Kira's throat burned as though someone had poured molten iron straight down her mouth.
The agony spread through every breath she tried to take, clawing from the back of her tongue into her chest until even swallowing became impossible. She instinctively clutched at her neck, her fingers scraping desperately against skin that felt as though it were being flayed from the inside. Her lips parted in an attempt to scream, but only a broken rush of air escaped. No voice followed. Not even the faintest sound.
Panic surged through her as she struggled against the heavy chains locking her wrists behind her back. The iron dug painfully into her skin every time she moved, yet she barely noticed. All she could think about was the fire consuming her throat. She tried again to call for help, forcing every ounce of strength into a single cry.
Nothing.
The realization struck harder than the pain itself.
Lyra had done exactly what she'd promised.
The liquid lye hadn't been meant to kill her. It had been meant to make sure she died unheard.
The laughter surrounding the execution platform suddenly became deafening.
"So that's the great Lady Kira?"
"I expected a traitor to at least beg for her life."
"Look at her. She can't even speak."
The jeers rolled through the Imperial Square while thousands of people watched from beyond the barricades. Some pointed at her with open disgust. Others shook their heads as though disappointed that the Empire's greatest criminal looked so pitiful. Snow drifted quietly across the square, settling over the wooden scaffold and the shoulders of the executioner standing only a few steps away.
Kira barely noticed them.
Her eyes searched frantically through the sea of familiar faces until they found the man standing beneath the imperial banner.
Her father.
Lord Solis stood with perfect posture, dressed in the formal robes of the Imperial Court. His face remained calm, almost expressionless, as though the woman kneeling in chains before him had never carried the Solis name. Not once did he look in her direction. Not once did he question the accusations that had condemned her. The daughter who had spent years protecting her family's reputation had become nothing more than a stain he wished to erase.
Something inside her quietly broke.
Her gaze shifted again, finding the two figures standing together near the front of the platform.
Julian.
Lyra.
The sight still hurt, even after everything.
Julian's hand rested gently around Lyra's waist while she leaned against him with tear-filled eyes, hiding behind an embroidered silk handkerchief. They looked every bit like a grieving prince comforting his heartbroken fiancée. Anyone watching would have believed they were mourning Kira's betrayal.
Only Kira knew how much of it was a lie.
The memory returned with terrifying clarity.
A cold prison cell.
The smell of damp stone.
Lyra crouching in front of her with a porcelain bottle clasped between delicate fingers.
"Open your mouth, Elder Sister," she'd said softly, smiling as though she were offering medicine instead of poison. "The executioner asked whether you had any final words tomorrow. I thought I'd save everyone the trouble of listening to another lie."
Kira had refused.
Lyra had simply smiled wider before pinching her jaw and forcing the burning liquid down her throat.
The pain had been unbearable.
Even now, she could still taste it.
The execution drums began to echo across the square, each slow beat tightening the knot in her chest.
The herald stepped forward and unrolled the imperial decree before raising his voice high enough for the entire capital to hear.
"Lady Kira Solis, by decree of His Imperial Majesty, you have been found guilty of treason against the Empire. According to Imperial law, the condemned is granted one final opportunity to address the court before the sentence is carried out."
One final opportunity.
The words almost made her laugh. She opened her mouth. Her lips trembled. Nothing came out.
Not because she refused to speak.
Because she couldn't.
The crowd watched impatiently, mistaking her silence for arrogance.
Julian lowered his eyes. Lyra quietly dabbed at tears that didn't exist.
No one understood that her final words had already been stolen hours ago. The executioner slowly lifted his sword.
Its polished blade caught the pale winter sunlight before stopping above her bowed head. Kira closed her eyes.
She no longer prayed for someone to save her. She no longer wished for Julian to remember everything she had sacrificed.
She no longer cared whether the truth would ever be known. Only one thought remained.
If Heaven truly exists...
Please... Give me one more chance.
The blade fell.
...
Kira jerked upright with a sharp gasp, her lungs dragging in air so quickly that they ached. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs while both hands flew instinctively to her neck. Instead of warm blood, her fingertips found smooth skin.
She blinked several times before the room slowly came into focus. There were no chains.
No execution platform. No snow. She sat before an elaborate vanity carved from white oak while two young maids carefully adjusted jeweled pins through her long dark hair. Bright morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows, filling the room with warmth as cheerful music drifted in from the gardens outside. Somewhere beyond the balcony, guests laughed while servants hurried through the estate preparing for the celebration. Kira stared at her reflection without moving.
The young woman in the mirror looked exactly as she had a year before her death. Her skin was untouched by prison, her wrists free of bruises, and her eyes still carried the softness that life had long since stolen from her.
Almost afraid of what she might discover, she slowly raised a trembling hand to her throat.
"My..." The word escaped so quietly she almost didn't hear it.
She froze.
"My voice..." It was weak after the nightmare, barely louder than a whisper, but it was there.
Real, Her throat didn't burn. No pain followed.
The simple sound shattered something inside her.
Tears blurred her vision as they rolled silently down her cheeks. She wiped them away almost immediately before either maid could notice, though they exchanged puzzled glances all the same. They assumed the young lady had simply become emotional. After all, today was her twentieth birthday. By tonight, the Crown Prince would officially announce their engagement before the entire Imperial Court.
Only Kira knew why she was crying.
She slowly turned toward the embroidered calendar hanging beside the window.
The date stared back at her. Exactly one year before her execution.
This wasn't the beginning of her tragedy. It was the beginning of her second chance.
A gentle knock sounded against the bedroom door before the elderly head maid entered with a respectful bow.
"Miss," she said with a warm smile, "Lady Lyra is waiting outside. She said she wished to help you prepare for the banquet."
The warmth disappeared from Kira's face. Every memory of that morning returned at once.