The Villainess Is the Lead Role ( Season 2)
4. The Throne of the Moon
Scene: The Italian coastline, where the sea churns under a sky bruised with storm clouds. Lightning veins the horizon, but the moon remains hidden, as if bowing to a greater power
A convoy of sleek black cars snakes up a cliffside road, their headlights slicing through fog. The ocean roars below, a warning unheeded. At the road's end, a fortress emerges from the mist
**"Villa Dea Della Luna" The Goddess of the Moon**
An estate of cold marble and obsidian, carved into the cliffs like a scar. Gothic spires pierce the sky, and crystal windows gleam like eyes. Midnight roses choke the iron gates, their thorns glinting. Above the entrance, a silver crescent moon pulses faintly, a silent sovereign. The villa breathes power, its silence louder than the storm
The gates creak open, guards moving like specters. The cars halt, their engines dying in reverence. Doors open, but no words are spoken. Only one sound cuts the air: the slow, deliberate *tap... tap... of stiletto heels on tap of stone
Inside, a grand hall unfurls-a cathedral of shadow and splendor. Black marble floors mirror the chandelier's ghostly light. Velvet curtains sway, heavy with secrets. At the hall's heart, on a throne-like lounge of ivory and gold, sits **Astrid Fernandez
Her black satin gown flows like liquid night. pooling at her feet. A diamond choker glints at her throat, sharp as a blade. Her hair is swept back, severe yet regal. She lounges with predatory grace, one leg crossed, fingers tracing the armrest as if commanding the room's pulse
Two figures step into the light: Mira, her confidence fraying at the edges, es, and Dominique Brown, poised but wary, her eyes darting across the opulent void
Mira freezes, her breath catching as she meets Astrid's gaze
Mira
*Mira (whispered, almost reverent): Astrid... you're here?
Astrid rises, her movement fluid, deliberate. Her voice is velvet laced with frost, each word a decree
ASTRID FERNANDEZ
*Astrid:*
The shadows have served their purpose. Now, we carve our names into the light. Sit. Let us speak of empires... and blood
Thunder splits the sky, lightning framing Astrid's silhouette against the towering windows. The villa windows holds its breath, as if time itself kneels before her.
Scene fades as the storm rages, the crescent moon above the gate glowing brighter, a silent witness to the recoking within.
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