Ascension Of The Villain

"Iyana…"

Her name left his lips in a breathless whisper, barely more than a tremble in the wind.

Vyan stumbled back a step, as if the ground beneath him had suddenly shifted. His legs felt weak. His chest tightened, breath uneven and sharp. His eyes were wide, filled with fear.

Iyana's steps slowed. She saw his facial features twist into hurt, like he was in a lot of pain.

Concern tugged at her brows as she took a small step toward him. "Vee?" she asked softly. "Does it hurt somewhere?"

Her instinct kicked in—the fierce, reckless need to protect him, scold him, hold him. What was he doing out here looking like that? If he was in pain, he should've stayed in bed, wrapped up and safe. If she weren't here, what would he have done? He was so damn careless with himself.

But as she reached for him, that panic in his eyes only deepened, spreading like ink in water.

She drew closer, ready to lecture him, but the panic in his eyes only grew. He wasn't in pain—at least not the kind she had been thinking of.

No, he looked terrified. Of what, she didn't know.

Her hand, the one that still held his silver chain, fell slightly as she tilted her head in confusion.

Did he notice that the clasp of the chain was broken or that there was a dent in the pendant? But it shouldn't be concerning. He could just take it to a good jeweler or fix it himself with magic.

Why did he look so scared—

Just then, the moon, once gentle and silver in the sky, vanished behind a shroud of thick clouds. The surroundings dimmed. Shadows grew colder. And somewhere in the distance, the ancient clock tower struck midnight. Each chime echoed across the imperial grounds like a funeral bell.

Ding.

Her blood went cold.

Dong.

Her feet stopped.

Ding.

Her breath caught.

Dong.

Her heart started to freeze.

All of it hit her together.

Vyan's eyes grew wider in horror as he saw it.

A transmutation circle.

Ink-black, etched in blasphemous geometry, like a curse scrawled onto her soul. It burst open from within her chest, glowing faintly beneath her skin. She didn't seem to see it herself. But he did. Gods, he did.

He didn't know what to do in that moment.

This wasn't just dark magic. It was a curse.

And her glowering crimson eyes were proof of it.

He could feel it now, even through the residual disruption in his own mana circuit. It screamed at him in frequencies only he was capable of hearing. For the first time, the presence that comforted him the most repulsed him, just like the way dark magic used to do.

The product of dark magic—a curse—was now etched into her. He had no clue how that had happened.

The circle around her pulsed like a second heartbeat, one that didn't belong to her.

And then, she swayed.

Her fingers unclenched, the silver chain slipping through them.

Her body trembled once—just once—before she began to collapse.

"Iyana!" Vyan shouted, his voice breaking with panic as he lunged forward.

He didn't think. He didn't care. Even if every fiber of his being was repulsed by her.

His feet flew across the grass, and just as her knees buckled, he caught her. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him.

She fell against his chest, her body limp, her skin chilling by the second.

Vyan sank to the ground with her. He held her tightly in his arms as her body slackened, her eyes fluttering like dying candle flames.

"Iyana…" he breathed again, softer this time, pressing his forehead to hers as if the closeness could anchor her soul in place.

She had gone back into the Grand Hall for his pendant. And in return… something had taken root inside her. Something cruel. Something cursed.

He held her tighter.

As if he could protect her from the very thing blooming inside her chest.

As if love alone could undo a curse.

As if not letting go could somehow rewrite fate.

But it just wasn't that simple.

Iyana could feel it.

That earlier pain—one she had brushed off, silenced with sheer will—came surging back like a tidal wave of ice. It wasn't just pain anymore. It was a curse.

It slithered through her chest, like frostbite winding its way into her bloodstream, crawling under her skin, clutching her heart with icy fingers. Every beat came slower, heavier—until it wouldn't come at all. Until the thing inside her that was strangling her heart, holding it hostage in a tightening grip, would seize its beating completely.

Her vision blurred at the edges. The world spun, tilting cruelly, and for a split second, she couldn't tell up from down.

