Fate's Command: Bound by Blackmail

The High Priest’s jaw tightened, a barely perceptible tic betraying his frustration. His gaze was fixed on a point somewhere beyond the walls — another failure. The thought hung heavy in the air as the body of Dianna Lyria lay still on the altar, cold and lifeless.

“Another pure and promising vessel lost,” he said, his voice tight with suppressed rage. “Prepare her for burial. See to it that the Lyria family is properly... consoled.”

He gestured dismissively to his underlings, eager to be rid of the evidence of his failure.

And to think I actually believed I could revive the lost magic through her... a pity.

The underlings, their faces a mixture of fear and relief, began to move the body, their movements clumsy and disrespectful.

The High Priest, his hopes seemingly dashed, swept out of the room, his robes billowing behind him.

The room was silent, save for the shuffling of the underlings as they prepared the body for its final rites. They muttered amongst themselves, their voices echoing in the stillness.

“Another one joins the departed.”

“I heard the Count is offering a hefty reward for anyone who can point out the one who poisoned her drink.”

Then, it happened.

Dianna’s eyes snapped open.

A jolt of pure, raw power surged through her veins, a sensation both exhilarating and terrifying. It felt like every cell in her body was humming with energy, a symphony of power she had never imagined.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes glowed with an ethereal blue light, mirroring the sudden luminescence of her hair.

The underlings froze, their blood turning to ice in their veins, their hands trembling as they stared in disbelief.

The air crackled with energy.

The body on the altar began to levitate, rising slowly towards the vaulted ceiling.

A strange sensation washed over her, as if something inside her was shifting and changing, beyond her control.

Her hair, once a rich rose gold, shifted, darkening into a cascade of raven black, shimmering with an otherworldly sheen. Her eyes, once warm and hazel, turned icy blue, sparkling with an ancient, untamed power.

Slowly, gracefully, she descended, her bare feet touching the cold stone floor, her senses coming back.

Okay, limbs functioning. That’s... impossible. How am I walking already?

A wave of relief washed over her, so intense it almost brought her to her knees.

But where in the world was she?

This place bore no resemblance to the sterile recovery room from the hospital in her last memories. And the faces surrounding her... none of them looked like doctors or nurses.

Her gaze, sharp and assessing, swept across the room, taking in every detail, processing the whole situation.

She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers and feeling the surge of something electric thrumming beneath her skin, triggering a powerful creative surge that let her visualize the nature of her power.

How is this... possible?

A nervous laugh bubbled up in her throat.

“So, I had survived that wreck and somehow gained superpowers? Just like in movies? I must be dreaming, then.”

The underlings, their terror mounting, exchanged frantic glances. Their whispered words, laced with fear, reached Dianna’s ears.

“It... it can’t be!”

“But the ritual was a failure, wasn’t it?”

“We have to inform him immediately! About Lady Lyria!”

Their voices, loud and chaotic, rang in her ears, a cacophony of fear and disbelief that barely registered within her.

“What ritual? And who’s Lady Lyria?” she muttered, a flicker of confusion crossing her mind. She shrugged almost imperceptibly, her expression remaining largely unchanged.

The information felt irrelevant to her immediate concerns.

Okay, focus. These guys are definitely not on the level. I mean, who wears robes nowadays like they’re in a cult?

One of the underlings, forcing aside his fear and replacing it with a nervous admiration, cautiously approached. His hands trembled slightly, but he managed a shaky smile.

“My lady. This is truly a miracle. How are you feeling?”

Another woman among the crowd, her voice trembling with awe, exclaimed,

“A miracle indeed! Your parents, Count Eamon and Countess Isolde, will be overjoyed by this!”

The woman clutched her hands to her chest, her eyes wide with wonder.

Dianna’s brow furrowed.

“My...parents? Count and Countess?”

I get it now. They’ve mistaken me for someone else.

“Are you sure you... have the right person?”

She pointed a finger at herself.

Just then, the High Priest rushed back into the room, his eyes wide with amazement, a beatific smile spreading across his face.

“My efforts! Years of studying revival magic, and here you are, finally, a living testament to my dedication! Although you look a little different.”

He clasped his hands together, his voice filled with a manufactured sense of wonder.

“Nevertheless, welcome back to life, Lady Dianna Lyria! The world is so lucky to have you.”

Dianna blinked, utterly bewildered.

A priest?

“Okay, this is officially off the rails. I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” Dianna’s voice instinctively rose with a touch of panic. “My name is Dianna Elaris, not Lyria.”

She balled her fists, her eyes narrowing with growing suspicions.

The High Priest, his expression carefully composed, stepped closer. He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with what seemed like concern.

“Lady Dianna,” he said, his voice gentle and soothing, “you must be disoriented. Revival can be taxing.”

His gaze lingered on her. Then he exhaled.

“You collapsed at last night’s party – poisoned, a regrettable incident. The Count and Countess were understandably distraught. Knowing of my research, they requested my assistance.”

His voice laced with what sounded like sorrow.

“How could I refuse? Preserving your life was the least I could do. So I brought you here to my Cathedra of Restoration.”

Dianna stared at him, her mind racing, her instincts screaming that something was terribly wrong.

The High Priest gestured forward and continued.

“I had to use one of the church’s precious relics to maintain your body perfectly as we travelled here, since it takes hours to get from the Eldia region to the Stalwart Territory.”

“Look, I think there’s been a slight misunderstanding,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “I don’t know who you people are, or what this is all about, but I’m not staying.”

Dianna glanced at her hands, a spark of determination igniting within her.

Okay, reality check: magic is real. And if these guys are gonna be difficult, I’m gonna have to bust my way out of here.

As she tried to gather her powers in her palm, she accidentally unleashed a strong lightning bolt that hit a column.

The High Priest’s eyes widened, his carefully constructed facade crumbling.

“Hurry! We have to contain her!” he shrieked, pointing at Dianna. “Before she becomes too powerful! Mana-generated cell, now!”

“Wait! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Panic flared within her.

The underlings, their faces contorted with fear, lunged at her, brandishing crude weapons and chanting incantations to activate the mana cell.

She didn’t want to hurt them, but they were trying to imprison her.

Reacting on pure instinct, her body unleashed her stormweaving magic.

The air crackled, and a terrifying realization slammed into her – this power wasn’t hers to control.

A blinding vortex of wind, lightning, and rain erupted from her, far more powerful than she intended, tearing through the room with unstoppable force.

She screamed, a sound swallowed by the storm, a desperate plea for it to stop.

The underlings didn’t stand a chance. They were vaporized in an instant, their bodies disintegrating into ash before her very eyes.

The High Priest, caught in the blast, screamed in agony before he, too, was consumed by the storm, his features contorted in a mask of unimaginable pain.

When the light subsided, the room was a scene of utter devastation.

The air was thick with the acrid stench of ozone and burnt flesh, a smell that would forever haunt her nightmares.

Only dust and rubble remained where the High Priest and his underlings had stood.

No one else was spared.

Dianna stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Her mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the enormity of what she had done.

A wave of nausea washed over her, and she stumbled backward, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle a sob.

Oh God, what have I done?