her favour.

Blackwood's gaze flickered to Tarek before returning to Selene. "I have an offer. One that could tip the scales in your favour."

Selene raised a brow, her expression carefully neutral. "And in return?"

"You already know the answer."

Power. Influence. A hidden bargain wrapped in silk and shadows. Blackwood wasn't the kind of man to offer something for nothing. His help would come at a cost, and Selene knew better than to trust him blindly.

She studied him for a long moment, her mind racing as she weighed her options. Finally, she spoke. "Tell me."

---

**A Test of Strength**

By the time the meeting ended, the sky had begun to lighten with the first traces of dawn. Blackwood had left them with more questions than answers, his motives still shrouded in mystery. But one thing was clear—he knew more than he let on. His offer was tempting, but it came with strings attached, and Selene wasn't sure she was willing to pull them just yet.

Back in the estate, Selene found herself drawn to the eastern gardens once more. The pulse of her magic had not faded. If anything, it had sharpened, fueled by the night's events. The air was cool and still; the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. She closed her eyes and reached inward, focusing on the energy that thrummed beneath her skin.

This time, the response was immediate. The power surged, coiling like a serpent beneath her skin. She raised a hand, focusing, channelling—until the air around her shimmered, the faintest whisper of energy distorting the space. Her breath caught as she felt the magic respond, a flicker of light dancing at her fingertips.

It was working.

A gust of wind rustled the leaves overhead, and for the first time, a flicker of something dangerochannelling within her. The magic was raw and untamed, but it was hers to command. She could feel it now, a living, breathing force that answered her will.

This was only the beginning.

---

**The Countdown Begins**

Three days.

That was all the time she had before Mirva's next move. Before the next step in the game, she was playing. Selene straightened, her expression unreadable as she turned back toward the estate,. The storm was coming, and she could feel it in the air, in the tension that crackled like static.

She would be ready.