"Kneel, Alice. Now."
The blade hit the back of my neck before I could breathe. Cold steel biting straight into skin.
"Get your hands off me, Caine," I spat. Blood hit the white marble. "Too scared to look me in the eye while you play hero?"
He leaned in. His breath was warm against my ear. Way too close.
"I'm not playing, Alice," he said. "You're a monster. The whole city's screaming for your head. Why make this harder than it has to be?"
"You set me up," I said. "The treason charges. The forged letters. You wrote every word, didn't you?"
He gave me that look. That perfect, practiced pity he'd worn for three years. Didn't even blink.
"I did what was necessary," he said. "You were a liability, Alice. Beautiful. Violent. Broken. I loved you once, but love doesn't fix that."
"Love?" I laughed and it came out wet. "You loved my father's gold. You loved the seal. You never loved me for a second."
"And now I don't have to." He flicked two fingers at the executioner. "Do it. Now."
Silver flashed.
Then red. So much red.
The world tipped sideways. Heat sprayed across the marble — my blood painting it. I couldn't feel my hands. Couldn't feel my legs. Just that sick, split-second where my head wasn't on my body anymore.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]
A neon-blue screen ripped through the black. Glitching. Pulsing like a heartbeat.
[HOST STATUS: DECEASED (PHYSICAL) / ACTIVE (SOUL)]
[PROTOCOL: VILE AWAKENING]
[CONDITION MET: Betrayal by Primary Bond. Hatred Level: MAXIMUM.]
"What the hell is this?" I tried to scream. No throat. No lungs. Just rage. "What are you?"
[CALIBRATING TALENT STEALER...]
[SAMPLED LIFEFORM: Alice (Former Villainess)]
[RANK: F- (Degraded)]
[OBJECTIVE: Reclaim power. Burn the empire. Level up or vanish.]
Then the void snapped.
I gasped. Air ripped into my lungs and it tasted like expensive incense and old paper.
I bolted upright. Silk sheets stuck to my back. My bedroom. My old bedroom.
"No," I choked. My hands — small. Clean. No scars. "No way."
I threw the sheets off and hit the floor hard. The nightgown was too long, too expensive. I ran to the mirror and stopped dead.
Eighteen. I was eighteen again.
"This is a dream," I whispered. My fingers hit my cheek. Warm. Real. "I'm dying and my brain's making shit up."
[NOT A DREAM.]
The blue screen popped right in front of my face.
[CURRENT DATE: Year 742, Month of Frost.]
[STATUS: 2 Years Before Execution.]
[CURRENT LEVEL: 1]
[UNIQUE ABILITY: Talent Thief (Locked - Requires First Kill / Absorption)]
Two years. I had two whole years before Caine put that blade to my neck.
A slow, jagged smile pulled at my mouth. "Two years to turn this city into your graveyard, Caine."
"If I'm back..." My voice dropped. My stomach went cold. "Then he's here. Right now."
On cue, the heavy oak doors slammed open.
"Alice?"
That voice. That smooth, honeyed voice that used to make my knees go weak. Now it made me want to bite something.
Caine walked in. Golden hair. Soft eyes. White lilies in his hands. Picture-perfect fiancé.
"You missed breakfast, darling," he said. He stepped closer. Reached for my hair. "I got worried. You feeling alright?"
His fingers were an inch from my face. I could feel the heat off his hand. Smell the lilies.
I flinched back hard. "Don't touch me. Get out."
His hand hung in the air. Just for a second. Then his smile thinned.
"Get out?" he repeated. His voice dropped an octave. "What's gotten into you? You're usually a lot more affectionate."
"Maybe I'm sick of looking at you," I snapped.
He didn't get mad. He got amused. He set the flowers down slow, deliberate, and stepped right into my space.
Too close. His shadow swallowed me against the mirror. His chest almost brushed mine.
"Careful, Alice," he whispered. His lips were inches from mine. I could feel his breath. "You're a tempest, darling. But remember who holds the umbrella in this city. Don't make me remind you who you belong to."
My skin crawled.
"She doesn't belong to you."
The voice cut through the room like a knife.
In the doorway, half in shadow, a man leaned against the frame. Black coat, high collar, silver embroidery. Inquisition.
Silas.
The High Inquisitor. The man who'd signed my death warrant last time with a bored flick of his wrist. His grey eyes weren't on Caine at all.
They were locked on me.
"Interesting," Silas murmured. He pushed off the wall. Boots thudding slow on the stone. "The little bird learned how to hiss."
Caine stiffened. He turned, putting himself between us. "Inquisitor Silas? I wasn't told you were visiting today."
Silas didn't even look at him. He stepped around Caine like he wasn't there. Stopped right behind him. Eyes still on mine.
"I'm here to monitor an anomaly," Silas said. His gaze dragged over my face. Too sharp. Too knowing. "And you are definitely an anomaly."
The blue screen in front of me flashed violent red.
[WARNING: HIGH-TIER TALENT DETECTED.]
[TARGET: SILAS (HIGH INQUISITOR)]
[RANK: SSS]
[TRAIT: DIVINE JUDGMENT]
[COMMAND: STEAL IT?]
My pulse slammed against my ribs. SSS. The highest rank I'd ever seen.
Silas was close now. Close enough I could feel the heat coming off his coat. See the cold in his eyes. Feel the pressure rolling off him, heavy enough to choke on.
He tilted his head. A faint, dangerous smile.
"Yes," I whispered.
Silas moved.
His hand shot out and locked around my wrist. Hard. Hard enough my bones ground together. He yanked me straight into him — chest to chest, breath to breath.
His grey eyes bored into mine. No smile now.
"Who the hell are you," he growled, his thumb digging into my pulse, "and what did you do with the girl I was supposed to execute?"