Episode 1

They dressed me in white.

Soft silk, embroidered with golden roses — the crest of House Dravik. The gown shimmered like snow under candlelight, a symbol of purity, nobility... and, as I would soon learn, sacrifice. My reflection in the mirror looked serene, doll-like — as if I belonged to someone else.

The room buzzed with activity. Maids rushed around, adjusting my veil, smoothing wrinkles, placing perfume behind my ears. They fussed over every strand of hair, every misplaced thread, every trembling breath I exhaled. I thought it was excitement. Nerves. The weight of a noble wedding. But now, looking back... it was fear. Pity.

They already knew I was going to die.

Leira, my personal maid, stood behind me with the final touch — a silver necklace with a delicate sapphire drop. Her hands shook as she fastened it around my neck.

"You're beautiful, my lady," she said, her voice a fragile whisper.

I smiled. "Thank you."

I believed her. I believed in a lot of things that day.

I believed that Caelan Dravik loved me. That this union was the beginning of something new, something powerful — not just politically, but personally. I'd grown up watching him from a distance, a noblewoman from a lesser house promised to a man far above me. He was everything a girl could dream of: poised, intelligent, dangerous in the way only powerful men could be.

He had chosen me.

Or so I thought.

The bells tolled. It was time.

The chapel was bathed in golden light, stained-glass windows painting the floor with shards of crimson and sapphire. Nobles filled the pews, dressed in their finest. Whispers floated through the air — about my dress, my house, the alliance this wedding would seal. About Caelan.

And about me.

At the end of the long aisle, Caelan waited. Tall, composed, dressed in black and silver. A blade in a sea of silk. His expression unreadable, his eyes fixed on me.

I held my head high and walked.

Each step echoed like a heartbeat. The world felt surreal — a dream wrapped in flowers and ceremony. My heart raced, not with fear, but anticipation. I was becoming his. We would rule together. Change the kingdom. Rewrite fate.

The priest began his words. Ritual. Vows. Sacred promises.

I barely heard them. My gaze never left Caelan's.

Then —

The doors slammed open.

Steel boots on marble. A line of guards marched in, led by a man in dark armor bearing the royal crest. Murmurs rose into shouts. My father stood. My mother gasped. The priest fell silent.

The man’s voice cut through the chaos.

"Elyria Valenne, by decree of the Crown, you are under arrest for treason."

Silence fell like a guillotine.

I blinked.

"W-what?" I whispered.

The head guard stepped forward, unfurling a scroll. "For conspiracy against House Dravik, espionage, and intent to assassinate Duke Caelan."

Laughter burst from my lips — hollow, disbelieving. "This is absurd. I would never—"

Chains clinked. Iron gripped my wrists.

I turned to Caelan.

He stepped forward slowly, expression cold. Not surprised. Not shocked.

"Caelan," I said. "You know this isn't true. Tell them. Please."

He met my gaze.

And said nothing.

My heart cracked.

"You believe this? You—you think I betrayed you?"

His voice was soft. Final.

"I’m sorry, Elyria."

The world spun. My knees gave out, but the guards held me up.

"This isn’t happening," I whispered. "This isn’t—"

They dragged me away. Past nobles who turned their faces. Past friends who averted their eyes. Past the altar where I had almost spoken my vows.

Almost.

The dungeon stank of mold and blood. My gown was ruined — torn, soiled, the golden roses stained red.

I screamed for hours. For justice. For my father. For Caelan.

No one came.

They said I’d confessed. That I’d been plotting for months. That I had poisoned letters and secret alliances.

I denied everything.

No one listened.

At dawn, they brought me to the courtyard.

Nobles stood in silence. A crowd watched as the executioner sharpened his blade.

Caelan was there.

I met his eyes one last time.

I wanted to see doubt. Regret. Love.

I saw nothing.

"Do you have any last words?" the herald asked.

I looked to the sky.

"I was loyal," I whispered.

The blade fell.

I woke with a scream.

My eyes flew open. My lungs burned. My heart raced.

I was in my chambers. My bed. Silk sheets tangled around me.

Sunlight streamed through the windows.

Leira stood at the foot of the bed, holding a familiar dress — white silk embroidered with golden roses.

"It’s time to get ready, my lady," she said. "Your wedding day has come."

I stared at her. At the dress. At the day I knew too well.

This wasn’t possible.

"Leira," I said slowly. "What day is it?"

She blinked. "The day you marry Duke Caelan, of course."

My hands trembled. I rose, crossed to the mirror.

The same mirror. The same gown. The same necklace.

Everything was the same.

"No," I whispered. "I died. I died."

Leira paused, concern flickering across her face. "Are you feeling unwell, my lady?"

I gripped the edge of the vanity. My reflection stared back — pale, wide-eyed, terrified.

This wasn’t a dream. It was real. Too vivid, too sharp.

The door opened. A maid entered with a tray of tea and sweets.

"For the bride," she said cheerfully.

I recognized the cup.

I had drunk from it that morning — before the wedding.

What if the poison was there? What if this was how they started it?

I slapped the tray away.

Porcelain shattered. Tea splashed. The maid gasped.

Leira rushed to me. "My lady!"

"Don’t touch me!" I shouted. "I—I need to think. Just leave me!"

They hesitated. Then, slowly, bowed and left.

I was alone.

I collapsed into the chair, breathing hard.

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t madness.

I had died.

And now... I was back.

Somehow, the day had restarted.

But why? How?

Was it a second chance?

A punishment?

Or something worse?

I didn’t know.

But I did know one thing:

I was not going to walk down that aisle again.

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