Chapter: 1: The Day I Regressed

...The Day I Regressed...

Morning light filtered quietly through the tall windows of the Ravenscroft estate, casting long silver beams across the polished floor. The northern sun was pale and cold, its light softened by thin clouds drifting above the sea beyond Ravenport. It illuminated the vast chamber in gentle silence—touching the carved wooden furniture, the pale olive drapes embroidered with frost lilies, and the large bed at the center of the room.

Valentina Ravenscroft slowly opened her eyes.

For several seconds she simply stared upward, her mind clouded by a strange heaviness. Something about the world around her felt distant and unfamiliar, as though she had awakened from a dream she could not fully remember.

Her gaze lingered on the ceiling.

The wooden panels above her bed were carved with intricate patterns of winter flowers—frost lilies and glacial vines twisting across dark oak. It was a design she knew well, one she had grown up seeing every morning for most of her childhood.

But she had not seen it in years.

Her breathing faltered slightly.

The room around her was quiet, almost eerily so. The faint scent of lavender drifted through the air from the dried flowers placed on a nearby table. The soft rustle of curtains stirred whenever the wind brushed against the windows.

Everything was painfully familiar.

Too familiar.

Valentina slowly pushed herself upright in bed, her hand instinctively reaching toward her neck.

Her fingers trembled.

There was nothing there.

No wound.

No blood.

No trace of the blade that had once ended her life.

Her heart began to beat faster.

The final memory returned to her with frightening clarity.

The cold stone beneath her feet.

The murmuring crowd gathered in the capital square of Solmaire.

The accusations of treason echoing through the air like a cruel chant.

And the executioner standing behind her.

She remembered the moment the blade descended.

She remembered the overwhelming darkness that followed.

Valentina’s hand slowly lowered from her neck.

Then she looked toward the mirror across the room.

A young woman stared back at her.

Long black hair flowed loosely over her shoulders, catching the morning light with faint blue reflections. Her sharp features were delicate yet composed, bearing the unmistakable elegance of the Ravenscroft bloodline. And her eyes—deep violet, almost like amethyst—were the same eyes feared and admired throughout the northern territories.

But something about them had changed.

Those eyes held memories that the girl reflected in the mirror should not possess.

Memories of betrayal.

Of loss.

Of death.

Valentina slowly rose from the bed and walked toward the mirror, her bare feet silent against the cold floor.

The girl looking back at her was younger.

Much younger.

Nineteen years old.

Exactly six years before the day she died.

A quiet breath escaped her lips.

“…So it’s true.”

Her voice sounded unfamiliar in the still room.

“I returned.”

The words felt strange, even as she spoke them. Yet the truth was undeniable. Somehow—by fate, by magic, or by some mysterious force she could not yet understand—she had been given another chance.

Another life.

Another beginning.

Valentina closed her eyes briefly, forcing her thoughts to settle. The weight of everything she remembered threatened to overwhelm her, but panic would solve nothing. If this truly was the past, she needed to remain calm.

She had always prided herself on discipline.

Even now, she would not lose control.

A soft knock sounded against the door.

“Lady Valentina?”

The voice of a maid drifted inside.

Valentina opened her eyes again, her expression quickly returning to its usual calm.

“Yes,” she answered.

The door opened gently, and a young maid stepped inside before bowing respectfully.

“Good morning, my lady. The duchess asked if you would join her for breakfast. His Grace has already left for the military council.”

Father.

The word echoed quietly in Valentina’s mind.

Duke Cassian Ravenscroft.

The man who had led the northern armies with unwavering loyalty for decades.

The man who had died defending his daughter’s name.

Valentina felt something tighten in her chest.

“…I understand,” she said after a moment.

“I will be there shortly.”

The maid nodded and quietly left the room.

Once the door closed again, the silence returned.

Valentina remained standing before the mirror, staring at her reflection.

Her parents were alive.

Her house still stood strong.

And the future that had once destroyed everything had not yet begun.

For the first time since awakening, a faint tremor passed through her fingers.

