Prologue

Everything was ready. Prince Wilhelm Ostberger was in Grishkuv to celebrate the coronation of Prince Pavel of House Snopek. The capital—that little city of just twenty-seven thousand inhabitants—was full of energy. People were cheering as the golden carriages rolled past on the icy stone streets between snow-covered wood buildings. Wilhelm was the son of Emperor Ludwig XIII and was in the Aisenevian Principality not to show respect to a puppet prince, but to accustom the locals to the presence of foreign aristocrats in their lands; it was now a tradition for the Drakalian Empire. Wilhelm greeted the people with a false smile and hid well his disgust when he received the affectionate gifts of mothers and children.
Prince Pavel's palace was built in Drakalian style: it had pointed roofs, spires and large dragon statues both inside and outside. The banners were red and gold, and on them was drawn a flaming winged sword; the wooden furniture seemed to have reptile legs and even the candelabras were reminiscent of dragons. Drakalian symbolism pervaded both the court and the State's propaganda, but Pavel, like his predecessors, had managed to convince himself that all this only served to demonstrate that he was on the same level as the rulers of the empire.
Elizabeth had been residing in that city for months and every time she witnessed the blind and insane servility of the Aisenevian Principality she couldn't help but feel sorry for them. However, she was convinced that with her gesture she would be able to change something. Walking through the crowd, Elizabeth made her way towards the prince's palace. She didn't have much time. Once they closed the large stone gates it would be impossible to enter and then the mission would fail. The palace was divided into two sections: one was open to the public, the other was not. The second section was, in fact, the throne room and was where the actual ceremony would take place. To reach it, one had to climb three thousand steps; a long and symbolic journey.

Wilhelm was climbing the staircase with Pavel—both protected by guards armed with rifles. Elizabeth's heart was beating fast, time seemed to slow down with every step she took towards them; once she left the ocean of people, everyone would understand her intentions. Her bosses had told her to stay hidden and strike stealthily, but she was aware of the damage she could cause with her attack; remaining stealthy would have involved civilians and she had no intention of committing such a crime.
When she started to climb the steps, the crowd was already behind her and some of them were wondering what she was doing, others were yelling at her to come down. She continued to climb faster and faster; the guards had noticed that the crowd was becoming unusually agitated. She ran towards the princes. The guards turned and saw a blonde girl approaching quickly. They raised their rifles.
"Stay back—!" a guard shouted.
"Sheva!" she exclaimed.
Whirlwinds of fire came out of the girl's hands and burned the men. The two princes were frightened and the crowd dispersed shouting. Pavel, at the sight of that girl with fiery hands, grabbed his sword and pointed it towards her. She didn't want him, but she would've had no problem killing him along with the emperor's son.
"You're dead!" Pavel shouted like a scared beast; he wanted to make her go away by shaking his sword agitatedly. He was desperate. He didn't know what to do.

Wilhelm, on the other hand, already had a plan: he got behind Pavel and kicked him towards Elizabeth. The girl moved away immediately.
"Sheva!" Wilhelm exclaimed.
That second, that small moment of distraction, was enough for him to hit the girl in the stomach with a fiery fist. She tried to fight back, but one of the guards who was still alive shot her with a pistol. The bullet that hit her back was magical and was specifically designed for those that used magic: it not only extinguished her flames, but stunned her.
"Sheva’tun," said the prince, and the flames in his hands went out.
Pavel stood up, confused. He smiled at the prince and sheathed his weapon thinking he had been the victim of an unfortunate accident. Then he looked at the girl who had lost consciousness and asked Wilhelm:
"Who is she?"
"Maybe a traitor. I'll have to take her to the capital to interrogate her, but..." He noticed that most of his men were dead. "It won't be easy at all."
"Then I can take care of it!" Pavel exclaimed like a dog ready to serve.
"Mm?" He turned to the man as if he had just become aware of his existence. "Right... You can. Yes. You take care of that girl. I'll return to the capital and inform my father of what has happened."
"Great! And don't worry!" He put a hand on his shoulder. "My men will make her regret ever going against us!"

