I stood in a daze, staring at the fire. The blistering heat singed the air I breathed, licking at my skin even from this distance.

  The fire roared hungrily, its golden tongues twisting and leaping into the night sky, turning the darkness into a flickering hellscape of orange and red. Charred wood snapped and crackled, the beams of the manor groaning as they buckled and collapsed, sending a flurry of embers spiraling upward.

  Yells sounded as one of the towers came crashing down, causing the earth to rumble beneath my feet.

  Henry and Remlend stood beside me, gazing at the blazing destruction. Henry swore under his breath, fists clenched as he watched the flames consume everything. In contrast, Remlend's expression remained unchanged and difficult to read.

  Apophis was coiled around my left shoulder so still that I had nearly forgotten he was there. Yet as he looked on, his body tensed, muscles contracting with such force that his grip on my shoulder and upper arm grew painfully tight. His purple eyes stayed fixed on the inferno, gleaming with an emotion I couldn't quite read.

  As for me, memories of the past attempted to push through, barred away by the thick gates of my affliction, Ignorance is Bliss. I couldn't remember the details of the fire that burned every one to a crisp in my first life, but I remembered enough to realize that this fire was on a much grander scale.

  Harley Whitmore.

  She was responsible for turning my home into ash in the prior life. Had she actually been a more potent fire mage now than in a few years' time? Or did she amplify the destructive scale of her fire because there were more people living in the Frey Manor at this time?

  Yet, even with those questions swirling in my head, more discrepancies arose.

  "Get more water over here!" someone shouted to my left, their voice raw with urgency.

  "Ice runestones! We need more ice runestones!" another voice yelled from my right.

  Unlike the grim future I had lived through in the year 782 of the Adovorian calendar—where the Frey Manor was left to burn without intervention from the royal police, The Order, or the firefighters—today, the grounds were swarming with members of each organization, all working frantically to combat the inferno.

  At least three dozen firefighters were scattered around the perimeter, dousing the flames with torrents of water, cooled down with ice runestones. Members of The Order weaved through the chaos, aiding the firefighters and pushing back onlookers from the erratic blaze. The royal police were already questioning witnesses, trying to piece together what had happened.

  "Luca Frey?"

  A woman's voice sounded behind me.

  I turned to find a stern-faced officer standing before me, her dark hair pulled back into a low bun beneath a peaked cap adorned with the royal family crest. Lines of experience etched her mid-forties face, and her gaze was sharp.

  "I'm Debbie Cross," she stated. "I have a few questions for you."

  "What happened?" I asked, my voice more brittle than I intended. "I just got back into Genise."

  I felt a lump form in my throat.

  "Who died?" I asked.

  The stench in the air made it clear—people had perished. People I'd seen just days ago, laughing, talking, living, now lumps of charcoal.

  I swallowed hard. "Is my family safe?"

  The officer's eyes flickered with pity, her stern demeanor softening. She looked away, her gaze lingering on the blackened rubble before she motioned toward a royal police carriage parked nearby. "Please follow me. We should talk somewhere private."

  I closed my eyes and took a deep, shaky breath, the smoke stinging my lungs.

  Damn it.

  "Remlend, find someone from our household who can tell us what happened. Henry, come with me," I ordered, forcing my voice to stay steady. There was no point in letting my emotions muddle my judgment. Not yet. Not until I understood exactly what had occurred.

  I turned and walked toward the carriage, my legs stiff and unsteady. Henry followed, his face pale as he glanced back at the burning ruins. The shouts of firefighters and the crackling of flames filled the night. It was pure chaos and despair.

  Inside the carriage, the noise dulled, replaced by an eerie silence.

  She likely has noise-canceling magic set up.

  I gazed around the dark carriage.

  Debbie sat across from me, her expression grim. She didn't waste any time. "The fire started around five o'clock. It appears the instigator waited until all your family members were home."

  I blinked, feeling the weight of her words hit me.

  "My whole family was home?" I mustered out, unable to voice out the real question that was screaming in my mind.

  Were they still alive?

  Debbie nodded. However, it was in regards to the question I had posed aloud. "Unfortunately, yes. Based on other testimonials, it appears that a magical barrier was put up, preventing anyone from leaving the manor. There were reports of staff members attempting to exit the front gates but seemingly blocked by an invisible barrier."

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  I clenched my jaw, my chest tightening as I stared at the dirty floor of the carriage.

  Was that what happened in my first life? Is that why there hadn't been a single survivor… except me?

  "The barrier was removed," Debbie continued, her voice heavy. "But it took over an hour to dismantle the spell. It was… complicated."

  An hour. An hour of burning alive with no way out.

  I bit my lip and stared down at my fingers.

  In my first life, no one had bothered to take down that barrier. They had let the fire burn itself out, containing the destruction to the Frey Manor.

  Debbie's voice pulled me back. "So far, twenty-two bodies have been recovered. But due to the nature of the fire, the flames haven't been fully extinguished yet. We expect to find more…" She trailed off.

  I cleared my throat. My head felt light, my vision swimming.

  "Were there any survivors?" I forced myself to ask, meeting her gaze head-on.

  Debbie's eyes softened, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled. "No."

  A cold numbness spread through me. I closed my eyes, rubbing my hands over my face, pressing hard against my eyelids as if I could erase the nightmare unfolding before me. But the heat from the fire outside still seeped inside the carriage, prickling my skin, reminding me that this was real.

  Why? Why had my family's death timeline been expedited? Moreover, it wasn't just one person—it was all of them. All in one go.

  I shook the thought away.

  No. I was jumping to conclusions. I didn't ask clearly enough.

  "Are any of my family members still alive?" The question cracked as it left my lips, my hands still covering my face.

  "It's… unlikely."

  I grit my teeth.

