Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 101

Chapter 101: The Legend (Special Chapter)

After Seleniah disappeared, the kingdom was never the same.

The once-mighty empire, built on the foundations of magic and power, fell into a state of chaos. The rulers who had once sat on gilded thrones now cowered in fear.

The Mage Tower, once the pinnacle of magical knowledge, lay in ruins, its secrets buried beneath the ashes of its former glory.

And yet, despite the empire’s endless conflicts, despite the change of rulers and shifting alliances, one thing remained unshaken, the legend of the Nether Fire.

It was whispered in the dimly lit corridors of palaces, spoken in hushed tones among scholars, and feared in the darkest corners of the world.

The tale of the goddess of vengeance, Seleniah, and the fire that had been both her curse and her salvation became a warning, a prophecy, and a temptation all at once.

The Nether Fire was more than just a flame, it was a force beyond time itself.

Whoever possessed it would not only wield unimaginable power but would also inherit the memories of their past lives.

The fire did not simply burn, it completed fragmented souls, filling the gaps in existence, and bringing clarity to those who had once wandered lost.

It bridged the distance between who they were, who they had become, and who they were meant to be.

It was said that the fire could reveal glimpses of the future, visions woven from the threads of fate.

A person touched by the Nether Fire would walk the world with eyes that could no longer be deceived, seeing through lies, illusions, and the falsehoods of men.

But power always comes at a cost.

And those who sought the fire… rarely survived it.

In the centuries that followed, many tried to claim the Nether Fire.

Kings and emperors searched for it, believing it would secure their reigns. Mages and scholars hunted it, craving its knowledge.

Warriors and assassins lusted after its strength. Cults formed in its name, worshipping it as a divine gift, while others feared it as a curse.

But the fire did not yield to just anyone.

It did not belong to those who desired it for greed, conquest, or vanity.

It sought something deeper. Something beyond mortal ambition.

The legends spoke of those who had tried and failed. Some were burned alive before they could even touch their embers.

Others lost themselves in the memories of lives they had never lived, their minds shattered by the weight of endless existence.

Some went mad, unable to distinguish reality from vision, doomed to wander in a nightmare of past, present, and future.

But then, there were the chosen ones.

The few who had been deemed worthy.

They were not always rulers, nor were they always warriors. Sometimes, they were simple people, souls seeking answers, longing for something beyond the fleeting grasp of mortality.

They were the ones who had unfinished fates, stories that refused to end, destinies woven so deeply into the fabric of the world that the fire recognized them as its own.

And so, the cycle continued.

The Nether Fire never truly vanished. It waited, hidden in the cracks of time, whispering to those it deemed worthy, drawing them closer.

Some found it by accident. Others spent lifetimes searching. But no matter how they came upon it, one truth remained.

The fire never gives without taking something in return.

One such seeker was a girl named Lysara.

She was born at a time when the empire had long since faded, replaced by warring states and forgotten ruins.

The Mage Tower had become nothing more than a crumbling monument, its history buried beneath centuries of neglect. Yet, the legend of the Nether Fire persisted.

Lysara did not grow up believing in legends.

She was a child of war, raised in the ashes of fallen kingdoms, where survival meant knowing how to wield a blade before learning how to read.

But she had always felt something calling to her.

It started as whispers in her dreams. Fragments of memories that did not belong to her. Faces she had never seen.

Names she had never spoken. A voice, soft, sorrowful, calling her back.

She ignored it for years.

Until the visions became unbearable.

Until she found herself standing before the ruins of an ancient temple, deep within the forsaken lands where no one dared to tread.

The temple had no name. No records of its existence. Only a single brazier stood at its heart, cold and empty, as if waiting for something, or someone.

She did not know why, but she stepped forward.

And then, the fire was reborn.

Black flames erupted from the brazier, swirling around her like shadows given life.

They did not burn her, yet she felt them seeping into her very being, filling the cracks of her soul with something old and familiar.

Memories flooded her mind.

Not just hers.

But theirs.

Seleniah. The goddess of vengeance. The girl who had been betrayed. The woman who had walked through fire and emerged anew.

Lysara gasped, stumbling back, her heart pounding.

She could see it, the past, the future, the truth that had been buried beneath centuries of lies. And then, she understood. The fire had not chosen her by accident.

She had always been meant to find it. Because she was a piece of the past, reborn into the present, carrying the weight of a destiny that refused to be forgotten.

She was not just Lysara. She was Seleniah. And now, she knew the truth. The fire was never meant to be controlled. It was meant to awaken those who had been lost.

She was not the first. And she would not be the last. The legend of the Nether Fire would never die.

It would live on, waiting, watching, searching. For those who were ready to remember.

But as centuries passed, the world changed, and so did its people. Wars were fought, empires crumbled, and new civilizations rose from the ruins of the old.

The stories of gods and vengeful spirits became nothing more than myths told to children, their truths buried beneath layers of time.

The Nether Fire, once feared and sought after, faded into obscurity. No one remembered Seleniah’s name. No one searched for the fire’s power.

The legend, once whispered in fear and awe, was lost, waiting, hidden in the forgotten corners of the world, until the day it would be awakened once more.