The tides of Fate would leave me with nothing.

Instead, I choose to grasp for it all.

At any cost.

       -The Wicked Witch Lucillia, then known as the outcast Du Valeross, as she made her first pact with a demon

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In the grand cathedral of the Regnan kingdom’s capital, a wedding ceremony was underway. Magical lights filled the glass-covered ceiling, splintering off the crystals held there, resulting in a prism of colours on the floor, which illuminated the breathtaking wedding pair.

I sneered at the tediousness of it all.

Two years ago, I too had been excited at the prospect, when a ceremony here had been promised to me. Now I knew better.

The magical lights were an ancient relic—one the kingdom had no remaining knowledge of. Every year the priests hoped they would last another, but only half of the originals remained. One of the few relics of might remaining here. That they clung to this with such despair and fervour—it only proved the decay of the kingdom.

Another addition to the list. Once it was all mine, there would be many things to fix. Every day I found more.

As the ceremony progressed to the next stage, I focused back on the wedding pair. It was a wedding of elites, between the heir to the dukedom of Rosseau, and the last lady of the Du Mons bloodline. Such wastes of potential, both.

I considered the lady first. Dressed in a grand white dress that trailed behind her, with flowing white locks of hair and brilliant blue eyes, one of the darlings of the nation. She was the last of the bloodline, an inheritor of great magics and influence, but of late she had been squandering it all—focusing on petty politics and idle delights, leaving her servants to manage everything. A disaster it had been, until my intervention.

Then I turned to observe the man, who was smiling like a fool. No dignity. He would be one of the power players of the kingdom, ruler of vast lands and commander of powerful armies. Recently, he had been embroiled in a scandal of gambling debts and rumoured infidelity. Hardly my first candidate for the plan, but there were few options. His resources were most important—the rest could be fixed. In time.

He winked at the bride, then turned back to the priest, who was still droning on and on about the vows.

I suppressed my grimace. Was he really acting like that, here? All the eyes were on him. Even I couldn’t be careless, hidden as I was amongst it all. I could not risk things. My plan was so close to completion. I clenched my fist. If only this damned priest would hurry up…

Finally, the priest got to the important bits. I relaxed my fist. Soon. It would all fall into place.

“Do you Lord Rosseau, take unto thyself as wife fair Lady Du Mons and pledge unto her before the goddess and these witnesses to honour and sustain her, in sickness and in health, in fair and in foul, with all thy worldly powers, to cherish and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

He winked at the bride, a boyish smile on his face. “Yes.”

The priest turned to the bride.

“Do you Fair Lady Du Mons take unto thyself the Noble Lord Rosseau to be thy rightful Lord Husband and pledge unto him before the Goddess and these witnesses to honour and cherish him, in sickness and in health, in fair and in foul, be his one true and lasting counsellor and solace, and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live.”

The bride nodded. “Yes.”

I was nodding too. Things were proceeding well.

The priest turned to the audience, a vast gallery of the highest born of the kingdom, everyone except the Royal family in attendance.

“If anyone has just cause to object to this match, speak them now, or else be hereafter forever silent!”

Nobody ever actually spoke during this bit, it was just a touch of ceremony. But as always, the fates would not smile on me.

“I object!” A clear voice, instantly familiar and dreadful to me rang out, and a halo of angelic light lit up among the audience as a figure jumped on top of a table and threw her hood back.

There were gasps of shock, first scandalized, then in awe, then a cheering roar rose, a hundred mouths shouting at once.

“The Great Saint of the Kingdom!”

I was frozen solid from shock, slowly turning towards the figure who was standing above the crowd. She had been hidden under a cloak, but there would be no mistaking those glowing blue eyes or brilliant gold hair. Or that beautiful face, stoic as always. Once a friend.

Lord Rosseau was frozen solid from shock. Slowly, he thawed up enough to walk up the stage, hesitantly approaching the Saint. “Miss, what is this all about? Have I done something wrong?”

The Saint shook her head, watching the stage carefully. “It was no error of yours, but a lie was just spoken on this sacred stage.” She turned towards the bride.

“You do not truly wish for this!” She said, pointing her sword as magic crackled..

At me.

And with that dagger of truth, my glamour spell broke, and the Lady du Mons shattered like a cracked mirror. Revealing me. I clapped slowly, as my form was gradually revealed, like that mirror slowly mending back, into a different shape.

My black hair and black dress spread out, exerting an oppressive gloom over the stage. My eyes shone red with magic, lighting the stage like a blood moon. I glared at the Saint, and our eyes met, red against blue.

