Rebirth of the Phantom Empress

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**Chapter 7 – Whispers in the Dark**

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting the marketplace in a golden haze as Selene wove through the thinning crowds. The earlier encounter with the mysterious man still lingered in her mind, an unsettling presence she couldn't shake. His gaze—cold, unreadable—had felt like a brand, searing into her memory. It wasn't just his presence that unsettled her; it was the familiarity of it, as though she had encountered him in another life, another world.

She clenched her jaw, pushing the thought aside. Now was not the time for distractions. Lady Mirva had sent her to fetch fresh herbs from the apothecary, and the last thing Selene wanted was to give the woman an excuse to punish her.

As she neared the shop, the scent of dried lavender, mint, and something bitter filled the air. The apothecary was a modest stone building tucked between a bakery and a tailor's shop, its entrance marked by hanging bundles of herbs. The wooden sign above the door creaked in the evening breeze, its faded paint barely legible.

Selene stepped inside, the wooden floor groaning beneath her weight. Shelves lined the walls, filled with glass jars of powders, oils, and dried plants. An old man stood behind the counter, grinding something with a mortar and pestle. He didn't look up as she entered.

"Ah, another customer," he muttered, his voice gravelly. "What do you need, girl?"

Selene reached into her basket and produced a small slip of paper, the list written in Lady Mirva's sharp, angular script. "Dried valerian root, chamomile, and willow bark."

The apothecary grunted, shuffling toward the shelves. As he gathered the herbs, Selene let her gaze wander. A large, leather-bound book sat on the counter, its pages filled with elegant script and intricate diagrams—potion recipes. Her eyes scanned the symbols, her mind instantly recognizing the alchemical notations. Valerian for sleep, chamomile for calm, but also... nightshade for paralysis, wolfsbane for poison.

A slow, calculating smile curved her lips.

In her past life, alchemy had been a cornerstone of her power. Potions could heal, yes, but they could also destroy. With the right ingredients, she could craft tools to shift the balance of power in her favour. Lady Mirva held the leash now, but Selene was no stranger to breaking chains.

"That'll be five silver," the apothecary said, setting a wrapped bundle on the counter.

Selene placed the coins on the wooden surface, her fingers brushing the edge of the potion book. She cast one last glance at its pages before turning to leave. One day, she would return. And when she did, she would be ready.

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**A Shadow in the Alley**

The streets had grown quieter as evening fell, the lively marketplace dimming under the orange glow of lanterns. Selene adjusted the basket on her arm and moved swiftly toward the estate, careful not to draw attention. She had lingered too long already—any more, and Mirva would suspect something.

But as she passed a narrow alley, a muffled sound made her pause.

A whimper.

She turned her head slightly, peering into the darkness. Two figures stood near the stone wall—a boy, no older than thirteen, trembling like a leaf, and a man gripping him by the collar. The boy's face was streaked with dirt, his lip split, and his eyes wide with terror.

"Did you think you could run?" the man sneered, his voice low and venomous. "You owe me coin, boy. And if you can't pay, I'll take something else instead."

Selene exhaled slowly, her grip tightening on the basket.

She should walk away.

Interfering meant drawing attention—risking her own position. Lady Mirva would not tolerate disobedience, and Selene had no allies in this world to shield her from the consequences.

And yet, something inside her burned.

A ruler did not stand idle while the weak were trampled.

Selene stepped forward, her movements silent as a shadow. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The man froze, his head snapping toward her. His bloodshot eyes narrowed, his lip curling in a sneer. "Who the hell are you?"

She tilted her head, studying him. He was large, built like a brawler, with greasy hair and a crooked nose that had been broken more than once. A thug who thought himself powerful because he preyed on those who couldn't fight back.

Selene smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Let him go."

The man barked out a laugh, releasing the boy and taking a step toward her. "Or what? You think a little girl like you can—"

He didn't finish the sentence.

Selene moved faster than he could react. She shifted to the side, swept her foot behind his knee, and sent him stumbling backwards. He hit the ground with a grunt, his face a mask of shock and rage.

Before he could recover, Selene grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him behind her, her stance relaxed but her gaze sharp as a blade.

The man scrambled to his feet, his face twisted with fury. "You little—"

"Unless you want me to break something else," Selene interrupted, her voice calm but laced with steel, "I suggest you walk away."

There was no magic in her words, no overt threat. But something in her eyes—something cold and unyielding—made him hesitate. He stared at her for a long moment, his fists clenched, before spitting on the ground and storming off into the night.

Selene exhaled, turning to the boy. "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head, though his hands still trembled. "N-No. Thank you."

She studied him for a moment. He was thin, his clothes patched and worn. A street orphan, most likely, with no one to protect him.

"You shouldn't be alone at night," she said.

The boy bit his lip, his eyes downcast. "I… I don't have anywhere else to go."

Selene considered this. She had no place for a stray, no resources to care for another. And yet, she couldn't leave him to fend for himself.

"Stay out of trouble," she said finally. "And if you ever need to disappear, find the apothecary near the market. Tell him the girl with silver eyes sent you."

The boy blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "Why?"

She gave him a small, knowing smile. "Because it's always wise to have an escape plan."

With that, she turned and disappeared into the streets, the night swallowing her whole.

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**A Distant Observer**

Unbeknownst to her, a figure watched from the shadows of a nearby rooftop.

The same man from the market—tall, cloaked in black, his grey eyes sharp and calculating—observed her with quiet interest. He had not expected to see her again so soon. And yet, there she was, moving through the streets with the practised ease of someone who had lived another life.

Stronger than she appeared.

Smarter than most would assume.

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing at his lips. She had handled the thug with precision, her movements efficient and deliberate. There was no hesitation in her, no fear. Only a quiet, deadly confidence that intrigued him.

How... interesting.

He leaned back against the chimney, his gaze lingering on the spot where she had vanished into the night. She was no ordinary girl, of that much he was certain. And if fate had anything to say about it, their paths would cross again.

The game was far from over.

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