Rebirth of the Phantom Empress

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Chapter 3: Shadows in the Dark

The night was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint creak of the wooden floorboards beneath Selene's feet as she paced the cramped confines of her servant's quarters. The room was small, barely more than a closet, with a narrow cot, a rickety table, and a cracked mirror that reflected the flickering light of a single candle. The air was damp and cold, carrying the faint scent of mildew and old straw. It was a far cry from the opulent chambers she had once called home, but Selene paid it no mind. She had more pressing concerns.

Her fingers traced the rough grain of the wooden table as she sat down, her mind racing. The ember of magic she had felt earlier still lingered inside her, faint but undeniable. It was a spark of hope, a reminder that she was not entirely powerless in this new life. But it was not enough. Not yet.

She needed more.

Selene closed her eyes, focusing on the faint warmth in her chest. It was there, just beneath the surface, waiting to be awakened. But how? In her past life, her magic had been as natural as breathing, a part of her very being. Now, it felt distant, like a memory slipping through her fingers.

She clenched her fists, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She had spent the past few hours piecing together what little she could from the fragmented memories of the original Selene and her own observations. Lady Mirva's household was a viper's nest, filled with fear and resentment. The servants hated their mistress, but they were too afraid to act. Selene could use that. She would use that.

But first, she needed allies.

A soft creak at the door made her tense. She kept her breathing even, her eyes half-lidded as if exhausted. Heavy footsteps shuffled outside before a hesitant knock followed.

"Selene?"

It was Riven.

She didn't move immediately. Instead, she listened. His breathing was steady but shallow, the nervous tremor in his voice evident even through the wooden door. He was afraid—of her, of Mirva, of the consequences of being caught. But there was something else in his tone, something she couldn't quite place.

After a few seconds, she rose and opened the door.

Riven stood in the dim hallway, a small bundle wrapped in cloth tucked beneath his arm. His shaggy brown hair fell into his eyes, and his grey gaze flickered over her face before he thrust the bundle toward her.

"Here," he muttered. "Bread. And a bit of dried meat."

Selene took it slowly, unwrapping the cloth to reveal the food. Her stomach twisted in protest, hunger gnawing at her insides, but she didn't eat right away. Instead, she studied him.

He wasn't looking at her—his eyes were on the floor, shifting nervously.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm.

Riven tensed. "I… I just thought you needed it."

A lie. A hesitant one.

"You don't know me," she pressed. "And kindness isn't free in a place like this."

Riven's hands clenched at his sides. He exhaled sharply as if debating whether to speak. Then, finally—

"Lady Mirva's temper is getting worse," he admitted in a whisper. "The servants talk when she's not listening. She's been punishing people over the smallest things lately." His voice dropped lower. "People have disappeared before."

Selene's fingers curled around the cloth.

Disappeared.

She could hear the unspoken warning in his words. Mirva wasn't just cruel—she was dangerous.

"If you don't act careful," Riven continued, "you'll be next."

Selene met his gaze.

Careful? No. That wasn't enough.

She had no intention of simply surviving Mirva.

She was going to destroy her.

Still, she offered Riven a small nod, feigning gratitude. "Thank you," she said softly.

Riven hesitated before nodding back. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.

Selene shut the door.

She stared down at the food in her hands, her mind already turning.

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* The First Thread*

Riven's warning lingered in her thoughts as she sat on the edge of her cot, the bread and dried meat untouched. He was afraid, but he had risked bringing her food. That meant something. It meant he saw her as more than just another servant. It meant he could be useful.

But she had to be careful. Trust was a luxury she couldn't afford, not yet.

Selene's gaze drifted to the cracked mirror on the wall. The girl staring back at her was a stranger—frail, with hollow cheeks and haunted violet eyes. But beneath the surface, she could see the fire burning within, the same fire that had once made her the most feared ruler in the empire.

She was not just Selene Ravencourt.

She was Elara Veylan.

And she would not be caged.

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*A Glimpse of the Past*

As she sat in the dim light, fragments of the original Selene's memories surfaced, like shards of glass cutting through her thoughts. She saw flashes of a young girl, beaten and broken, locked in a cold, dark room. She felt the sting of a whip, the bite of winter air, the suffocating weight of despair.

But there was something else, too—a flicker of defiance, a spark of rebellion that had never been fully extinguished. It was that spark that had drawn Elara to this body, that had allowed her to take control.

Selene clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She would not let that spark die. She would fan it into a flame, and she would use it to burn Mirva's world to the ground.

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* The Next Move*

The candle flickered, casting long shadows on the walls as Selene began to plan. She needed more information and more allies. Riven was a start, but he was just one thread in the web she needed to weave.

She would start small, planting seeds of doubt among the servants, sowing discord where there was fear. Mirva's power was built on control, and Selene would chip away at it, piece by piece until it crumbled.

But first, she needed to understand the household's dynamics. Who held Mirva's trust? Who resented her the most? Who could be turned?

Selene's lips curled into a faint smile.

This was a game of patience, and she was a master player.

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