In the afternoon of a chilly winter day, in a room tucked away in the farthest, most remote corner of Duke Thorian Vexwell's estate, a beautiful yet frail woman lay on the bed, tugging on the chains tied to her legs. It had been two weeks since she was locked up, chained, and shunned by everyone in the duke's estate. Lilianne Ravenscourt, the Duchess of Velmira and once the most beautiful woman in the land, was now rotting away in a small, enclosed room as the plague in her body slowly consumed her.

She had been trying to free herself ever since her husband locked her in this hellhole. After she caught him in bed with her best friend, who was now his mistress. 

Lilianne lay there, staring vacantly at the ceiling as she thought about her life, she had been a good daughter and, later, a good wife, but neither her father nor her husband ever treated her kindly. To them, she was just baggage they couldn't get rid of.

Her father had seen her as a thorn ever since her mother passed away. He remarried immediately, quickly creating a new family and doting on his new daughter. When Lilianne came of age, he handed her over to the duke in a marriage arranged by the former emperor. He was too glad to be rid of her.

Growing up ignored, Lily hoped that marriage would bring her the family she had always dreamed of, but fate once again was cruel to her. Her husband ignored her while courtesans visited the estate daily. 

Her only solace had been the friendship she shared with Rigella Hemlington, daughter of Baron Maxwell Helmington. Like Lily, Rigella had also been raised by a stepmother. Their shared hardships had pulled them close until the day Lily found Rigella and her husband in bed together.

The betrayal was the final straw that completely broke her, and she fell ill just days later. It started with a cough since it was winter she didn't think much and assumed it was a cold Then, a few evenings after that it got worse she begged some maids to get her a doctor but only some guards arrived in the evening dragging her to an old house at the corner of the estate and locking her in.

The servants would toss bread from the doorway every few days, holding their noses as if she were already dead. She survived on that, wishing death would come sooner, but as the days passed, it became clear even death didn't want her.

The longer she stayed in that room, the more she thought about everything that had happened. One week in, she overheard the guards talking in hushed voices at the door.

"Why is she the only one with the plague? Isn't it contagious? Wouldn't it have spread throughout the capital by now?" one guard asked.

"This is just a rumour, but I heard the duke went to the black market and bought some clothes infected with plague from a merchant who came from the Diguo Empire, which is currently ravaged by it. Then he placed the clothes in the duchess's room," the other guard replied.

Lily sat up, jerking awake in shock.

"Why?" the first guard asked, confusion visible in his voice.

Lily moved closer to the wall, placing her ear against it, her long black hair falling over her face.

"Didn't you hear?" the second guard said in a lowered voice. "The duke wants to marry Missus Rigella. To do that, they need to get rid of the current duchess."

Lily's hands trembled, she clenched her jaw and sat there in stunned silence, as if lightning struck her. She had been ready to die a few minutes ago. She said nothing when she caught them together in bed red-handed, blaming it on her fate. She was willing to accept death, but now she knew the truth. They were trying to kill her. That changed everything. She couldn't face her mother in the afterlife, knowing she gave up so easily.

"I promise to endure this miserable life as long as I can. And if I die, I promise to haunt you both," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, her red-rimmed eyes bulging out of their sockets.

Two weeks later, she was still alive, still trying to free herself. A week of struggling, the plague, and her fading strength had drained her. Though she longed for revenge, she could feel death hovering closer than ever.

She lay there praying. As she tugged the chains with every ounce of strength she had left, which left her out of breath, she then tugged one last time on the chains as hard as she could. A loud snap echoed through the room. She first thought she was dreaming, but she lifted her leg, and it was free. She had finally broken out of her captivity. 

She stared at the ceiling, whose every crack was now familiar after weeks of confinement. She coughed and slowly stood up. Her muscles were stiff as she wobbled, falling on the bed, but she stood up and raised her hand, which was blackened by gangrene.

She stood up weakly, dizzy, and shuffled to the door, peeking outside. It was snowing heavily and no guard was in sight. She exhaled and stepped into the snow, walking toward the duke's bedchamber. She was dying. She had nothing left to lose. Before she left this world, she would take those two with her. Maybe that was the only reason she was still clinging to life.

The snow reached her knees. Her chest heaved as she coughed, blood filling her mouth. She spat, the red blood which contrasted against the white snow vividly. Despite her state, she moved faster, with only her sheer willpower pushing her forward. The courtyard was empty as the snow had driven everyone inside.

She reached the duke's bedchamber, and luckily, there were no servants guarding it, and she entered with no resistance and inhaled deeply, suppressing a cough, then pushed the door open with finality.

He had never allowed her into his bedchamber in two years of marriage. But now her husband was there, he was sprawled on the bed with Rigella in his arms.

Lily stared at them, then caught her reflection in the dressing mirror across the room. Her hair was matted, her eyes bloodshot, her face pale and sunken. Her lips were black and cracked.

"Khhhhh," she gathered phlegm in her throat as the two in bed stirred. She spat bloody mucus onto the duke's face. He stirred, his eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her in confusion.

Before he could react, she moved to Rigella and spat on her too.

Lily stood at the centre of the room, laughing maniacally, and her laugh turned into wails and then back to laughter. The two others started screaming in horror. The duke rushed to the washroom, trying to wash off the plague as he shouted for guards. Rigella followed him wailing on top of her lungs.

Lily clutched her chest, laughing as her lungs burned. She gasped for breath. Then …. thud. She fell, curling into a fetal position as memories of her life flashed before her eyes.

It was finally time. She had taken her revenge. Now, she could die in peace.

As her vision faded, she heard the chaos and panic of the duke, Rigella, and the guards. She smiled. For the first time in her life, she had fought back and it felt so good.

"May where I'm heading be better than this miserable life," she whispered.

Lilianne Ravenscourt died at the age of twenty-one on the floor of the bedchamber she was never allowed to enter during her three years as Duchess of Velmira.