She died once.
But then she got another chance to live. But that chance was also a risky one. But this time she refused to die. She is not going to give up without a fight. This time, she will fight for herself. For her life. This time, she was stro...
The curtains danced in the golden light of afternoon, their soft velvet glowing like fire caught in silk. A gentle wind slipped in through the half-open window, curling into the room like a secret, making the curtains sway. Tiny silver bells stitched along the edges jingled faintly-like whispers from another world.
The chamber was vast, quiet, and heavy with a kind of noble silence. Everything inside it spoke of power, of old wealth. A grand portrait of a nobleman hung proudly on the wall, his painted eyes forever watching. The frame around him was thick with gold. The walls behind him were covered in deep red wallpaper, laced with golden vines and leaves that shimmered when the light touched them.
Two enormous bookshelves stood guard on either side of the room, filled with leather-bound books-some new, many ancient. Their spines were faded, some cracked, some wrapped in silk ribbons, as if they carried more than just words-memories, maybe.
To the right, a golden cage gleamed like a treasure chest. Inside, a majestic white peacock stood tall and still, its feathers glowing in the sun like fallen snow. The cage door was open, yet the bird stayed inside, by choice or by pride. Its emerald eyes blinked slowly, watching the world with quiet judgment.
In the heart of the room sat a grand oak table, polished to a mirror-like shine. It held nothing but a few neatly stacked papers and a crystal inkwell. Behind it, in a chair carved from dark wood, sat a man.
He was still, calm, like a painting come to life.
He wore a crisp white shirt with softly puffed sleeves, tucked beneath a finely stitched waistcoat. Golden thread wound through it like sunlight caught in thread. The evening light poured in through the window behind him, wrapping his form in warmth. His blouse had a high collar and gentle ruffles at the throat that fluttered with every breath he took. Thin golden chains draped across his chest, falling like stars in a slow descent, each one threaded through gleaming brooches that caught fire when the light struck them.
On his shoulders rested golden epaulettes, like pieces of an old crown, the tassels moving gently, recalling the rhythm of a war long past. Each delicate chain seemed to tell a story-of alliances formed and kingdoms bowed. A few military medals hung on the left side of his waistcoat.
His soft golden hair fell in neat waves, glowing beneath the sunlight. His mysterious green eyes, deep and unreadable, stayed fixed on the paper in his gloved hands. His legs were crossed with elegance, his left hand resting on the chair's arm, fingers curled slightly-as if he held something invisible.
He looked like he belonged to a different time.
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He was not just handsome. He was beautiful-so much that it almost hurt to look at him for too long. As if the gods had taken their time, shaping every detail with care. Every blink, every breath, seemed measured and calm.
His soft lips parted just slightly, a whisper of movement.
Then-without warning-the peace of the chamber was broken.
