The cell stank of damp stone and old blood.

Sylvia lay curled on the cold floor, her breathing shallow, her body too weak to even shiver. Chains wrapped around her wrists—not because she was dangerous, but because her clan feared disgrace more than weakness.

A daughter who could not transform.

A serpent who could not lay eggs.

A failure.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Slow. Deliberate.

Sylvia didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

The iron door creaked open.

“Well,” a familiar voice said, light and amused, “you look worse than I imagined.”

Sylvia’s fingers twitched against the floor. Her throat burned, but she forced herself to lift her head.

Her sister stood there—elegant, flawless, draped in silks that marked her as the pride of the Serpent Clan. The adopted daughter who had taken everything Sylvia was supposed to be.

“You came,” Sylvia rasped.

“Of course I did.” Her sister smiled, stepping closer, her heels clicking softly. “How could I miss the end of something so… pathetic?”

Something cold slid into Sylvia’s chest, but she said nothing.

Her sister crouched in front of her, eyes gleaming.

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked softly.

Sylvia didn’t answer.

“Because you were never meant to exist.” Her sister’s voice sharpened. “A useless first daughter. No transformation. No eggs. Do you know how embarrassing that was for the clan?”

Sylvia’s nails dug weakly into the stone.

“I tried to help you,” her sister continued mockingly. “Tried to fix you. But in the end, I realized something…”

She leaned closer, her smile turning cruel.

“It was much easier to take what little you had.”

Sylvia’s breath hitched.

“…What do you mean?”

Her sister laughed softly.

“Oh, you still don’t understand?” she said. “That power you were born with—the one that never awakened? I took it. Piece by piece.”

The world seemed to tilt.

“You… stole… it…?”

“Of course I did.” She stood, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves. “Did you really think I became the clan’s genius on my own?”

Sylvia’s vision blurred.

Her heart pounded—not from fear, but from something darker.

Rage.

“And your mother…” her sister added casually.

Sylvia froze.

“…What about my mother?”

A cruel glint flashed in her sister’s eyes.

“She died protecting you, didn’t she?” she said. “What a waste. A powerful woman, throwing her life away for something so useless.”

“Don’t—” Sylvia’s voice broke.

“I wonder,” her sister continued, smiling, “if she’d regret it now. Seeing what you became. A broken thing rotting in a cell.”

“STOP!”

The scream tore from Sylvia’s throat, raw and desperate.

Her sister only laughed.

“Look at you,” she said. “Even now, you’re nothing.”

She turned and walked toward the door.

“Wait…” Sylvia whispered.

Her sister paused.

“For your final act,” she said without turning back, “I prepared something special.”

The guards stepped forward.

Before Sylvia could react, a hand forced her jaw open.

A bitter liquid was poured down her throat.

She choked, struggling weakly, but it was no use. The poison burned like fire as it slid into her stomach.

“There,” her sister said, glancing back with satisfaction. “A fitting end.”

Sylvia collapsed, coughing violently.

Her body began to tremble.

Her veins felt like they were being torn apart from the inside.

“…Why…” she gasped.

Her sister smiled.

“Because I can.”

And with that, she left.

The door slammed shut.

Silence returned.

Sylvia lay alone, her body writhing in agony.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

Her breath grew shallow. Her vision darkened.

So this was it.

This was how she would die.

Alone. Hated. Forgotten.

Her fingers curled into fists.

No.

Not like this.

Not without a fight.

Not without—

“…I curse you…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her eyes burned with hatred.

“I curse you… for everything you took from me…”

Her breathing faltered.

“If there is another life… I will take it all back…”

Her heart stuttered.

“…and I will destroy you.”

Darkness swallowed her whole.

—

A sudden flash of light.

Blinding.

Warm.

Sylvia gasped.

Air rushed into her lungs as her eyes snapped open.

She sat up abruptly—

—and froze.

Soft sheets.

Silk curtains.

Sunlight pouring through a familiar window.

Her room.

Her hands trembled as she looked down at them.

Unchained.

Unscarred.

Alive.

“…What…?”

Her heart began to race.

She stumbled out of bed, rushing to the mirror.

