The Ash and the Altar

The smell of Aethelgard was supposed to be roses. It was the Kingdom of Flowers, after all. But tonight, the only scent in the air was sulfur and burning flesh.

Queen Seraphina coughed, her lungs burning as she dragged her body across the marble floor of the Throne Room. Above her, the famous stained-glass ceiling—depicting the Goddess of Time—shattered, raining down shards of colored light like jagged tears.

"Your Majesty! We must leave!" a loyal knight screamed, before being cut down by the rebel soldiers swarming the doors.

Seraphina didn't scream. She was too tired. Ten years. She had spent ten years trying to be the perfect wife to King Kaelen. She had smiled when he ignored her, prayed when he went to war, and held her head high while the court whispered that the King’s heart was made of ice.

And now, at the end, she was dying alone.

Through the broken balcony doors, she saw him. King Kaelen III was in the courtyard below, his silver armor stained black with blood. He was fighting like a demon, cutting a path toward the palace. Was he coming for her? Or was he just trying to save his crown?

It doesn’t matter, Seraphina thought, feeling the heat of the flames lick at the hem of her dress. My love was a heavy burden to him. Perhaps my death will be his freedom.

She closed her eyes, clasping her hands over her chest. She did not pray for salvation. She did not pray for Kaelen.

"Great Goddess," she whispered, the smoke stealing her final breath. "If there is an afterlife, let me be selfish. Let me be free of this love. Let me rest."

The fire roared. The world turned white. Then, silence.

"Your Highness? Your Highness, wake up! It is the morning!"

Seraphina gasped, her body jerking upright.

She expected pain. She expected the searing heat of the fire. Instead, she felt the softness of goose-feather pillows and the chill of morning air.

"Your Highness, please! You cannot be late. The High Priest hates tardiness!"

Seraphina blinked, her vision blurring. The smoke was gone. Sunlight streamed through pristine, unbroken windows. She looked down at her hands. They were unscarred, smooth, and trembling.

She grabbed the wrist of the maid standing over her. "Lila?"

The maid giggled nervously. "Yes, My Lady? Are you having cold feet? It is natural to be nervous on your wedding day."

Wedding day?

Seraphina scrambled out of the bed, her nightgown trailing on the floor. She ran to the tall, gilded mirror in the corner of the room.

The woman staring back was not the tired, thirty-year-old Queen with hollow cheeks and sad eyes. It was a girl of nineteen. Her skin was flushed with youth, her hair thick and glossy, her eyes wide with confusion.

She spun around. On the dress form in the center of the room stood the dress. The Imperial Wedding Gown. White silk embroidered with thousands of pearls, the bodice threaded with real gold. The same dress she had worn ten years ago.

"The date," Seraphina demanded, her voice hoarse. "What is the date?"

"It is the first day of the Season of Bloom, Year 405," Lila said, looking concerned. " The day you become Queen of Aethelgard."

Seraphina sank onto the velvet ottoman. The room spun. She was not dead. She was back. The Goddess hadn't granted her rest; She had granted a redo.

Memories of the future—or the past—flooded her mind. The cold nights. The whispers of the nobles. The rebellion. The fire. And Kaelen’s back, always turned away from her.

In her first life, on this morning, she had been a nervous wreck. She had been so desperate for Kaelen to like her that she had tripped walking down the aisle. She had spent the reception gazing at him with puppy-dog eyes, only for him to leave the banquet early to work in his study.

I loved him, she realized, a cold calm settling over her heart. And that love killed me.

She stood up. The trembling in her hands stopped.

"Lila," Seraphina said. Her voice was different now. Deeper. Steadier. It carried the weight of a Queen who had already ruled for a decade. "Prepare the bath. Use the rose oil."

"Yes, Your Highness! Oh, you must be so excited to see King Kaelen! He is so handsome, isn't he?"

Seraphina walked to the window and looked out at the kingdom that would one day burn.

"Handsome," Seraphina repeated, her expression unreadable. "Yes. He is a very handsome statue. And I am done worshipping stone gods."

She turned back to the maid, her eyes sharp.

"Tighten the corset today, Lila. I need to stand straight. I have a Kingdom to survive."

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