Rebirth of the Phantom Empress

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Chapter 4: The Chains That Bind

The dim glow of dawn barely reached the cramped servant quarters, casting long, pale shadows against the rough stone walls. Selene sat on the edge of her cot, her fingers curled tightly around the coarse blanket. The faint light filtering through the narrow window illuminated her face, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes and the faint bruise on her cheek.

She hadn't slept.

Not because of exhaustion or hunger—those were minor inconveniences to her.

No, what kept her awake was the burning ember inside her, the flicker of magic she had felt stirring. It was weak now, like a dying coal beneath ash, but it was there.

That meant she could reignite it.

A sharp knock broke her thoughts.

The door creaked open, and a familiar voice whispered, "Get up."

Riven.

He stood in the doorway, shifting nervously on his feet. His shaggy brown hair fell into his eyes, and his grey gaze darted around the room as if expecting someone to appear at any moment. "Lady Mirva wants you in the main hall."

Selene studied him. His fingers twitched at his sides, his jaw tense.

"She's in a mood, isn't she?" Selene murmured.

Riven swallowed hard and nodded. "Be careful."

Selene didn't reply. She didn't need to.

She already knew today would be another test.

And she was ready for it.

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* A Display of Power*

The main hall of the estate was lined with expensive tapestries and intricate chandeliers that gleamed even in the early morning light. A stark contrast to the servants' quarters, where dust and mildew clung to the air.

Lady Mirva stood near the grand table, a delicate porcelain teacup in hand. She wore a deep crimson gown, her golden hair braided and pinned elaborately. She was the picture of nobility. Of wealth. Of power.

But Selene saw the truth beneath the silk and jewels.

Mirva wanted to appear in control.

Which meant she feared losing it.

Selene stepped forward, lowering her head in feigned submission. "You called for me, my lady?"

Mirva took a slow sip of her tea before setting the cup down with a soft clink.

"I did," she mused. "You've been rather quiet, haven't you?"

Selene forced her expression to remain neutral. "I've learned my place."

Mirva's lips curled into a smirk. "Is that so?"

She stepped closer, her nails tapping against the polished wood of the table. "You've been given food, shelter, a second chance at life. And yet, you still act as if you're owed something."

Selene remained silent.

Mirva let out a short, amused laugh. "I think you need a reminder of what happens to those who overstep."

She gestured toward the guards standing by the door.

"Bring her."

Before Selene could react, rough hands seized her arms, yanking her forward.

Pain shot through her wrist as iron cuffs snapped around them, locking her in place.

Selene didn't struggle. She let them restrain her, let them believe she was powerless.

She had spent a lifetime fighting battles she couldn't win with brute force.

This was no different.

Lady Mirva leaned in, her breath warm against Selene's ear.

"You will break," she whispered. "They all do."

Selene's lips curled into the faintest smile.

*We'll see about that,* she thought.

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*The Price of Defiance*

The courtyard was cold, the morning air thick with mist. Servants gathered at the edges, whispering among themselves.

A wooden post stood at the centre, thick ropes coiled around its base.

A punishment post.

Selene was shoved toward it. The guards forced her down to her knees, binding her hands behind her back.

Lady Mirva took slow, deliberate steps until she stood before the gathered crowd.

"This girl," she announced, her voice carrying across the courtyard, "is a reminder."

Silence fell.

"She was given mercy. Shelter. And yet, she repays kindness with defiance." Mirva's gaze swept across the servants, lingering on each one of them. "Let this be a lesson to all of you."

Selene barely heard her.

Her focus was elsewhere.

The ember inside her pulsed.

It was faint, weak, but alive.

She could feel it now—more than before. The energy curled beneath her skin, waiting.

But it wasn't enough.

She needed more.

Pain could fuel magic. She had used it before, in another life. The sharper the agony, the stronger the response.

The first lash came swiftly.

A burning, searing pain ripped across her back.

Selene clenched her jaw, refusing to cry out.

Again.

Another strike.

The ember stirred.

Her vision blurred, but she held onto the sensation, willing the power to rise.

The third strike came.

Something inside her snapped.

The world around her slowed down, the pain dulling into something distant. The cold air grew warmer, the mist curling unnaturally around her.

And then—

A flicker of power surged through her veins.

The rope binding her hands frayed, unravelling as if an unseen hand had plucked them apart.

A gasp rippled through the crowd.

Selene's head snapped up.

Lady Mirva took a step back, her eyes narrowing.

The guard holding the whip hesitated, his grip tightening around the whip.

Selene exhaled, rolling her shoulders. The wounds on her back burned, but the pain no longer mattered. She had her magic.

It was still weak, still flickering—but it was growing.

She met Mirva's gaze, a slow smile forming on her face.

This wasn't over.

It was only just the beginning.

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*The Aftermath*

The servants dispersed quickly, their whispers carrying through the courtyard like a storm. Selene stood tall, her back straight despite the pain radiating through her body. She could feel their eyes on her, their fear and curiosity mingling in the air.

Mirva's expression was unreadable, but Selene could see the cracks in her composure. The woman was shaken, though she would never admit it.

Selene turned and walked back to the servants' quarters, her steps steady and deliberate. She had made her first move, and it had been a bold one. But this was only the beginning.

As she reached her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. Her body ached, but her mind was clear.

She had felt her magic.

And now, she knew it could be awakened.

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*A Dangerous Game*

That night, as the estate settled into an uneasy silence, Selene sat on the edge of her cot, her fingers tracing the rough fabric of her blanket. The ember of magic still burned within her, faint but steady.

She had taken the first step, but the path ahead was fraught with danger. Mirva would not forget what had happened today. She would be watching, waiting for Selene to make a mistake.

But Selene was no stranger to danger.

She had faced it before, and she would face it again.

And this time, she would not lose.

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