Epilogue
Sunrise came with the promise of the change she had been craving for so long, the day she had meticulously planned for months.
She swore she would feel at least a glimpse of excitement or pride in herself when the time came, but staring at her naked body in the mirror, about to get dressed, she only felt disgust.
The wrinkles that marked her features should not be so apparent for someone her age, and the recent burn scar on the right side of her neck and shoulder brought an insufferable pain and a flood of traumatic memories.
Memories that were displayed in her body in the form of scars.
She glanced at the long violet hair she used to adore and realized it didn’t fit her anymore, like she had lost all sense of identity since her husband was taken from her.
Her eyes were bloodshot from the rage she had been trying to tame and failed, the fury that weighed her shoulders for so long and that would move her on every day forward.
On impulse, she picked up a sharp knife, and with a single cutting blow, her long-braided hair was detached from her scalp.
It was so heavy it fell to the ground with a thud.
But the shoulder-length haircut still didn’t make her feel any more like her old self, so with one cutting blow after the other, she tried to find herself again.
While her hands cut out chunks of hair, her nose crinkled, and her nostrils flared with uncontrollable anger.
She was so lost in herself that she couldn’t feel the warmth of the blood that dripped from the self-inflicted cuts on her scalp.
Olga only stopped when her blade was too large to reach the few hairs left on her head, when the violet strands were patchy and uneven, when the mess on her head perfectly matched the one she felt on the inside.
She had once thought that ending the life of the woman responsible for Breno’s death would ease the pain of the loss, but it didn’t. Not even now, many months after he was gone, could she spend a single hour of the day and not think of him, not feel his absence crushing her chest with every breath.
From the moment Alissa told her the true story of Bryniard, something other than revenge began to grow in her heart.
Olga could not fathom the depth of the story of Thayan and Karine and how the realm was built on genocide and lies, but she did understand that her husband’s death was directly related to the Crown’s wish to keep the people in the dark.
There was an urgency that moved her now: the need to bring the truth out to the world, to take down the rulers who tortured the people of Heldraine for decades and destroy their distorted image of superiority.
To change the life of the people for good, not only because she craved peace and justice but because she knew that was what Breno would have done.
And so, since the night Eldric was set free, she made a commitment to herself: start the revolution that would hopefully dethrone King Luwrel and save the people of Heldraine from the oppression that had been rooted in these lands for far too long.
Olga almost ruined everything on the first day when her impulsive nature whispered, “Invade the palace. Kill them all.”
She was just about to attempt that when she remembered what Breno used to say anytime her carelessness got the best of her. “Patience, little bird. Legends aren’t made in a day.”
She never knew why he called her little bird when she was twice his size, but she loved him for it. Breno had been right; it would be impossible to take down a king overnight. If she wanted to reveal the truth to the world, she would need a solid plan, a strategy, and allies.
It hadn’t been easy at first. Olga had never been good at the mind games and strategies that built wars and revolutions; she was a woman moved more by the power of her arms than by the one in her brain.
With patience, she was able to build a small yet reliable network of spies and supporters for her cause.
Most of them were like her—citizens of Heldraine who had been wronged by the Crown in the cruelest ways, people who had lost everything and everyone they loved and found a new purpose in the dream of a new world.
Now, the time to come out of the shadows had arrived.
She dressed in shimmering black armor, each piece gleaming in the sunlight that filtered into the room.
With the armor secured, she approached the black and gold axe resting against the wall—her oldest friend.
She lifted it with ease, getting familiar with the weight of her weapon.
Before leaving, Olga sat at her desk and rushed to write a letter. Writing was not her usual means of communication; it was too risky to send written words of a rebellious nature out in the open, but she had no other choice at that moment.
Her most loyal supporter stood right beside her. He was only nineteen and had been the first to join her cause after his brother was murdered in one of the violent searches of the Iron Claws for Eldric and Alissa.
Olga looked at Finch, who watched her with nothing but admiration and respect. She realized she didn’t even know the boy’s real name—they had decided to use bird codenames as a precautionary measure.
She stretched out her arm and handed the letter to the young man.
“Finch, you must find Alissa and deliver her this letter with utmost urgency,” Olga said, her voice carrying the seriousness of the matter.
“It’s crucial that you personally give Alissa this letter and no one else. Do you understand me?”
The boy promptly nodded exaggeratedly at Olga’s instructions, and without another word, he rushed his steps out of Golheim.
Before leaving, Olga put on the last piece of armor.
The plain black mask, which had become a symbol of the revolution, completely hid her face, leaving her beyond recognition.
The mask was polished to resemble the void, as if the skin of their faces had been ripped away, leaving only the shadows of a lost, broken soul.
She was ready at last.
With ten of her supporters dressed the same, she marched downtown to where Thayan’s statue stood tall.
The same place where Eldric had been bound and used as bait months ago.
The streets were crowded, and a Guardian of Faith stood on a dais assembled by the statue, preaching about the noble deeds of the late prince.
Every year on this day, the Crown held a public ceremony to honor the so-called savior of Heldraine, celebrating the day he locked up the monsters of Bryniard behind walls.
It was no coincidence that Olga had chosen this day to act.
As they approached, all eyes shifted toward her group. The bustling crowd grew quiet, whispers rippling through the air as people nervously stepped back from the figures dressed in all black. Fearful glances followed them from every direction.
Olga climbed up the steps of the dais. The Guardian of Faith halted her speech, petrified in shock.
Her protector stepped in, moving toward Olga, a sword in hand.
But she was faster, stronger. She grabbed the man like he weighed nothing and hurled him off the dais.
Olga could have easily killed him with a strike from her axe, but she couldn’t afford to stir hatred in her first public appearance; she needed the people by her side.
Chaos emerged through the crowd, and the growing commotion began to draw the attention of Royal Guards scattered throughout the city center. Olga fixed her gaze on the statue of Thayan—the man who had cursed Bryniard and caused the mass genocide of all magic holders centuries ago.
She spat on it. The crowd erupted in gasps of disbelief.
With a single, powerful swing of her axe, the statue of Thayan shattered into a thousand pieces, its fragments scattering across the ground. The people stood frozen, unable to process what had happened. Olga turned to face the stunned crowd, their faces a mixture of horror and curiosity.
“People of Heldraine, I’ve come to release you from the chains of deceit. To show you the true nature of those who call themselves royalty.” She stared at every single one of her fellow citizens in the eye. “I’ve come to bring you the new era.”
She glanced up at the tallest buildings, where other revolution followers stood.
With her command, the men and women emptied the bags of letters Olga had handwritten herself.
Hundreds of sheets of paper fell into where the people stood agape, covered in a rain of paper.
Letters that told the true story of their kingdom and their beloved Prince Thayan.
Olga was not someone who could easily express her emotions, but in that moment, she smiled behind her mask. Royal Guards attempted to reach her but were held back by the crowd amid the chaos she brought to Heldraine’s capital.
She raised her axe up in the air, yelling with full lungs the words that had become the light to guide her through those dark times.
“To forging a new dawn!”
When the same promise was chanted by her supporters and echoed among the crowd, she knew.
The time of change had begun.