My existence is no mere mortal's tale. It is a saga written in blood and etched in the bones of those who dared to cross me. Once, my heart beat solely for the woman I called mother. Now, it lies dormant, a cold, unyielding stone in my chest. Love, compassion, mercy – these are weaknesses I have purged from my being.

I will forge my own destiny, unbowed by the chains of expectation or the shackles of morality. Let the world tremble before my resolve, for it is the will of one who has gazed into the abyss and found it wanting. If this is tyranny, then I shall wear the mantle with pride and bathe in the terror it instills.

From this moment, I do not simply vow to destroy Domino – I will obliterate it, leaving naught but ashes and whispered nightmares in my wake. Those who dare stand against me will find themselves crushed beneath my heel, their very souls bent to my indomitable will. I will ascend to the throne of Kior, not as a mere ruler, but as an Empress whose reign will be carved into the fabric of history with a blade of unrelenting ambition.

My path forward is clear: I will manipulate, conquer, and subjugate. The weak will serve as stepping stones, the strong as conquests to be savored. I will become the embodiment of power, a force of nature that reshapes the very world to my design. The name Luxana will become synonymous with absolute dominion, a dark legend that mothers whisper to quiet their children.

Let it be known that my current aims are but a fraction of my true ambitions. I set my sights low not out of hesitation, but as a testament to my cunning. For when my plans come to fruition – and they will – the world will realize too late the true scope of my machinations. My efforts will know no bounds, my determination will eclipse the sun itself.

I am the coming storm, the shadow that will engulf all light. I am the tyrant who will rewrite history, whose reign will be spoken of in hushed, terrified tones for millennia to come. The screams of the vanquished will be my lullaby, the tears of the conquered my wine.

Behold, for I am Luxana, the Empress of Cinders, the Sovereign of Shadows. My ascension will be paved with the bones of the foolish, my throne built upon the ruins of empires. And when I stand atop the world, my dominion absolute, they will know that true power bows to no one – it simply takes what it desires.

Let the weak cower and the strong despair, for the aeon of Luxana has begun. And it will be glorious in its terror, magnificent in its cruelty, and eternal in its reign.

-Inside the Carriage, Outside the Sun Palace of Elmir; on The Regal Thoroughfare-

The carriage door swung open with a soft creak, revealing a striking exterior painted in deep, midnight blue that shimmered like the night sky. The contrast was stark against the opulent white interior, where plush cushions and draped silk beckoned with an air of elegance. I was ushered inside, my steps muffled by the thick carpet underfoot and the rich scent of polished wood and fine leather enveloped me. As the door closed behind me with a soft thud, the carriage lurched into motion, its finely crafted wheels rolling smoothly over the cobblestones of the Regal Thoroughfare.

Through the window, I glimpsed the Majestic Sun Palace of Elmir receded into the distance, its gleaming spires and alabaster walls shrinking with each passing moment. I left behind a maelstrom of unanswered questions and unspoken truths, a tempest of secrets that threatened to consume everything in its path. The weight of those mysteries swirling like dark clouds ready to unleash their fury pressed down upon me, a crushing burden that I had grown all too accustomed to bearing.

Across from me sat the three brothers, their presence as oppressive as the silence that hung heavy in the air. Fenris occupied the middle seat, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes burning with barely contained fury. Eamon and Idris flanked him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and disdain.

I sat alone, my gaze fixed upon the intricate patterns woven into the carriage floor. My face was a mask of impassivity, a skill honed through years of necessity. It was a facade I must maintain, lest I betray the tumultuous thoughts churning beneath the surface.

"Luxana," Fenris began, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the confined space. The anger in his tone was palpable, a living thing that seemed to coil around us all. "Why did you permit such proximity with that man?"

"..." I remained silent, my eyes tracing the swirling designs beneath my feet. The stillness of my features were absolute, as if I had been carved from marble by some master sculptor. It was a demeanor I had perfected, a shield against the prying eyes and probing questions that constantly sought to unravel my carefully guarded secrets.

