Cool air brushed Theia's cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, a soft glow filtering through them. Not the harsh yellow of her bedroom lamp. This light felt gentler, diffused, lavender. Opening her eyes, a gasp caught in her throat. Silken drapes, the color of twilight amethyst, framed towering windows. The four-poster bed was an ornate masterpiece, carved with intricate vines and blossoms, its canopy shimmering with tiny, embedded pearls. Every surface, from the polished wooden floor to the delicate porcelain vases, spoke of luxury. This was not her room. This was not Earth. Soft blankets, heavy with embroidered silver thread, covered her. A scent of lavender and something vaguely floral, like night-blooming jasmine, filled her senses. Disorientation warred with a strange sense of familiarity. She remembered the mirror, the darkness, the pull. A realm. This must be Thaumeya. Footsteps approached, hushed and precise. A soft knock sounded at a door across the room, followed by a gentle creak. A woman entered. Her heart seized. It was Maria. Her own personal maid, the one who navigated her father's household with quiet efficiency, always a ghost in the periphery, serving but rarely acknowledging. Now, Maria looked… different. Younger, perhaps, dressed in a pristine uniform of deep purple, a silver pin depicting a soaring eagle fastened to her bodice. Maria's eyes, wide and kind, met Theia's. A warm smile touched her lips. "Good morning, Your Imperial Majesty. Did you rest well?" Her voice was soft, melodic, nothing like the strained whispers Maria used on Earth. Imperial Majesty. The words felt foreign on Theia’s ears, yet not entirely unwelcome. She sat up, the silk sheets pooling around her waist. "Maria?" Her own voice sounded different too, clearer, stronger. "Is that really you?" Maria chuckled, a light, musical sound. "Of course, Your imperial Majesty. Who else would it be? I've been your Headmaid since you were a child." She moved with grace, crossing the room to a large vanity table. Picking up a silver brush, she began to untangle a long, dark braid of hair, Theia's hair, that rested on the polished surface. Headmaid. Theia swallowed, her mind racing. This was another Maria, or perhaps, the same soul in a parallel role. She needed information, and quickly, without revealing her complete ignorance. Paranoia gnawed at her, a familiar ache. Who could she trust here? Certainly not anyone connected to the 'Imperial Majesty' title that felt like a trap. "Right," Theia managed, trying to sound casual. "Sometimes… dreams can be so vivid, can't they? I feel as though I've woken from a very long one." She watched Maria's reflection in the vanity mirror, searching for any flicker of suspicion. Maria paused, her hands still. "A long one indeed, Your Majesty. You've been quite distant these past few months, lost in your studies and the grief of… of your parents' passing." Her voice softened, a genuine sadness in her eyes. "We all worried about you." Parents' passing. A cold jolt went through Theia. Her mother and father. Dead? Here, in this world? Relief mingled with a strange, hollow ache. No Fadi. No Ambassador. No abusive narcissist. But also, no mother. Her weak-willed, secretive mother, who had been her only solace. Theia gripped the edge of the bedspread, knuckles white. She had wished for her father's demise countless times, but her mother's… that was a different wound. "Yes, of course," Theia murmured, forcing a steady breath. Her mind raced, processing the implications. No parents. That meant she was truly alone. And yet, Empress. An empress with no parents. Who, then, was in charge? "It's still… a blur. This empire. Tell me, Maria, who currently oversees the day-to-day affairs? Who carries the burden while I… recover?" She tried to imbue her voice with a touch of regal weariness, hoping it sounded convincing. Maria turned fully, her expression earnest. "That would be his imperial Grace, Grand Duke and currently Emperor Regent Robert, Your Imperial Majesty. Your uncle has been Regent since the tragic accident, ensuring the stability of the empire during your minority and… your period of mourning. He, along with your cousins, Their Grand ladyships Yona and Ida, and his grace, Heir Orion, manage the various councils." Robert. Yona. Ida. Orion. The names hit Theia like a physical blow. Her father. Her sisters. Her brother. But here, they were her uncle and cousins. The same faces, the same blood, but a different dynamic. Her 'uncle' was in charge. Her 'father' still held power over her, even in this supposed escape. A bitter taste filled her mouth. The universe truly had a cruel sense of humor. "My uncle," Theia repeated slowly, testing the title. "He's… capable, I presume?" She raised an eyebrow, a subtle challenge in her tone that Maria seemed to miss. Maria nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, immensely capable, Your Imperial Majesty! He is a strong ruler, ensuring the borders are secure and trade flourishes. He oversees the treasury, the military, and the Imperial Council's decrees. His word is law, almost as if it were your own." Almost. Theia picked up on the word. It was a chink in the armor. "Almost," she echoed, a faint, predatory smile touching her lips. "So, his word *is* law, but it’s not *mine*? How does that work, exactly? As Empress, surely my decree would supersede his?" Maria hesitated, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Well, Your Imperial Majesty, while you are the rightful Empress, the Guardian of Fates, your Core is still at Level 3. Until a Guardian