A deep, numbing ache spread through her, not sharp like a stab, not burning like fire—but worse.

Paralysis.

A terrifying stillness that made her feel like a living corpse. Her body wouldn't respond. Her fingers twitched but didn't move. The sky above her might as well have collapsed. Because everything in her froze.

Even her thoughts slowed. Even her heartbeat forgot what it was supposed to do.

The world grew quieter, until the only sound echoing in her ears was a voice, venomous and sharp, not hers, not Vyan's—

"This is the fate of the one who took my life. If I can't live, neither can you."

Then, like a tide breaching a dam, a wave of memories surged into her mind—memories that didn't belong to her.

They weren't hers or anyone she personally knew.

And yet… she saw them.

She fell into a dreamscape not born of dreams, but stolen time.

She was standing in a sunlit corridor. The scent of lilacs drifted in the air. She felt younger. Smaller. Her limbs weren't her own. She was seeing—living—through the eyes of someone else.

"Jade," a voice said, loving yet laden with expectation. "You are the only princess of the Tensene Empire. You must act like it."

The girl turned toward the voice, and Iyana saw her reflection in the polished marble walls—a teenager of sixteen or seventeen with soft, composed features and weary eyes that masked her fire.

Jade smiled at her mother, lips obedient, voice light. "Of course. I'll never do anything to bring you shame."

But it was a hollow, practiced smile.

Iyana could feel the weight in that expression—the exhaustion of playing a role too long, too well. A life lived on strings.

Then, the scene shifted.

The palace halls were gone. In their place bloomed a quiet garden cloaked in dusk. Moonflowers glowed faintly.

There, someone stood—an ordinary palace guard with calloused hands and eyes that softened when they met hers. For some reason, it reminded Iyana of Vyan.

She felt Jade's chest tighten with the rush of something raw and beautiful. Love. Just like Iyana used to feel for Vyan.

"How was your training, Your Highness?" he asked with a gentle voice, laced with genuine curiosity to know about her day.

"The usual. I sucked at it. Once again, I proved just how talentless I am," she shrugged, smiling.

"Don't say it like that. Everyone has something they are meant for. Swordsmanship or archery just isn't it for you."

"I wonder what it would be—something that even someone like me could be talented in."

"You will find it soon. I'm sure of it."

"Oh, Ravi, you have too much faith in me. I'm feeling pressured now."

Ravi laughed lightly, and Jade felt so warm inside that Iyana could vividly feel it.

This man was her secret.

Her only joy in the gilded cage she called life.

But joy is a fragile thing.

Iyana watched as the air changed. The whispers started. The nobles began to talk. A marriage was to be arranged—to the new Emperor of Haynes. A political move to end the war between the two powerful empires.

Jade's hands shook in her lap as she read the summons. Her lips moved with no sound, but Iyana could feel her heartbreak like a splinter in the soul.

There was no room for protest. There never had been.

A garden meeting was arranged. The air that day was suffocating with late spring chill.

Jade stood in a red gown, ethereal and graceful. Edgar, the new Emperor of Haynes, arrived with a cordial smile, formal and detached. He was courteous. Somewhat nice.

The conversation flowed like cardboard. There was no spark. Just two people of high standing making small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, Your Imperial Majesty, what made you decide to marry me?" Jade voiced out.

"Well, since we are to be wedded, I see no point in hiding it, so I will tell you the truth," Edgar said plainly, "I'm only marrying you because it was the council's condition. As you know, I am already married to Fiona, the daughter of a count. But the noble councils don't agree with it. They wanted me to wed an empress-consort who would bring power and peace into our empire, and they chose you."

His tone was not cruel, merely factual. Jade nodded, a trained empress-in-the-making.

"Also, there will be no need for husband-wife relations between us," Edgar added, waving his hand. "You may live as you please. If there's someone you care for, I won't stop you, either."

He offered her freedom with one hand and oblivion with the other.

"So, do you have someone like that?"

Jade hesitated. But only for a breath.

She trusted his words.

"Yes," she admitted softly.

That confession had cost Jade everything.