  Damn it. Why? Why? Why?! Why!!!

  ~Master, they'll all be alive and well on the next loop.

  Apophis's voice slithered into my mind, his attempt at consolation hollow and meaningless.

  A sneer twisted across my face.

  This damned snake…

  Sure, they'd be alive in the next loop. But in this one, they were dead. In this one, they were still my family. And they died one of the most excruciating deaths imaginable. Burned alive or suffocated by smoke—I didn't know, and I didn't want to know.

  I dragged my hands down my face, feeling the chill of my sweat. I forced myself to look at Debbie, my voice sharper than before. "Who was it? Who did this?"

  The question was half-rhetorical. I was certain Harley Whitmore was involved. But the barrier complicated things. This wasn't the work of a single person.

  "That is what I'd like your help in understanding," she replied.

  She pulled out a thick notepad.

  "I heard you were attacked in the Town of Ascot, and a fire had broke out at the villa," she began, reading off her notes.

  "That fire and this are two separate matters," I interjected, somewhat irritated at the incorrect connection between Leona and what happened to my family.

  "Indeed," she agreed, unfazed by my interruption. "However, there's an odd connection."

  I frowned. "How so?"

  "The Town of Ascot was attacked by undead individuals," she explained.

  I nodded, not seeing the connection myself. "And?"

  "Your grandmother's villa wasn't the only target," Debbie continued, her voice lowering. "Another family was attacked by undead around the same time."

  I straightened, my interest piqued. "Who?"

  "The family of a powerful mage—Ra Sol," she answered, her eyes never leaving my face.

  I frowned. The name meant nothing to me.

  But Apophis's reaction was immediate. His body tightened around my shoulder as his low, mocking hiss echoed in my mind.

  ~That damned bastard. Of course he's involved.

  My confusion only deepened. What history did Apophis have with this Ra Sol?

  "Here's where it gets strange," Debbie continued, oblivious to the snake's reaction. "Your family and Ra Sol's defended themselves against the undead using fire."

  I blinked, the pieces not quite fitting together. "Are you suggesting the one who sent the undead also set fire to the Frey Manor?"

  I was quite certain the undead were the work of someone on the Kobar Empire's side, given the extensive use of the despicable magic in the attack on Adovoria.

  "That's yet to be determined," she said, tapping her pen against the notepad. "But here's the thing—in this day and age, mages are rare. Competent mages even more so. And powerful mages… they can be counted on two hands."

  My eyes widened, the absurd realization setting in.

  "You think… Ra Sol set fire to my home?" I asked in disbelief.

  "What about Harley Whitmore?" I offered.

  Debbie's gaze sharpened, her jaw tightening. "Harley Whitmore is indeed a powerful mage, but there's only one fire mage capable of conjuring an inferno of this scale."

  "Why?" The question came out hollow. My confusion was as deep as the sea now and my thoughts spiraled like a hurricane.

  What motive could he possibly have? Why target my family?

  Debbie's eyes searched mine. "I'm hoping you can shed some light on that."

  * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  Rana sighed, tucking her long, curly hair behind her ears as she gazed out at the endless stretch of forest surrounding the forty-story magic tower where she was confined. Confined by none other than her father.

  Obviously for my protection.

  After the recent attack on the cottage, her father deemed it too unsafe for Rana to remain there. And so, he followed the plot of an old fairy tale he once read to her—of a princess locked away in a tower by her mother. Only this wasn't just any ordinary tower. Magic towers were notoriously indestructible, their walls reinforced by spells crafted by ancient and powerful mages. Even though this one had been abandoned for at least a century, it stood in near-perfect condition, untouched by time or decay.

  The tower wasn't even in Adovoria; it was hidden deep within Laupia, a land stricken by revolution and unrest. Yet, somehow, her father thought it was safer here.

  Rana didn't bother arguing. At least the change in scenery was something. And being in a magic tower—albeit an abandoned one—meant there were likely treasures left behind, hidden in forgotten corners. With forty stories and enough rooms to house at least sixty people, there was plenty to explore.

  Most of the valuable artifacts and books had clearly been looted long ago, but odd pieces of equipment remained, likely because no one knew how to use them.

  But for Rana, those strange instruments were exactly what she needed.

  She opened the book her father still believed to be about agriculture, her fingers trailing over the scribbled notes and pictures on the margins.

  "Alright, I have the small flask, the large flask… funnels, and tubes," she murmured, her golden eyes scanning the scattered equipment on the table.

  She checked her stash of herbs and ingredients she'd convinced one of her caretakers to fetch, claiming she needed them for tea and recipe preparation.

  Well, she hadn't exactly lied. She was following a recipe—just not one meant to be eaten.

  Her fingers brushed over the rough, jagged scar on her arm.

  If I get this right, I should be able to reverse the scar on my arm.

  But she wasn't reckless. This was her first attempt at magic on a cellular level, and she wouldn't risk mutilating herself further. Her gaze flicked to the row of potted flowers on the windowsill. One of the guards had brought them, probably thinking she wanted to decorate her room.

  She smirked.

  They'd never guess I'd be attempting interior decorating on the plants themselves.

  The book's notes recommended practical experiments, but the subjects suggested by the author were living beings. Human, even. Rana couldn't bring herself to test the magic on even a snail, let alone anything larger. So she decided to start small—with a daisy.

  If cellular manipulation magic could alter the structure of a living flower, she'd know she was on the right track.

  Rana took a deep breath, her fingers tingling with anticipation as she reached for the first flask. The sunlight streaming through the window danced across the glass, casting fragmented rainbows across her workspace.

  Even if the cottage isn't attacked by the undead again, I should suggest he lock me up anyway. For my safety, of course.

  Her smirk widened. Yes, for her safety… and her studies.

  Ch 213 on Patreon.