Two centuries had passed since the sacred prophecy was spoken long enough for legends to fade into myth, and for the empires of the world to forget the flames that once threatened to devour them all.
Yet history has a cruel way of repeating itself.
A devastating war had broken out once more, this time between the mighty Northern Empire and its relentless rival, the Southern Empire. The world trembled beneath the clash of steel and the roar of armies. Cities were reduced to ash, the skies stained red with blood. The Northern Empire, despite its once-proud strength, was now staggering beneath the weight of defeat. Its soldiers were weary, its cities in ruin, and its morale crushed.
But even amidst the despair, hope had a name.
Izar Esther, the youngest and only woman to ever rise to the rank of Knight Commander through her own sheer will, sweat, and swordsmanship. Feared by her enemies and revered by her allies, she bore the title "Ishtar", the warrior star of the North. Her blade danced like fire on the battlefield, and none could stand before her.
As the final battle loomed on the crimson horizon, Izar prepared to make one last stand for her homeland. Before she could take to the battlefield, her closest friend—a man she trusted more than anyone, a brother by bond if not by blood—approached her.
"Izar," he whispered with trembling eyes. "Let me embrace you… just once, before we face death."
Moved by the moment, she smiled and opened her arms.
But the warmth she expected never came.
Instead, she felt cold steel pierce her abdomen.
Eyes wide, her breath caught in her throat. Her vision blurred, pain wracking her body as she stumbled back, betrayed. His face remained cold, his hand steady on the hilt of the blade buried in her flesh.
And as darkness claimed her… Izar Esther, the Northern Empire's last hope, died.
But death, it seemed, was not the end.
She awoke.
The air was musty, the ceiling cracked and unfamiliar. She lay on a thin mattress in a dim, dusty room. Confusion and pain surged through her limbs as she struggled to rise. Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the floor.
In the reflection of an old, fractured mirror, she saw someone else.
The woman staring back at her had long, raven-black hair, pale skin, and wide, frightened eyes. Her battle-hardened frame was gone. Her short-cropped warrior's hair replaced by locks that framed a softer, unfamiliar face.
"Who… am I?" she whispered in disbelief.
Just then, the door creaked open, and a young woman rushed in. "Jiwon! Are you awake?!"
Izar flinched. "Who are you? Why are you calling me that? My name is not Jiwon!"
The girl halted in shock. "You… you don't remember me? It's me, Rossy! Your best friend. You work with me as a maid at the Lorine Mansion!"
"A maid…? What nonsense is this?" Izar demanded, her voice shaking. "Where am I? What year is it?"
Rossy's expression turned pale. "You're in the Southern Empire. It's the year 1567. Three days ago, you tried to kill yourself by jumping into the lake. You were unconscious ever since. I think… you might've lost all your memories."
"1567?" Izar echoed, her heart racing. "Southern Empire…? That's impossible. The war… what happened to the Northern Empire?"
Rossy hesitated. "It's over. The Northern Empire lost the war… three years ago."
Izar's breath caught in her throat. Three years?
The war is over?
Then… am I truly alive again? Reincarnated into this body named Jiwon?
No… I can't afford to panic. I need information.
She turned to Rossy. "Why did I—Jiwon—jump into the lake?"
Rossy lowered her gaze. "The lady of the Lorine Mansion sold you off. She arranged your marriage to an old, perverted noble to protect her own daughter. She even forged records to register you as her child."
Izar clenched her fists. "And she sacrificed this body's life to protect her real daughter?"
Rossy nodded. "You have to run. They're coming to take you right now!"
Before Rossy could finish, the door burst open.
"Dear Jiwon," the Lady of the Lorine Mansion cooed with a false smile. "Are you feeling better? Your fiancé has been terribly worried. Rossy, get her dressed. The guards will escort her soon."
Izar's jaw clenched, but she said nothing.
Meanwhile, far across the empire, a man stood before a grand obsidian window, staring down at a storm-battered city.
Drake Haint, Duke of the Order of Dark, and one of the most feared names in the empire, turned to his butler.
"Did you find the one leaking information to the Order of Light?"
"Yes, my lord. A mercenary from the Order of Dark. He's hiding in a small city named Lorine. He plans to marry the daughter of the Lorine household."
Drake's gaze turned sharp. "Prepare the cavalry. We leave for Lorine at dawn."
Back in Lorine, as the guards arrived to escort Jiwon, an ambush erupted. Swords clashed and chaos filled the streets. Amid the confusion, Jiwon was seized and thrown into a cell beneath the mansion, along with the Lord and Lady of the house.
In a whisper, the Lady hissed, "Don't say a word. Pretend to be our daughter. Don't ruin this!"
Moments later, a powerful presence filled the chamber.
Duke Drake Haint entered.
"Any last wish?" he asked coldly.
The Lord and Lady dropped to their knees, pleading for mercy. But the Duke simply removed his necklace.
A wave of dark, enchanting energy pulsed outward, blanketing the room.
The couple's eyes glazed over.
"I love you, Duke," they whispered in eerie unison. "Please… let us touch you…"
"I assure you," he replied, "you'll feel no pain."
And with a swift, elegant motion, he beheaded them both.
In the corner, Jiwon watched silently. Unflinching. Unmoved.
Drake turned toward her, surprised. His curse—his seductive, mind-altering aura—should have affected her. Yet she remained untouched.
"You… who are you?" he asked.
"I'm not their daughter," she said calmly. "To protect their real child, they made me take her place. She's already fled."
Drake narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?"
She stared at him, unwavering. "If you wanted me dead, you wouldn't be talking to me."
The Duke paused, intrigued. My power has seduced kings, warriors, even saints. But this woman… she's immune.
There was something different about her.
"Come with us," he said at last. "You're coming for interrogation."
Jiwon—no, Izar Ishtar, the former Knight Commander—knew better than to resist.
She nodded. "Very well."
And so, she boarded the carriage bound for the Duke's estate, her mind already racing with thoughts and strategies.
The game had begun once more.
But this time… she would play it her way.
To Be Continued....