The audience had frozen in horror, along with the husband-to-be. Typical reactions. They had once adored me, then scorned me. The cruel twists of fate. This current reaction though… it was something I had earned. That at least made me feel a bit better.

“Congratulations Cecilia,” I said, keeping up my slow clap. “—you have foiled my plans again. What tipped you off this time? I was sure to be careful with fate. The Lady Du Mons was to be married, and I made sure it would be so.”

She kept her gaze steady, not breaking eye contact. “Where is the real Lady Du Mons?”

I stopped clapping, raising an eyebrow at her. “She is quite alright, I assure you. Enjoying her stay in her own coal mines. Thought it would build character a bit.” I shook my finger at her. “Now, I told you that, I’ve earned some answers at least, right?”

I pointed at Lord Rousseau “Was it really just because I was so upset with settling for this fool? You really haven’t left me many options you know—this sad sack of pride was one of my very last options.”

The husband-to-be flinched back as if I had struck him. That was because I had. A minor curse along with the words, making them literally biting. Small recompense for having to stand him the past few weeks.

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I saw a few of the previous options back in the audience. A tall blond figure, the gloomy black haired hunter, the rest sort of blended in together. Even they were now watching me with fear. It hurt me–just a bit. I had even liked a few of them a bit. And then there, at the beginning, there had been the crown prince… I felt a pang in my heart, and focused back on Cecilia, the Saint.

“I wouldn’t have even treated him that bad, you know. I’m sure he would have enjoyed the illusory realm I had planned—a bit of an extended vacation.”

Cecilia had relaxed a bit. Maybe because the real Lady Du Mons was safe. “You failed to account for your own fate, Lucillia. You know it well.” She said softly, genuine sympathy in her voice.

I hated that the most.

Then she focused her voice again, tough as iron. Blue and white rays of magic began gathering at her sword’s tip. “Now, step down gently. You have to pay for your crimes.”

I sneered at her, a red glow enveloping me as I started gathering mana of my own around me. “Even with this, it was not enough to resist fate? Go quietly? No—I don’t think I will. Let me pass, or I will really make a scene. One big enough to rip the very fate of this kingdom from its rotten course! You know I will. You’ve forced me into this.”

And she knew I wasn’t bluffing—there were no lies with her. Her voice shook a bit. “No one forced you to do any of this.” She said, more to herself than me.

At that, I finally laughed, long and hard. I practiced that for just these moments. Cecilia flinched back, struck more surely than a sword ever could.

She shivered, shame on her face.

I stopped laughing for just a moment, then lowered my voice to a whisper, lacing it with all the scorn and fury I carried. “Nobody forced me into this? So, I was just supposed to waste away like a rat, like that precious fate of yours prophesied?” I knew she heard my silent words. Even when the others had scorned me, she had always listened.

I focused the mana in my hands and began opening a portal. Now I spoke like thunder, and my voice boomed. “I think not.”

The Saint started running at me, shouting as a golden glow grew around her snow-white sword. “She’s going to summon a demon! Get out of the way or stop her!”

Yes, that was indeed exactly what I was doing.

Have a problem, a situation that is difficult to get out of? Solution: throw a demon into the mix. It has usually worked for me.

I slammed my hands together, and the cathedral shook as cracks in reality formed above me, shattering the ancient crystal lights into pieces. “Amon D’oth Arath, by our pact, I bid thee to—”

The Saint reached me and slashed her sword of light up at the portal. The blast hit, and the cracks started spinning as if sucked into a whirlpool of light. I twisted my hands, shifting the mana around, and the whirlpool itself opened, revealing a dark abyss behind it. Something started emerging.

“No! Lucillia! Stop this!” The saint shouted, pointing her sword at my chest.

I laughed at it—a sword had never fit her. That Goddess had chosen the wrong Saint. “Cecilia, you will not kill me. We both know that.”

At that, she grimaced, then threw her sword up at the emerging demon like a spear, and it slammed forward like a lance of Fate, holding the dark at bay.. Then she activated her Blessings, shone bright with light, and jumped at me.

She was stronger and taller, even before, but I had too my magic. Red mana rushed through my veins. and my skin was tinged red. My muscles bulged out, and I felt it emerge. My Inner Demon.

It strengthened me, and I pushed back at the saint, and we fell to the ground, struggling against each other. We spun around on the ground, trying to get a grip on each other. Everybody else was running away.

I was still laughing—I had never really stopped.

