And now, we had an objective—a goal of some kind.
We had to take them off the throne, one way or another, at any and all cost.
And I was spinning out.
Was it the right thing to do—or was that just what I was telling myself?
She was my daughter.
I was there for her birth.
I fed her, clothed her, cared for her—and now... what had this world come to?
But I knew there was no other way.
She had to be stopped.
And my mother—a force to be reckoned with—at this point, she wouldn't hesitate to behead me without a second thought, as long as she had Athena.
Amelia wanted this, though.
It felt like we were getting closer and closer—but there was still this distance between us, like we were both afraid. Afraid of betraying the ones we had lost.
Here I was, plotting the downfall of my mother and daughter alongside my friend—or so I thought.
I don't even know anymore.
She was about to introduce me to the other usurpers.
Mostly commoners—but among them, one of my mother's council members. Someone I thought was her most trusted.
Instantly, doubt crept in.
We met in a hidden war chamber.
It was once built for the former Emperor—but no one really remembered him anymore.
I remembered.
He was a tyrant, even worse than my mother.
It always sent chills down my spine, imagining someone worse than Persephone.
Their battle was the reason my mother created Quintessa.
Stories said the fight was so great that the planet itself became a wasteland, and the atmosphere above it turned to frost.
One of the few haunting memories I have of her.
She erased everything of the old Emperor—claimed it all and left him in dust.
But the battle left its mark too. I think that's where she got the scar across her face, though she never spoke of it.
It was a cold spot she never let anyone near.
And now, like a traitor, I sat here, conspiring against her—against my own blood—with her subjects and her trusted consultant.
Amelia took charge.
You could see the cost of their tyranny in her.
Her skin was translucent, and the dark swirls around her eyes said she hadn't slept in days.
Still, there was a fierce, broken beauty in her.
The room grew tense.
Everyone on edge.
We all knew what we were about to do—and what would happen if this ever saw the light of day.
If my mother found out, death would be a mercy.
Amelia began, her voice cracked but unwavering.
Here we began the mission—the one great mission—to save the world from the Nefarious Empire. To end the reign of the demon queen and her heir.
But before she could continue, a commoner—Azis—spoke up, cutting the silence.
"Firstly, you brought the Queen's consort to this, and now her son—and not to mention, the father of the sociopathic heir, Athena!"
I had no strength left to defend myself.
An argument broke out, a loud, desperate clashing of voices about whether the mission was already compromised.
I sat still.
The anger wasn't really about me—it was about fear.
Fear for the future. Fear that we were already doomed.
Finally, I stood and spoke, loud enough to silence them:
"I am here because I made a mistake.
And now I want to fix it.
I beg you—give me the chance to correct it.
I can't do it alone. I'm not even sure we can do it together.
But we have no other choice."
There was a long silence.
And then Usul—the councilman—spoke, voice rough with loss.
"We're all here because we've lost something. Someone.
I've lost my wife, my sister... and now my children.
All for what?
What's the price of greatness if you have no one left to share it with?"
I had spoken with Usul before, but only in passing.
I knew he had suffered.
But seeing him now—broken, desperate—it struck something in me.
We were all desperate.
We were all throwing everything we had at a half-baked, last-hope rebellion.
But even the slightest chance of success was enough to make it worth it.
After Usul's words, the room shifted.
It didn't erase the tension—but something softer settled.
Understanding.
Most of them still didn't trust me.
But at least now, they understood me.
And so the planning began.
We decided to start small and work our way up.
The first strike would be against the Empire's grain reserves.
It wouldn't cripple Persephone—but it would send a message.
Someone was rising against her.
We weren't just sitting and taking it anymore.
From there, we would move slowly, infiltrating and sabotaging her barracks from within.
Usul already had men loyal to the cause—but they wouldn't move until we proved ourselves.
At least now, we had numbers.
And if we were caught, each of us had been given an instant-kill potion.
Better to die quickly than face Persephone—or Athena.
Even with all the preparation, there were still dangers we couldn't ignore.
The Queen's right-hand guard, "the Mountain," stood in our way.
A Nefarious being, crafted for one purpose: to protect Persephone.
Seven feet tall.
A walking nightmare.
Always silent. Always soaked in blood.
And then there was Quintessa—the sword.
Persephone alone was a terror, but Persephone with Quintessa?
Undefeatable.
We had to find a way to separate them.
There was so much to do.
And so much to lose.
And then, while Amelia was still speaking, Azis interrupted again.
His voice was hard.
Cold.
"How about Athena?
If everything else is handled—and you stand face-to-face with her—
Would you take her off the board?
Would you sacrifice your daughter for the greater good of the world?"
The room froze.
So did I.
My mouth opened—and no words came out.
What was I supposed to say?
I always knew this question would come.
In theory, it was easy.
In reality?
It was impossible.
All of them stared at me, waiting for an answer.
The only words I could force out were barely a whisper:
"I'll know... when the time comes."