The Villainess Wants To Retire Chapter 15: Burn the stage

He gave a low chuckle, but it lacked humor. "That is... absurdly morbid, even for you."

"Answer it."

For once, he didn’t deflect. He grew quiet, thoughtful.

"I suppose," he said at last, "I would abandon the role. Step off the stage entirely. If I know where the path leads, why walk it again? Perhaps I would seek a quieter life. A freer one." His voice dropped, colder, certain. "Or perhaps I would stay on the path, but bend it to my will. Manipulate the play, forge a new ending. Either way, I would play by my own rules."

He paused, then added almost wryly, "There’s an old scholar—Valeren of Thalos. He once said, ’If you cannot burn the script, then set fire to the stage.’ I’ve always thought it was the only advice worth listening to."

The words slipped Into like a blade, sharp and clean.

I felt it then, the clarity I’d been groping for in the dark. If I was tired of this endless ga, then why stay? Why bleed myself dry for a throne that was never mine to begin with?

Perhaps I didn’t need to win. Perhaps all I needed was to leave.

To live for myself, not for Caelen’s hatred. Not for the court’s fear. Not for the story they had written for .

"A dramatic answer for soone who called the question absurd."

His lips twitched, but his eyes never left mine.

And beneath the quiet weight of his gaze, I realized: he had given the first truth I could finally use.

I sat there longer than I intended, the wine cooling against my tongue, the moonlight painting everything in silver fla. His words still pressed against , dangerous in their simplicity. Abandon the role. Burn the stage.

Could it be that simple? To walk away? To shed the crown and chains in one breath?

My fingers curled against my knee. The thought both thrilled and terrified . If this world was written, then stepping off the page was the one rebellion left to . My rebellion.

For the first ti in... gods, perhaps my entire life, I felt sothing close to calm. Not the false stillness before I struck, not the seething silence of rage held back—but calm.

And that calm was mine.

I turned slightly, catching him in the corner of my gaze. Soren was still watching , sharp and unflinching, as though he’d peel back my skin and bones just to see what made burn.

I rose smoothly, the fabric of my garnt whispering against the stone. He shifted forward, like he wasn’t quite ready to let slip away.

"You’re leaving?" he asked, his voice low, threaded with sothing I couldn’t na.

I let a slow, cruel smile touch my lips. "You said it yourself, Emperor. Even gods grow weary. It seems I’ve had enough philosophy for one night."

"Then indulge a little longer." He leaned back, but his eyes burned coldly against . "I rarely find conversations worth keeping."

I tilted my head, amused at his persistence. "And yet here I thought ice was patient."

"Not with fire," he said simply. And then,

"You seem like soone planning sothing drastic." He continued.

The words lingered, heavier than it had any right to be.

I let the silence drag, then stepped past him. "If you think I’ll do sothing drastic soon..." I glanced over my shoulder, smirk widening into mischief, "...then you should look forward to it."

I didn’t wait for his reply. The garden stretched before , shadows parting around my steps as though the world itself made way.

But just as the night began to swallow , his voice followed, smooth and deliberate.

"I will, Queen of Solmire. And I suspect I won’t have to wait long."

A shiver ran down my spine—not of fear, but of sothing far more dangerous.

...

As the night deepened in Solmire, I did not sleep.

The hours fled like thieves while I sat hunched over maps, ink staining my fingers black, quills splintering under my grip. Parchnts spread across my table like conquered cities, but tonight I was not plotting battles. I was plotting freedom.

Where would I go? The countryside of southern Solmire, where the soil was dark and fertile? Or the jagged cliffs to the west, where no soul lingered but gulls and storms? Or further still, across the border, past Nevareth, into lands no scholar had yet charted?

Would I go as myself, Eris Igniva, Queen of Fire, loathed, feared, despised? Or would I wrap myself in so other skin, live quietly, naless and unremarkable? I ticked off possibilities with brisk strokes of ink, my mind ablaze with plans.

And what then, when I arrived? Would I spend my days hunting beasts, taming wild land, building a ring of fire to keep my solitude untouched? Or perhaps... I smiled at the thought ...open a library in so godsforsaken village, drown myself in books instead of blood.

Absurd. Ridiculous. Exhilarating.

The candlelight guttered low, and I realized dawn had crept in, painting my table in pale gold. I was still smiling. That startled more than anything.

The door creaked open. Mira slipped in, her eyes widening at the battlefield of maps and scrolls that surrounded .

"Your Majesty... you are awake still?"

I snapped my head toward her, irritation flashing like a whip. "Why are you bothering ?"

She bowed hastily. "Forgive . Today is the Pyrosanct Council eting... The court gathers even now. They await your presence."

I leaned back in my chair, the cruelest smile tugging at my lips. "Then they can go on without . They’re free to gnaw at each other like dogs. Tell them to make their decisions and bring them to . I will approve or burn them at my leisure."

Mira’s mouth parted, but no words ca. For once, I had silenced her utterly. The horror in her eyes was almost amusing. She bowed so deeply I thought her neck might snap and fled before I changed my mind.

I returned to my maps, the quiet once again mine. The idea of slipping away into obscurity, of abandoning the throne that had chained , grew sweeter with each breath.

The Solmire sun had begun to shine brightly soon enough.

I was tracing a line along the northern passes when another knock sounded. Sharper. Heavier. The kind of knock I knew too well.

"Enter," I said flatly.

The door swung wide, and there he stood.

Caelen.

The man who had been my husband, my executioner, my obsession, my ruin.