𝐈'𝐦 𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥 (𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃)

Epilogue 1: Please Don't Wake the Empress No More

The years had been kind to the empire, flowing like a golden river far away from the blood-soaked banks of my forgotten first life. The phantom horrors that used to haunt our steps had shrunk to nothing more than dust. We had carved out a world of genuine peace.

Asterios was now sixteen, a young man of striking stature and an exemplary crown prince. He still possessed the perfect male lead formula—that ridiculous, overrated combination of pitch-black hair and piercing red eyes—but he had grown into his duties with a brilliant, quiet grace that commanded the respect of the entire court.

Ariadne, too, had grown up marvelously. She was as radiant and fierce as ever, a brilliant spark in a sometimes tedious palace.

My father had recently retired, passing the mantle of the North to my brother.

And since Xavier had firmly decided never to marry, he had officially declared his niece, Ariadne, as his sole heir.

Ariadne had been absolutely thrilled by the announcement; Xavier had always been her favorite uncle, and the fierce northern territories suited her wild, untamed spirit perfectly.

But as the empire bloomed, my own seasons were drawing to an unexpected, premature close.

I was not even forty yet, but my body had begun to betray me. The very same illness that had stolen my mother's life when I was young had come to claim mine.

When the royal physician finally broke the news to us, confirming that my time in this world was severely limited, Arsen looked as though his entire soul had been torn from his chest. He was utterly devastated.

But true to my prideful nature, I refused to allow anyone to look at me with pity. I had always been stubborn, always acted tough, holding my spine perfectly straight even when the agonizing pain in my chest made it difficult to breathe. I was the empress. I would not crumble.

Late that night, the heavy silence of our private chambers was broken only by the crackle of the fireplace.

Arsen sat beside my bed, his broad shoulders slumped, his eyes hollowed out by a bottomless sorrow. The fierce emperor looked so small, drowning in a grief he couldn't fight with a sword.

Looking at the flickering flames, my mind drifted back to my childhood. Now that I was standing exactly where my mother stood, I could truly admire her mindset.

She was graceful, brave, and utterly immaculate until her very last breath. I tried so hard to embody her since I was a little girl, but everything about her was just too impressive. I realized a long time ago that I was decidedly not. But I made peace with that fact now that I was older.

I turned to Arsen. A bitter sweetness twisted in my chest.

Reaching out, I placed my pale hand over his, trying to offer what little comfort I could.

"Arsen," I murmured, my voice weak but steady. "Do you remember when my mother died?"

He swallowed hard, looking up at me, his throat moving as he tried to speak.

"We didn't hold a traditional, somber memorial service," I continued, a faint smile touching my lips as the memory washed over me. "We held a celebration of her life instead. We covered the entire estate in her favorite flowers, played the music she loved the most, and wore the brightest, most vibrant colors we could find. Everyone gathered to talk, to sing, and to celebrate every beautiful thing she brought into this world." I paused, taking a deep breath, before giving him a small smile. "I want that for myself, Arsen. When I am gone, do not let this palace drown in black."

Arsen's breath hitched, a choked sound escaping his throat as he nodded, processing my request.

***

A few months later, the final winter had settled deep into my bones.