"LUXANA." Fenris's voice exploded in the carriage, causing the very air to vibrate with his fury. His posture remained unchanged, but the tension in his body was evident, like a coiled spring ready to unleash its pent-up energy.

Eamon's cultured tones cut through the air, dripping with condescension. "Would you kindly stop feigning deafness? It's becoming rather exasperating." He punctuated his words with a dismissive tut, turning his gaze to the passing landscape beyond the carriage window.

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring. Then, with deliberate slowness, I raised my head. My eyes, cold and unyielding as winter frost, locked onto Eamon's. When I spoke, my voice was a blade, honed to a razor's edge and wielded with surgical precision.

"Oh, forgive me, Eamon. I wasn't feigning deafness—I was simply deciding whether your drivel deserved even a shred of my attention. Perspicuously, it didn't, and it never will." The words fell from my lips like drops of venom, each syllable carefully crafted to inflict maximum damage.

The effect was instantaneous. Eamon and Fenris's faces contorted with a mixture of shock and outrage, their carefully cultivated masks of superiority cracking under the weight of my disdain. They opened their mouths to retaliate, but before they could utter a sound, Idris erupted into peals of laughter.

He doubled over, clutching his stomach as if my words had physically struck him. Tears of mirth streamed down his face, his entire body shaking with the force of his amusement. "Luxana," he gasped between bouts of laughter, "you've reduced them to stunned silence with just a flick of your tongue! Truly, you're an artist in the craft of humiliation."

Idris's laughter echoed in the confined space, bouncing off the walls and amplifying the brothers' discomfort. "Eamon, Fenris, was that your pride I just heard shattering? Oh no, wait—it's just the sound of irrelevance catching up with you both." His words were daggers, each one finding its mark with unerring accuracy. "Go on, Eamon, Fenris, say something clever…oh wait, you can't, can you?"

His laughter redoubled, filling the carriage with a cacophony of mirth that stood in stark contrast to the seething silence of his brothers. Fenris and Eamon's faces darkened further, their jaws clenched so tightly that the muscles in their necks stood out like cords. They glared at Idris, their eyes burning with a mixture of humiliation and barely contained rage.

Yet, for all their fury, they remained silent. The weight of their impotent anger hung in the air, thick and suffocating. They had been outmaneuvered, their usual tactics of intimidation and condescension rendered useless against the razor-sharp wit that had been unleashed upon them.

As for me, I retreated once more behind my mask of indifference. My face resumed its cold, impassive expression, betraying nothing of the thoughts that roiled beneath the surface. The carriage rolled on, carrying us away from the Sun Palace and towards an uncertain future, fraught with danger and intrigue.

*Rattle*

The carriage suddenly lurched violently, its smooth journey interrupted by an unseen force. The world tilted on its axis, and I felt my body pitch forward, my carefully maintained composure shattered in an instant. It wasn't just me—Fenris, Eamon, and Idris were also thrown off balance, their bodies lurching in a chaotic dance of limbs and startled exclamations.

As we tumbled, Fenris's reflexes kicked in. His strong hands shot out, grasping my arms with an iron grip. We ended up in an undignified heap on the carriage floor, the pristine white interior now marred by our sprawled forms. My palms pressed against the cool surface, while Fenris's fingers dug into my flesh, his touch both protective and possessive.

The air in the carriage, once thick with tension, now crackled with a new energy—fear, confusion, and the first stirrings of adrenaline. Eamon's voice cut through the momentary silence, his words dripping with barely contained rage. "An ambush," he spat, his eyes darting around as if seeking an invisible enemy.

Fenris's face was suddenly inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. His eyes, usually filled with anger or disdain when directed at me, now burned with an intensity that spoke of determination and... was that concern? "Stay here," he commanded in a low, urgent whisper, "and don't look out of the window." The vulnerability that flashed across my features was genuine this time, my mask of indifference cracking under the weight of this unexpected turn of events.

