It sounded like a paradox. It felt like a trap.
He did not connect these things to the small, obedient child who refilled his cup and never once looked him in the eye. reincarnated in submission
"I don't need a sword," I said. And I smiled—a smile that belonged to Seris, to the three dead women before her, to the cold weight of the Axis turning in my chest. "I only need to serve." It sounded like a paradox
His eyes narrowed. Suspicion. But also hunger. He had conquered a hundred clans, and every chieftain had begged, fought, or fled. None had simply… knelt. "I don't need a sword," I said
She hesitated. Then she sighed, hoisted me onto her hip, and carried me into the firelight.
Now I was her. Or rather, I was the latest vessel in a broken lineage. Reincarnated not by choice, but by the relentless machinery of a curse disguised as faith.
And for the first time in four lives, Seris's memory hesitated.