reaches Core Level 5, the Regent holds significant executive power. He can make decisions for the empire, even if you… disagree. He must, of course, consult with you on major matters, and his actions are always under the pretense of serving the empire until you are fully ascended." Core Level 3. Theia felt a surge of frustration. A physical manifestation of her current powerlessness. Her father, in this guise, still controlled her destiny, still dictated her authority. The familiar sting of neglect, of being told she wasn't enough, resonated deep within her. But this time, it fueled not despair, but a cold, burning resolve. She *would* ascend. She *would* reclaim what was hers. Maria, sensing the shift in Theia's mood, quickly continued, her voice reassuring. "But your Core is strong, Your Majesty. With proper training and the acquisition of the Elemental Stones, you will reach Level 5 quickly. Then, Emperor Valerius will step down completely, and the empire will truly be yours. Until then, he respects your position as superior, as do your cousins. They always refer to you as Your Imperial Majesty, never by your given name, out of utmost deference." Respect. Deference. Empty words, Theia knew. They bowed to the title, not the person. They saw her as a placeholder, a child. She recognized the pattern. Her 'uncle' was merely a puppet master, pulling strings until she was powerful enough to cut them. A familiar game, just with higher stakes. This time, she wouldn't just watch her world burn. She would be the one lighting the match. "The Elemental Stones," Theia mused, her gaze distant. "They are crucial, then?" She needed details, needed a path to power. The maid had given her the key. Level up. Find the stones. Maria nodded. "Indeed. They channel the pure magic of Thaumeya, strengthening a Guardian's Core. There are 10 in total, spread across the realms. Finding them is the highest quest of any Guardian. Your late mother, Empress Selene, had already begun charting your Imperial majesty's path to the fourth stone before… before her untimely departure." Her mother. Empress Selene. Theia's memory of her Earth-mother, frail and defeated, clashed with this image of a powerful Empress, a Guardian of Fates. A strange, poignant ache settled in her chest. Her mother had fought, here. Had been strong. A map to the fourth stone. Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. This was not just about survival; it was about honoring a legacy she never knew she had. "The fourth stone," Theia repeated, her voice firm. "Where is it? And more importantly, where did my mother keep her research?" Her eyes narrowed, focused. Time to stop being the pawn. Time to start playing the game herself. Maria looked surprised by the directness of the question, but quickly recovered. "Your mother kept her most precious secrets, including her research on the White Devil—as the fourth stone is known—in a hidden compartment within her personal jewelry box. It's in her private chambers, which have remained untouched since her passing. Only you, as the heiress, are permitted to enter." White Devil. The name alone promised danger, and power. Theia’s heart quickened. This was her chance. Her true chance. The opportunity to rise above the suffocating oppression of her father, of Valerius, and to forge her own destiny. She would not be a mere Empress-in-waiting. She would be an Empress, fully ascended, with absolute control. Hours later, Theia stood before the ornate, dust-covered jewelry box in her deceased mother's private chambers. Maria had led her there, her face a mask of solemn reverence. The room was preserved, a relic of a life cut short, filled with elegant furniture draped in white sheets. A single ray of moonlight pierced the window, illuminating a small, silver key hidden beneath a velvet cushion. Theia had known where to look, a gut feeling, or perhaps a whisper from her Guardian senses. She inserted the key, twisting it. A soft click echoed in the silent room. A hidden drawer slid open, revealing not jewels, but a rolled parchment. Her mother’s map. Theia's fingers trembled slightly as she unfurled it. Intricate markings, ancient script, and a clear path leading to a distant, shadowed mountain range. The White Devil. It beckoned. Night had fallen fully. The castle was quiet, cloaked in sleep. She had dismissed Maria earlier, instructing her not to disturb her until morning. But Theia wouldn't be there. Not in the morning. Her mind was made up. This was her starting point. Her first step toward absolute control, absolute vengeance. She strode back to her lavender suite, a change of clothes already packed in a sturdy saddlebag. A simple tunic, riding breeches, comfortable leather boots. Practical. She wasn't playing dress-up anymore. Maria reappeared, a worried frown etching lines on her brow. "Your imperial majesty, are you sure?" she asks. Theia doesn't even look as she nods an affirmative. "I believe it's time I claim what rightfully belongs to me" she adds as an explanation as she finishes up. It's midnight, everyone's asleep and she's ready to leave now. She opens the dusty, jewelery box her deceased mother hid the map inside to the fourth stone, the white devil they call it. Why she had yet to know. She clutches the map tightly, gives her maid a last goodbye hug and starts her journey with her black Arabian horse, it was supposedly her best friend since she was 5 and had first started to learn horseriding apparently.

Everyone Knows The Difference Between A Princess And A Queen. But Do They Know The Difference Between A Queen And An Empress?