PROLOGUE

"My Queen!" cried a wounded knight as he burst through the door. "Please, you must flee this instant! The castle is engulfed in fire!"

Queen Lyzandra's eyes widened, yet a steely resolve settled upon her as she surveyed her once valiant warrior, now battered and hopeless. "I shall not retreat," she declared, her words laced with unwavering determination. "Our allies they're definitely on their way–"

"No one's coming, your Majesty!" the knight collapsed on the floor, clutching his wounded stomach in agony. "None of the four High Kings are coming to save us. None, my queen."

Lyzandra's features contorted in shock, her head shaking in disbelief. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "I have aided them in their times of need and fought to protect them. What do you mean none of them are coming?!"

The knight's smile, filled with a sorrowful resignation, spread across his weary face. "I am unaware of their reasons, my queen," he whispered, his voice a mere thread. "All I can attest is that you have been abandoned... Forgive me, your Majesty... I implore you, escape now. I beg of you..." The knight's hopeless smile faded with his final breath, leaving a deep sense of emptiness in the air. Queen Lyzandra stood motionless as time seemed to suspend, stretching into an interminable pause.

But as smoke began to invade the entire room she was in, Lyzandra lowered herself to one knee and extended a trembling hand to touch her fallen warrior.

"It is I who should seek forgiveness..." Lyzandra's voice wavered, its strength fading into vulnerability. "I have failed... Failed to shield my kingdom... Failed to protect each and every one of you..."

With delicate reverence, she closed the knight's eyes, sealing away the pain and sorrow etched within them. The queen then rose, her steps filled with purpose, but instead of running towards the beckoning escape, her path diverged toward the castle's grand balcony.

She stood there. Her armor, once a gleaming testament to her nobility, now bore the scars of a deadly battle, each blemish telling a story of sacrifice and valiant defiance. Her hair, once a waterfall of pure and silky white, now bore the stain of bloodshed, a somber reminder of the lives lost under her command. The city, once a vibrant tapestry of life, lay in ruins before her. Flames ravaged homes, their towering infernos devouring memories and dreams. The air resonated with anguished screams, blending with the acrid stench of death that hung heavy in the atmosphere. Even the sun, once a beacon of light and hope, now cast an eerie dark crimson hue upon the destruction.

Lyzandra's strength faltered, and she sank to her knees. Her entire being trembled with a mixture of seething rage and inconsolable grief. "So this is the gratitude you show me, after the sacrifices I have made, the kindness I have bestowed upon you all?" she hissed through gritted teeth, her words dripping with a venomous bitterness. The roaring flames encircled her, their blistering heat and suffocating smoke clawing at her senses, yet she remained resolute, defiantly rooted in place. Her dark eyes blazed with an intensity fueled by an inferno of fury that could match the fire of hell itself.

"Even if I die," she declared in a loud vow, her voice fierce and unwavering. "I vow to come after every single one of you. I will haunt you all down to death!"

As the inferno intensified, her fervent vows echoed through the chaos and anguish. The queen's voice merged with the crackling of flames, her cries and vows blending into the searing heat until at last the fire embraced her, its ravenous hunger devouring her form until nothing remained but the whispers of her fury.

The sky darkened, as if mourning the loss of a fierce spirit. And then, a heavy silence fell upon the land.

But with the rising of the sun, a new dawn emerged, casting its light upon the ravaged remnants of the city.

And from the ashes and debris, Queen Lyzandra's body emerged. Naked and unharmed, she stood amidst the ruins, her porcelain skin now adorned with an intricate tapestry of tattoos, depicting tiny deadly nightshade flowers in all their dangerous beauty.

Queen Lyzandra was alive. Miraculously so. And that wasn't the only shocking thing that happened.

As Queen Lyzandra stood amidst the rubble, her presence became a magnet for the enemy soldiers, drawing them in with an irresistible and perilous allure. It was as if an ancient force had awakened, ensnaring the minds and hearts of those who laid eyes upon her. The soldiers, driven by a mindless and dangerous desire, advanced upon her.

To her shock and dismay, she discovered that her once formidable power had deserted her. Stripped of her weapons and defenseless, Lyzandra fought valiantly but found herself overpowered by the frenzied soldiers. Until she found herself pinned to the ground. The weight of her weakness pressing upon her, cruelly reminding her of her losses—her kingdom, her power, her people.

But in the depths of her despair, a flicker of something alien and dangerous began to stir within her. A power, dark and intoxicating, surged through her veins and suddenly, the soldiers who dared to touch her, to sate their lust, were met with a deadly consequence.

The moment their tongues touched her skin, they convulsed in agony, their bodies contorting and collapsing to the ground. Their eyes rolled back, their mouths foamed, and they all succumbed to the deadly poison. Lyzandra watched in a mix of horror and surprise as the lethal potency of her body unfolded. She had become a literal vessel of poison, a deadly weapon in her own right.

With a mixture of trepidation and grim determination, she wrapped herself in a cloak, concealing the deadly allure that lay within her.

As she walked away from the ruins, Queen Lyzandra embraced the fire of vengeance that burned within her. She believed she had been miraculously given the chance to exact vengeance. And so, she sets out to do just as she had vowed while she was being burned to death. She would go and seek retribution against those who had orchestrated the downfall of her kingdom. She would spare no mercy even for those who had callously turned their backs on her.