A younger face stared back at her.

Unbroken.

Untouched.

Realization hit like thunder.

“…Two years…” she whispered.

Two years before her death.

Before the betrayal.

Before everything.

Her reflection stared back, eyes slowly darkening.

This time…

Her lips curled into a faint, cold smile.

“…I won’t lose.”

Morning light spilled across the polished floors of Sylvia’s chamber, warm and deceptively gentle.

It felt like a lie.

Sylvia stood by the window, fingers lightly brushing the curtains, her reflection faintly visible in the glass. Her face was calm—too calm for someone who had died in agony not long ago.

Two years.

Two years before everything fell apart.

Behind her, the door creaked open without ceremony.

“Miss Sylvia, you’re still not dressed?”

The voice was sharp. Displeased.

Sylvia’s eyes darkened slightly.

Right on time.

She turned slowly.

The servant stood there—arms crossed, lips curled in thinly veiled disgust. In her past life, this woman had been one of the first to treat her like less than human. Cold meals. Late baths. Insults whispered just loud enough to hear.

And later…

The same woman had laughed when Sylvia was dragged to the prison.

“You truly are useless, miss.”

Sylvia smiled faintly.

“Yes,” she said softly. “That’s what you used to say.”

The servant frowned. “Used to?”

Sylvia stepped closer.

Each step was quiet. Measured.

“You often delayed my meals,” Sylvia continued calmly. “Spoke ill of me to the others. Reported only my ‘failures’ to the elders.”

The servant scoffed. “Because that’s all there is to report.”

Silence.

Then—

A sharp crack echoed through the room.

The servant’s head snapped to the side.

For a moment, she didn’t even understand what had happened.

Sylvia lowered her hand slowly.

The servant stared at her in shock, a red mark blooming across her cheek.

“You—how dare you?!”

Sylvia tilted her head, her expression almost curious.

“How dare I?” she repeated softly.

The air shifted.

Something invisible pressed down on the room.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

The servant’s breath caught.

“…What… is this…?” she whispered, her knees trembling.

Sylvia stepped closer again, her gaze no longer soft.

“You seem to have forgotten your place,” she said quietly. “So let me remind you.”

The pressure increased.

The servant dropped to her knees with a choked gasp.

“I am the first daughter of the Serpent Clan.”

Each word fell like a weight.

“And you,” Sylvia continued, looking down at her, “are nothing more than a servant who overstepped.”

The servant’s body shook violently now, her forehead pressing against the floor without her control.

“I—I'm sorry—!”

“Too late.”

Sylvia’s voice was flat.

In her past life, she had endured.

Stayed silent.

Hoped things would change.

They hadn’t.

This time, she wouldn’t wait.

“From today onward,” Sylvia said, “you will be reassigned to the outer grounds.”

The servant’s head snapped up in horror.

“T-The outer grounds?! No—please! That’s—”

“A place for those who fail in their duties,” Sylvia finished calmly. “Fitting, isn’t it?”

Tears welled in the servant’s eyes.

“Miss Sylvia, please! I won’t do it again—!”

Sylvia crouched down, meeting her gaze.

For a brief moment, her eyes softened—

Then turned cold again.

“You already did,” she said.

She stood.

“Leave.”

The pressure vanished instantly.

The servant collapsed forward, gasping, her body drenched in cold sweat.

She didn’t dare argue again.

Scrambling to her feet, she fled the room.

The door slammed shut behind her.

Silence returned.

Sylvia exhaled slowly.

Her fingers trembled slightly.

“…So it’s real,” she murmured.

That pressure.

That power.

It hadn’t existed in her past life.

Or perhaps…

It had been stolen before it could awaken.

A slow smile formed on her lips.

“Then I’ll take back everything.”

She walked back to the mirror, studying herself.

This was only the beginning.

One servant meant nothing.

Next would be the whispers in the clan.

The elders who turned a blind eye.

And finally—

Her sister.

Sylvia’s reflection stared back, eyes gleaming with quiet fury.

“But first…” she said softly,

“…let’s see how far this power goes.”

Outside, the wind stirred.

And deep within her—

Something ancient shifted.

Watching.

Waiting.