The Ashes of Selene

Selene Ravencourt died in the rain.

The sky wept as her blood soaked the marble steps of the palace—her home turned graveyard. Betrayed. Abandoned. Alone. Her last breath was stolen by the very man who once whispered love into her ear. And as darkness claimed her, her heart whispered one final vow:

> “I will return. And I will make them pay.”

Flames licked her consciousness. Heat. Pain. The scent of roses and smoke.

Then—light.

Selene gasped awake.

She wasn’t in the palace anymore. No blood. No cold marble beneath her. She was in a warm bed, silk sheets tangled around her limbs, her chest heaving.

> “What…?”

A mirror across the room caught her attention. Her reflection stared back—unmarred. Young. Seventeen.

> “I’m… back?”

“This is my old room. Before the engagement. Before the betrayal…”

The room hadn’t changed—pink silk curtains, ivory furniture, and that stupid porcelain unicorn her mother gave her on her fifteenth birthday. It was two years before her death.

She was alive.

She was reborn.

---

That day, everything changed.

Selene didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. The emotions came later—like a slow, burning fever. Horror at the memory of her death. Rage at the people who stood by and let it happen. Her parents, the nobles, the court…

And him.

Damien Blackthorn.

The man she once loved. The man who killed her.

She had trusted Damien. The young heir to the Blackthorn Empire, known across the continent for his cold heart and colder business dealings. But to her, he had been warmth. Laughter. Nights under the stars.

Until he had placed a dagger in her back.

Now, reborn in her teenage body, Selene swore it would be different.

> “No one will use me this time. No one will break me.”

She had two years before the betrayal. Two years to learn, to grow, to sharpen her claws.

And when the time came… she would destroy them all.

---

A Second Chance, A New Mask

Selene didn’t waste a moment.

By dawn, she began digging through old journals and family records. In her first life, she’d been naive—a pampered doll in a golden cage. Not this time. She practiced smiling in the mirror, perfecting the expression of innocence she once wore effortlessly.

But beneath it all, her soul burned with revenge.

At breakfast, her parents barely noticed the subtle change. Her father, Lord Ravencourt, sipped his wine and muttered about trade. Her mother obsessed over the debutante season and fashion scandals.

They didn’t see her. Not really.

And that was fine. Let them think she was still the delicate flower they raised.

It gave her cover.

> “Soon enough, you’ll see me bloom in fire.”

---

An Invitation from the Devil

Two weeks into her new life, the letter arrived.

She recognized the crest before she opened it: a black thorn entwined with silver.

> The Blackthorn family.

Her fingers trembled, but her face remained calm. She broke the seal and read:

> “Lord Damien Blackthorn cordially invites Lady Selene Ravencourt to the Moonlight Masquerade in honor of his eighteenth birthday.”

A party. The same party where it all began.

> “So it begins again…”

Her heart warred with itself. Part of her wanted to burn the letter. To scream. To run.

But she had made a vow. She would face him.

And this time, she would be the one holding the blade.

---

The Masquerade of Lies

The Moonlight Masquerade was held in the Blackthorn estate—a sprawling gothic palace draped in midnight roses and gold.

Selene arrived draped in crimson silk, a phoenix mask covering half her face. She felt his gaze before she saw him.

Damien Blackthorn stood near the fountain, a black mask obscuring his eyes. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black velvet and silver thread. Dangerous. Magnetic. Too handsome for a monster.

Their eyes met across the ballroom.

> “Selene,” he said, voice like velvet. “You came.”

> “Of course,” she replied, her smile sharp. “How could I miss your grand return to society?”

He tilted his head. “You look… different.”

> “So do you.”

“Older. Colder. Sharper.”

He chuckled. “You’ve always had a bite. I like that.”

> “You’ll choke on it one day,” she whispered in her mind.

They danced.

Their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, like before. The memory of his touch haunted her. She remembered nights wrapped in his arms, laughter shared, secrets whispered.

Was it all a lie?

> “Tell me, Damien,” she said sweetly. “What is it you want from me this time?”

He blinked. Just a flicker. But she saw it—the hint of surprise.

> “Nothing but your company… for now.”

---

A Dangerous Game Begins

The rest of the night blurred in a haze of music, laughter, and veiled threats. Damien watched her with intensity, suspicion creeping into his gaze.

Good.

Let him wonder.

Selene returned home with her heart pounding and her mind racing. Damien was still the same—arrogant, enigmatic, dangerous. But she was different now.

She had fire in her veins.

And she would burn his empire to ash if it meant justice.

---

The Flame of the Phoenix

Over the following weeks, Selene began weaving her web.

She charmed the court, smiled at the nobles, and flattered the advisors. She uncovered secrets buried in family ledgers, blackmailed corrupt officials, and recruited allies from the shadows.

By day, she played the perfect debut.

By night, she studied the Blackthorn’s holdings, looking for cracks in their empire.

And always, Damien lingered.

He sent her gifts. Flowers. Letters. Invitations.

She accepted each one, pretending to fall under his spell again—while sharpening her knives.

But there were moments… flickers of doubt.

When his eyes softened. When his touch was gentle. When he looked at her like he truly cared.

> “Is it possible?” she whispered one night. “Did he ever love me?”

Her heart ached.

> “No. I can’t afford to believe that. Not again.”

---

The Price of Vengeance

One night, Selene stood on the balcony of her chamber, watching the moonlight ripple across the lake.

She had just returned from another dinner at the Blackthorn estate. Damien had told her a story from his childhood. He laughed. She laughed. And for a moment… she had forgotten.

Forgotten the dagger.

Forgotten the betrayal.

> “I can’t let this happen,” she whispered.

> “He killed me.”

> “He doesn’t get to steal my heart again.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she let them fall. No one was watching.

> “I am vengeance,” she reminded herself.

> “I am the phoenix.”

But deep in her chest, where the fire raged… something else stirred.

Something dangerously close to love.

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