In the dark room, she sat on the cold floor, leaning against the bed, only her quickened breath broke the silence.

Sweat drenched her forehead. As she fought to open her eyes, she said to herself, "I can't die. I won't fall..."

She saw it—fire devouring everything in its path. She couldn't even deal with it properly, as she was fighting the monsters that invaded her territory. A bitter taste left on her tongue as she admitted,

"I lost."

Her eyes snapped wide open. She gasped, and her chest heaved wildly.

Was it real? Did werewolves destroy her kingdom and everything residing in it—including her?

The fear of losing still clung to her. For a moment, she remained frozen, unsure if she was dead or alive, staring at the floor, one arm resting on her bent knee

She lifted her head to take in her surroundings. The window stood open, and moonlight slipped into the room. It was a small, cramped space with cracked wooden walls from age and neglect.

She had expected to see rough rocks and wilderness. Instead, she was staring at a room filled with spiderwebs and the stench of dust. There was nothing more than a dressing table, a tiny closet in the corner, and the wooden bed she leaned on.

She frowned as something struck her mind. Immediately, she ran her hands over her body—places she remembered being torn open: her chest and stomach.

Her skin felt soft, almost fragile—not the scarred toughness she knew. No wound. No pain. Not even a stain of blood.

Her mangled body had been far beyond healing, and her powers had failed her. Wrinkles formed between her brows as the question crossed her mind: How am I this fine?

Then her eyes landed on her hands. She stared at them, confused expression on her face. They had become slimmer, smoother—as if they had never crawled through blood.

Her nails… they looked pristine, not those black-painted, damaged ones from her dark magic. Nothing about them reflected her lifetime of battles as the queen of witches.

She rose to her feet, feeling her body weight pressing down on her, as if her muscles had stiffened. She used to train every day, pushing her body beyond its limits. She should feel lighter than this.

A cold breeze chilled her skin through the thin fabric of a pitiful white dress. Nothing like her heavy black mantle.

Someone had stripped away her crown and black mantle and dressed her as if her strength had never existed. Did those werewolves do that? Her frown deepened.

She moved closer to the window and gazed outside. Her eyes narrowed as she took in her surroundings. It looked like the early moments before midnight—people bustled left and right.

The dirt street stretched ahead, lined with tall trees. The mansions, no matter how large or luxurious, were made of wood.

No one glanced her way. None reached for weapons as if they sensed a witch queen nearby; however, it was a strange place to her.

She closed her eyes and spread her senses—but nothing stirred beneath her skin. No presence of magic. If witches were nearby, she’d sense it. Humans wouldn’t have let her wake in peace. Werewolves? They wouldn’t have spared her.

Where was she? She readied her magic to figure out where she was—until something crossed the road, making her eyes go wide.

A massive beast—dog-like—casually crossed the road. Its dark fur gleamed under the moonlight, its predatory eyes scanning every step with intent.

The word spat across her mind: Monsters!

Her fingers twitched with the urge to attack, but she restrained herself and slowly stepped back.

She stood in a pack. A werewolf pack. No doubt—in their den.

Werewolves—her blood-sworn enemies. Claws ripped through her kin, howls echoed in her ears. The veins on her forehead bulged as she stopped herself from impulsively lunging at them.

But why did they leave her alive?

Suddenly, a low, deep growl echoed close to her ears, making her skin prickle.

"Witch… what have you done?"

Her shoulders stiffened, and she turned, her hands prepared to summon a spell. There was no one.

She was sure she’d heard a voice. It didn’t seem human—nor beast. Just a voice wrapped in growls.

“Where is she?” the voice added darkly. “I can’t feel her… I can’t reach her.”

Her jaw tightened, eyes narrowing at the empty space. Who was 'she'?

'Invisible spell,' she concluded.

“Who’s there?” she called coldly, warning laced in her tone. Her stance shifted, ready to face an unseen enemy.

“Trying to find me?” the growl rumbled. “You... don’t belong!”

Her lips twitched in restrained fury, the words getting on her nerves deepening her scowl. Whatever it was, the challenge in its tone was palpable. What—did it think it was dealing with?

Immediately, she chanted words to open her third eye, the one that helped her see what couldn’t be seen with normal vision.

Nothing happened.

Her powers always restored quickly—even when drained.

She stared at her trembling hands. She couldn’t feel her magic. Her—whose enchanted spells could summon storms.

Someone sealed her powers.

The seal that strongly required a huge sacrifice, almost a life exchange. She couldn’t even guess who in her clan made an attempt, let alone did it.

She gritted her teeth, refusing to believe it. The emptiness hit hard as if her soul had been ripped.

“My magic... is gone?” she muttered, guarding her panic. “No seal can hold me forever. I’ll break it, no matter what it takes.” And as she thought of the one responsible. "You should’ve left me to rot.”

"You thought taking her life would grant you a new beginning?” the growl returned. “This will be your downfall."