Rebirth of the Phantom Empress

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Chapter 5: Whispers of Rebellion

The torches lining the stone corridors flickered, casting distorted shadows against the damp walls. The scent of burnt oil and stale air lingered, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. Selene moved with careful precision, her steps silent despite the cold stone beneath her bare feet. Every movement sent a sharp reminder of the wounds on her back, but she ignored the pain.

Pain was nothing.

Not when she had finally felt her magic stir.

She had been weak before, caged like an animal beneath Mirva's rule, but now?

Now, she had a taste of power again.

And she would never go back.

A soft whisper echoed from further down the corridor. Selene pressed herself against the wall, her breath shallow, her senses sharp. The sound was faint, barely audible over the distant creak of the estate settling into the night. But she recognized the voice.

Riven.

And he wasn't alone.

She crept closer, keeping to the shadows as she listened.

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* A Dangerous Pact*

"Did you see it?" Riven's voice was hushed, trembling. "The way the ropes came undone? That wasn't normal."

A second voice scoffed. "You're imagining things."

"I'm not!" Riven insisted, his tone rising slightly before he caught himself. "Something happened out there. She didn't break—she should have, but she didn't."

Silence.

Then, a sigh. "Even if it's true, what does it matter? You think she's some kind of sorceress? Magic's forbidden, Riven. If Mirva suspects anything, she'll kill her."

Selene's lips curled slightly.

They weren't wrong.

Magic was feared—hated even. Most believed it to be extinct, a relic of the past. If Mirva did suspect her, she wouldn't hesitate to dispose of her.

Which meant Selene needed to act first.

She stepped into the dim light.

Riven flinched, his eyes widening as he turned. "You—"

The other servant, a lanky boy with sharp features and a perpetual scowl, tensed. His name was Tarek, and he was known among the servants for his quick temper and sharper tongue. "You shouldn't be here."

Selene tilted her head, her expression calm but her eyes sharp. "Neither should you."

Tarek narrowed his eyes, his gaze flickering to the shadows behind her as if expecting someone to appear. "Were you listening?"

"I was." She met his gaze without fear. "And you're right. If Mirva knew the truth, I'd be dead."

Tarek exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy hair. "Then you should leave before someone else hears—"

"I'm not the only one in danger," Selene interrupted, her voice low but firm. "You both hate Mirva. Everyone here does. Do you really think she'll let you live once you stop being useful?"

Tarek hesitated, his scowl deepening. He glanced at Riven, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

Selene stepped closer, her presence commanding despite her small frame. "I have a way out. A way for all of us to be free."

Riven swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. "How?"

Selene's smile was sharp, her violet eyes glinting in the torchlight. "We start a fire."

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*The Spark of Rebellion*

A plan was already forming in her mind, each piece falling into place with calculated precision. Mirva's strength lay in control, in fear. But fear was a fragile thing—once broken, it could never be repaired.

The servants feared Mirva because they believed they had no choice.

Selene would give them one.

"We hit her where it hurts," she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of certainty. "The estate, the supplies—her wealth."

Tarek's brow furrowed, his arms crossed over his chest. "You're talking about sabotage."

Selene nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Mirva doesn't care about us, but she does care about her power. If we disrupt her hold—force the other nobles to see her weakness—she'll start to lose control."

Riven shifted anxiously, his fingers twitching at his sides. "And then what? Even if we cause trouble, we're still stuck here."

Selene's expression darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing through her eyes. "Not for long."

She wouldn't remain trapped forever. She would rise, just as she had in her past life.

And she would drag Mirva into the flames if she had to.

Tarek studied her for a long moment, his scowl softening into something more thoughtful. Finally, he exhaled sharply and nodded. "Fine. Let's burn this place to the ground."

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* A Warning in the Dark*

The night was thick with silence, the kind that pressed against your ears and made every breath feel too loud. Selene lay on her cot, her body aching, but her mind racing. The plan was set in motion. Small acts of defiance at first—spilt supplies, misplaced documents, tiny inconveniences that would chip away at Mirva's patience.

And then, when the time was right…

They would strike.

But even as she plotted, a strange sensation prickled at her senses.

A presence.

She wasn't alone.

Selene's fingers tightened around the thin blanket. Slowly, she turned her head toward the far side of the room.

A figure stood in the doorway.

Tall. Cloaked in the shadows.

Not a servant.

Not Mirva.

Something else.

Selene sat up, her pulse steady despite the unease creeping through her. "Who are you?"

The figure didn't answer immediately. Instead, they stepped closer, the faint glow of the moon revealing the edges of their hood. Their features were hidden, but their presence was unmistakable.

They knew who she was.

Not as a servant.

Not as a broken girl.

But as something more.

Selene's fingers twitched. Her magic stirred, a faint warmth spreading through her chest.

The figure tilted its head as if sensing it.

Then they whispered—

"Awaken, Phantom Empress."

And then vanished.

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*The Gathering Storm*

Selene exhaled slowly, her heart pounding in the silence.

The figure's words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning.

She had been seen.

Not just by Mirva, not just by the servants.

By someone who knew her true nature.

Selene clenched her fists, her mind racing.

This was no longer just a game of shadows.

It was a war.

And she was at its centre.

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