If she had truly returned to the past…

Then everything that had happened once could happen again.

The accusations.

The betrayal.

The downfall of House Ravenscroft.

Her own execution.

Valentina slowly clenched her hand.

“No,” she murmured quietly.

“Not this time.”

She would not allow history to repeat itself.

She had just finished dressing when the door suddenly opened again without warning.

“Sister!”

A small figure rushed into the room with unmistakable energy.

Valentina froze.

Adeline Ravenscroft.

Her younger sister stood in the doorway, her dark hair slightly disheveled from running through the halls. Her violet eyes sparkled with excitement as she hurried across the room.

Adeline wrapped her arms tightly around Valentina without hesitation.

“You’re finally awake!” she said brightly. “Mother said you might still be resting.”

Valentina did not move at first.

The warmth of the embrace felt strangely overwhelming.

Adeline was alive.

In the future Valentina remembered, her sister had vanished after the fall of their family. No one had ever told her what became of the twelve-year-old girl once the Ravenscroft estate was seized by royal forces.

Some claimed she escaped.

Others believed she was taken away.

But the truth had never been revealed.

Valentina slowly placed her hand on Adeline’s head.

“…Good morning,” she said softly.

Adeline pulled back slightly, studying her face.

“You sound tired today.”

“I didn’t sleep well,” Valentina replied.

That explanation was simple enough to avoid further questions.

Adeline nodded thoughtfully before smiling again.

“Well, breakfast is ready. Mother is waiting.”

Valentina hesitated for a brief moment before nodding.

“Adeline, could you tell Mother that I’m not in the mood to eat right now?”

Adeline replied, “Okay, but you shouldn't skip breakfast.”

“Actually, I have an upset stomach. I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.”

Adeline replied “Okay, should I tell mother to inform Uncle Jasper (Royal Physician)”.

“No need Adeline, I am okay... I believe that I will feel better, if I sleep for a little more.”

Adeline replied, “Okay”

As Adeline left the room, Valentina allowed herself a quiet glance at her sister.

Adeline’s cheerful expression was exactly as she remembered.

Innocent.

Unaware of the cruel future that had once awaited their family.

This time, Valentina thought that future would never come.

She would make sure of it.

After her conversation with Adeline, Valentina remained in her room, quietly observing the surroundings that felt both familiar and strangely different.

The Ravenscroft estate had grown quiet. From her window, she could faintly hear the waves of the Ravenport sea. Servants moved quietly through the halls completing their duties, while the distant wind carried the faint scent of the sea into her chamber.

Valentina sat at the desk near the window.

A blank notebook rested before her.

The sunlight fell gently over the pages, casting shifting shadows across the room.

For a long moment she simply stared at the empty paper.

If she had truly returned six years into the past, then there was something she needed to do immediately.

Something vital.

She needed to remember everything.

Not just the large events everyone knew.

But the small ones as well.

The overlooked conversations.

The quiet alliances.

The misunderstandings that slowly built into catastrophe.

Valentina picked up the pen.

The ink touched the page.

And she began to write.

She started with the year.

The year that had once changed everything.

The year she entered the Imperial Academy of Aetherion.

The year she first met Isabella Valmont.

And the year Prince Lucian Aurelius began gathering the alliances that would one day place the crown upon his head.

Valentina wrote carefully, her memories guiding each word.

She recorded the major political shifts she could recall—the tensions between the royal princes, the subtle competition among the noble houses, and the growing influence of certain alliances that had seemed harmless at the time.

Then she wrote about the smaller moments.

The rumors whispered among students at the academy.

The arguments she once dismissed.

The conversations she had never fully understood until much later.

Looking back now, she realized something painful.

Her downfall had not been caused by a single mistake.

It had been the result of countless events slowly guiding her toward a role she never intended to play, ‘The role of the villainess’.

Valentina paused, staring at the half-filled page.

In the story the kingdom remembered, she had been the enemy.

The ambitious noblewoman who betrayed the crown.

The woman whose actions forced the royal family to act.

The villainess who stood in the way of the hero and heroine.