 

Elizabeth was tied up and loaded into an army truck; the destination was one of the most terrible places in Aisenev: Komar Katorga. It was a horrendous prison for political enemies, terrorists, rebels and  traitors. The prison was approximately 300 km from Grishkuv and therefore the military police had prepared for a four-hour journey across the tundra, with an intermediate stop in Nerienko, a village of just two thousand inhabitants called 'Purgatory' by the authorities; a name full of black irony.
The girl regained consciousness in the middle of the journey. The truck had recently abandoned Nerienko and would've reached its destination in about an hour. Her arms were tied just like her legs, together with her there were two guards.
"Don't be stupid, brat. You have no way out," one of them said."This is all your fault and you'll never make it out alive from the place we're about to take you."
She looked around nervously. She was already planning a way to escape, but without magic it wouldn't be easy.
"You shouldn't have done that shit. Everyone knows that the Drakalians are unbeatable." He aimed the rifle at her head. "Anyway: don't you think you're a little too young for these things? How old are you?"
"Twe-Twenty-two."
"Twenty-two?!" he repeated in shock. "With a pretty face like that you shouldn't do certain things! Girls today always want to put themselves in danger." He turned to his friend who was smoking a cigarette and asked, "Do you know why?"
"Politics. It's always like that. The modern woman no longer wants to be a mother and wife, they all want to act like men. The world is changing for the worse, if you ask me."

"Yeah, you might be right."

As the two talked, she noticed that the handcuffs had something strange; she looked at them carefully and realized that there were no particular engravings on the metal. She was so scared that she had assumed that they were prepared to transport a prisoner like her; but when she realized that this wasn't the case, she rejoiced. A smile escaped her; it was noticed.
"Why are you smiling? Do you find anything funny in all this?" asked the annoyed man. "Do you think it's fun to end up in Komar Katorga? Forced labor is not for women, believe me. I've seen many come to a bad end..."
"Because of the inmates, above all," added the other with a hint of evil irony. "They all act honest and idealistic when they are free, but inside a katorga they all become what they really are: beasts."
"Yeah, you're right. That's why it's better for them to stay there—"
"Do you believe the Drakalians see you as equals?" she asked out of the blue.
The two opened their eyes wide; no one answered. Neither of them even had any idea what the reason for that strange question was.
"I mean... after all your prince loves living in a palace full of imperial symbols and, as if that wasn't enough, he was happy to send thousands of his subjects to work as slaves in the mines of the Empire. What does this mean in your opinion? Have you ever thought about it? Have you ever thought about your prince? And... what about you?"
"Us?" the man asked confused.
"Yes you. Aisenevian police and army. I look at your guns and I see rifles that still have integral box magazines like those from two hundred years ago and, just like those, your guns have wooden parts. I bet you don't even have the Limiter Revolver."
"Limiter...?"
"The gun they shot me with—"

"Shut up!" The man slapped her. "Don't you dare judge us, bitch! You know nothing about our friends of the Empire!"
"Friends... yeah..." She smiled. "You're pathetic... You pick on me, but you'd never have the guts to be tough with a Drakalian, would you? You know what I'm saying is true. You're not their equals, they see you as servants and nothing more."
"I said shut up—"
"Sheva’el-Avelon!"
Two immense angelic wings made of fire emerged from the girl's back. The men were burned alive by the flames and she took flight, breaking through the roof. The heat loosened her chains and freed her from the handcuffs. She knew she couldn't fly for a long time and so, without thinking about where to go, she moved as far away as possible from the shots and furious screams of the military police.
She flew away. Further and further away. She flew over the tundra at very high speed and the longer she remained in the sky the more she lost altitude. She saw a large lake surrounded by a white forest, there was also smoke. She tried to stand up more to see what it was.
A village!
The longer she remained in the air, the more her magical energy was depleted. No magical energy meant only one thing: losing consciousness again and risking death due to a disastrous fall. She had everything under control—she thought she had everything under control. She wanted just to reach a safe place; just that. She continued to fly and began to descend; she needed time to land, but eventually the fire went out; the magical energy had come to an end.
Elizabeth fell into the water.

The impact caught the attention of a young man who was washing himself in the icy waters. He ran to see what had happened and, when he saw the girl, he immediately rescued her.