Morning light spilled across the city like forgiveness.
I stood by the window, coffee untouched, watching people hurry below—unaware of the wars that had ended above them.
For the first time, I wasn't planning.
I was choosing.
—
I could've been crueler.
I could've erased more names.
I didn't.
That mattered.
—
Power had changed me.
But it hadn't hollowed me.
I was still capable of restraint.
Of loyalty.
Of mercy—when earned.
—
I reviewed my reflection.
Not the girl who begged.
Not the woman who burned everything in her path.
Something sharper.
Calmer.
Complete.
—
I didn't regret my revenge.
I regretted the necessity of it.
That was the line I'd crossed—and survived.
—
People would call me ruthless.
Let them.
Ruthless women rewrite history.
—
I made my final decision that day.
I would not rule through fear.
Fear is unstable.
I would rule through inevitability.
—
My empire would outlive rumors.
Outlast enemies.
Endure without me.
—
I sent one last message to my past.
Not to my sister.
Not to him.
To myself.
You survived. You won. You are free.
—
The city reflected my image back at me.
Not as a ghost.
As a force.
—