As the three brothers rose to their feet, moving with the fluid grace of trained warriors, my mind raced. This doesn't make sense, I thought, watching them prepare to face whatever threat awaited outside. Idris was the last to exit, pausing to give me a curt nod before locking the carriage door behind him. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed ominously in the confined space.

The unmistakable sound of swords being unsheathed pierced the air, followed by a moment of eerie silence. Then, without warning, a spray of crimson splattered against the window. My eyes widened in shock, my heart hammering against my ribs with such force I feared it might burst from my chest.

Despite Fenris's warning—or perhaps because of it—I found myself drawn to the gruesome scene outside. Slowly, carefully, I crawled towards the carriage door. My fingers trembled as I grasped the edge of the curtain, peeling it back just enough to peer out.

The sight that greeted me would be forever etched into my memory, a tableau of horror that defied comprehension. There, on the cold, unforgiving ground of the Regal Thoroughfare, lay Fenris, Eamon, and Idris. Their bodies, once so full of life and arrogance, were now broken and still. Blood pooled beneath them, staining the cobblestones a deep, angry red.

But it was the final act of this macabre play that truly chilled me to my core. As I watched, frozen in disbelief, a sword was slowly, almost lovingly, withdrawn from Idris's chest. The blade gleamed wetly in the light, dripping with the lifeblood of a man who, mere moments ago, had been laughing at his brothers' expense.

The world seemed to slow, each second stretching into an eternity as I struggled to process what I was witnessing. The three brothers, who had been my tormentors and protectors, lay slain just feet away from me.

The carriage door swung open with a foreboding creak, revealing a figure that seemed to emerge from the very shadows themselves. A man clad in tight black attire stood before me, his lean frame exuding an air of both agility and strength. His body was sculpted, muscles defined beneath the fabric, and his raven-black hair framed a face partially obscured by a mask that covered everything up to the upper lateral cartilage of his nose. But it was his eyes—fiery red orbs—that captivated me, glowing with a predatory intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

As our gazes locked, an electric tension filled the air. In a swift motion, he reached out and seized my right arm with his left hand, yanking me upward with surprising force. The action sent a wave of déjà vu crashing over me, as if I had been caught in this very moment before. His right arm encircled my waist, pulling me close, our bodies mere inches apart. I could feel the heat radiating from him, mingling with my own rising unease.

Leaning in, he whispered into my ear, his breath warm and tantalizing. "I must admit, I had rather fancied the thought of you gracing me with a fond farewell, as is customary in polite society. Alas, it seems I was left wanting." His voice was smooth like silk, yet laced with an undertone of mischief.

My eyes widened in recognition as the familiarity of his voice washed over me like a wave. "Cillian?" I blurted out, my gaze darting to meet his.

A soft chuckle escaped him, the sound both disarming and unsettling. "Sorry to startle you," he replied, his tone lightening as he flashed a smile that was barely visible beneath the tight fabric covering his face. "But I anticipated you were feeling uncomfortable with those brats. So I decided to help."

His rapid shifts in personality left me bewildered; one moment he was intimidatingly close, and the next he was teasingly playful. "I like how fast your personality changes," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "At times I want to punch you, and at times I want to thank you. But really, you leave no room for anyone to think well of you."

"AH HA? I seeeee...," he exclaimed dramatically, releasing my shoulders and pushing me gently out of his embrace as if I were nothing more than a fleeting thought. "Very well then," he continued with feigned seriousness. "Anyway, you should be—"

A surge of reddish-orange magical energy erupted from the carriage, swirling around me like a fiery tempest, leaving Cillian behind, unacknowledged in the chaos. The vibrant hues flickered and danced in the air, reminiscent of dragon flames unleashed, casting an ethereal glow that illuminated the darkened surroundings.