Her Blessing won out, and she pried my arm away, finally getting on top of me. I felt my wrists get pinned under her smooth and cold hands, held in an iron grip. I struggled, but she held firm, getting control of my legs too. But it didn’t matter.

“You too late!” I shouted, smiling despite everything. “The portal is already open—you can’t interrupt it anymore! I’ve won! Let me go and you can stop the demon!”

“Not this time Lucillia, something has to change,” she said softly, then her forehead started glowing, a small horn of light emerging. I froze, surprised, this was not the plan.

And then she headbutted me. The horn of light split my ritual apart.

I panicked, my mind roiling from the impact and magic. “No! You can’t interrupt it halfway! That will—”

She went limp, all the energy gone out of her, and her head fell on mine, no more glow to it. “I trust in fate’s hand, just let this all end, please…” she said, slowly losing consciousness.

I watched with dread as the portal above us twisted, the demon ripped apart. Light and Dark fought, but Light always won. The demon exploded, then suddenly the portal opened wider. 

And of all things—a carriage appeared from it, right above us.

“What the fuck Cecilia?!” I shouted as it started falling from thirty feet up.

I struggled, trying to get the Saint off me. She fell to my side and her eyes widened. I tried to roll out, but it was too late. I summoned all the magic I could to strengthen my body, and felt Cecilia surround us with her remaining power, but then the carriage found us.

And we went splat.

—

And then I woke up.

I breathed in. Hot air, wet air. Tropical. The light that came into my hospital bed was bright with the morning sun, but it was not that which I flinched from. New memories were roiling around in my mind.

My mind roiled, trying to process it all. And I realized as I looked at my arms—I was not me. I had become someone else. Someone called… Isabel Moreno?

The room was strange, everything was strange. Alien surfaces and screens, made from strange materials. Flashing lights, tubes full of liquid, and metallic beeps. The scene gradually resolved from alien to familiar as the memories flitted in, and I recognized things. I started to understand. This world, this… Earth.

So very different. So very similar.

I staggered out of the bed, and saw that I had bandages on my arms. My newest memory… a car crash? A car? I found the window, and looked at my visage in it.

Long black hair, a somewhat skeletal face, and eyes that were a rich brown.

There was no mana in the air.

For just a moment, I felt empty. It was all gone, my ambitions, goals, everything I had spent the last two years working towards. And even her…

Then the door opened, and a maid walked in. Glasses and clean black hair, and a nervous, worried face. “Mistress, are you awake?”

Seeing her face, more memories came. Names, faces–family. I breathed deep. This new me… It hasn’t lost everything yet. I smiled.

“I’m fine, Francesca. I just woke up, and I’m feeling great.”

I hopped out the bed, and flinched at the pain in my arms. Maybe I could…?

There was no mana in the air. So… I searched inside, finding my Inner Demon. What was inside my soul remained. I channeled it for just a moment, and felt my eyes flash red. Excellent. I had resources.

Because I had much to do. Much to protect.

I looked at the maid, Francesca, and saw the care on her face. A world where I hadn’t lost everything yet. 

A world where I could gain everything.

Turning, I looked outside the window, recognizing the city outside. It was in a natural valley of sorts, the only real city on the island. In the country. A place so similar, and yet, so different.

“Don’t worry Francesca, I can hardly stay bedridden, now can I?”

I looked up, at the top of the mountain, and saw the presidential palace. Some called it tyrant’s rest. I liked the style. Stark black stone, built into oppressive monoliths which stood above the city, as if weighing it down.

I wanted it.

A king—A dictator.

A kingdom—A country.

Nobility—The ultra-rich upper class

A Royal Academy—the elite university.

A place in need of fixing.

What really was the difference? I decided then and there that I wanted it all.

“After all, there is so much to do…”

“But what about your injury, miss? The car crash was so terrible?”

I smiled, channeled just a hint of mana through my veins, and my eyes flashed violet. I stretched out my hands, feeling the muscles bulge out from the demonic magic. I let the glow fade, turned, then winked at her “Don’t worry, I’m actually feeling great, I must’ve gotten off light. Good thing, after all—”

I turned my head back, looking through the window, and I saw the university. A small building, tucked under the presidential palace. The networking spot for the country’s elites.

“—The semester starts next week,” I finished, letting my gaze linger.

I had just remembered the most interesting detail. The dictator’s son had finally returned from abroad. 

Then I remembered what that son had done as his first action. I looked to the side, and saw that tall black skyscraper, 5 years of work, construction interrupted on a whim. It stood like both the huge nail and the coffin, filling me with dread.

Fuck.

My family was in serious debt.