Memories of the time I struggled to accept my fate were a plague to me; they consumed my thoughts. As I watched Death play with her toys, more visions continued to flow.The smoke from the village still clung to my skin as I wandered deeper into the wilderness. Every step I took away from the ashes of my home weighed heavier than the last. My foster parents’ screams still echoed in my mind, twisting in my chest until I thought my heart might burst.I should have died with them. That’s what the villagers wanted. That’s what fate should have given me. But no, the lilies bloomed at my feet, and the fire spared me, as though the curse itself had shielded me.I hated it. I hated the way the flowers curled toward me, as if I were their sun. I hated the way my blood seemed to hum when danger came near, sharpening my senses like a blade. Most of all, I hated the name that now haunted me: daughter of Evilside.But as much as I wanted to deny it, the forest whispered otherwise. Every tree leane

Hakaya’s POVI remembered coming home. I was glad to be home with my daughter, but others would still not accept me. I would have to discipline them.The day the banners rose against me, I finally understood what it meant to be feared.It began with whispers. My scouts, boys and girls barely older than I, came running into camp with wide eyes and trembling voices. Villages beyond the river had gathered men, armed them with whatever steel they could steal or forge. They marched under no king’s banner but their own, a crude symbol daubed in ash and blood: a lily crushed beneath a boot.“They mean to end you,” one scout gasped.The words should have terrified me. Instead, they ignited something hot in my veins.At last, the world acknowledged me not just as a cursed girl or wandering queen, but as a power worth rising against.I stood before my rebels that night. Dozens now, where once there had been only a handful. Men with scars, women with fire in their eyes, children who had lost eve

Hakaya’s POVThe scout’s words spread like wildfire. By dawn, every man and woman in the camp knew: the king was coming for us.Fear trembled through the ranks, but so did excitement. For months, we had lingered in the shadows, raiding outposts, gathering followers, testing our strength. But now the war would blaze into the open.I would reclaim the lands that were stolen when my husband perished.I stood before them with the crown pulsing against my skull, my voice carrying across the camp. “He calls me a usurper. He calls you traitors. He believes his throne is untouchable. Tomorrow, we show him the truth.”The roar of my rebels shook the ground.But in my heart, a storm brewed. Victory meant blood. Defeat meant death. There would be no more hiding after this.We marched at dawn, banners snapping in the wind. The lilies bloomed in our wake, carpeting the hills with violet flame. Farmers and villagers watched from their fields, some spitting curses, others dropping to their knees in

Hakaya’s POVThe throne was barely warm beneath me when the first rebellion began.It started in whispers, as rebellions always do. The people muttered in the markets, priests cursed me in their sermons, and merchants plotted in their gilded halls. I knew it would come, but knowing did not lessen the sting when it did.The first sign came with the bells.I was in council with the remnants of the noble houses when the sound rang across the city, deep, frantic, warning. The courtiers froze, eyes darting to me.“What is it?” I demanded.A guard burst through the doors, panting. “The people, my queen. They’ve taken the south quarter. Hundreds march with fire and steel.”My rebels leapt to their feet, hands on hilts. The courtiers muttered prayers, some daring to smile at my peril.I rose slowly. The crown’s thorns pressed into my skull, eager. “Then let us meet them.”The south quarter burned.Flames licked the eaves of houses, and smoke billowed into the sky. Men and women surged through

Hakaya’s POVThe victory against the Alliance’s first strike should have steadied my people, but instead it bred unease. Too many bodies lay in shallow graves outside the walls, too many homes burned to ash. Hope was fragile, and whispers carried farther than banners.I walked the throne room alone one evening, the lilies blooming at each step. Their perfume was thick, almost cloying, yet it no longer comforted me. I felt them feeding on the blood spilled in my name, roots burrowing deeper than stone.A soft sound pulled me from my thoughts.“Your Majesty.”I turned. One of my captains, a young woman named Elira, knelt at the doors. She had fought beside me since the valley, her sword quick, her loyalty fierce. But her eyes now held something I did not recognize…guilt.“What is it?” I asked.She rose slowly, wringing her hands. “There are rumors, my queen. Whispers that… not all in the council stand with you. That some would see the Alliance win.”The crown pulsed at my temples, thorn