Chapter 4: Redemption.

Chapter 4

There was nothing.

No light. No darkness. No ground beneath her feet nor sky above her head. The space around Sigrid existed in a strange and impossible stillness, vast and endless in a way that made even silence feel small within it. It did not resemble death as she had once imagined it. There were no gods waiting with judgment, no rivers dividing the damned from the forgiven, no voices calling her toward peace. Only emptiness and and herself within it.

Sigrid remained still for only a moment before instinct took hold. Her gaze swept across the blank expanse with cold precision, searching for structure, weakness, threat, Anything. Years spent surviving courts more dangerous than battlefields had long ago carved caution into her very bones, and even now, stripped from the world she knew and suspended in a place that should not exist, her mind moved first toward assessment rather than panic.

She attempted to move but nothing happened. Not because her body refused her, but because something else held it in place entirely. It was not chains, nor rope, nor any force she understood, yet she felt the restraint all the same. Her limbs remained suspended in the void as though space itself had closed around her, locking her into stillness without needing to touch her at all.

Her expression hardened slightly.

Interesting.

Most would have panicked and or screamed but Sigrid, she merely tested the invisible restraint again, slower this time, calculating its limits.

And then—

Clap

Clap

Clap

Clap

Clap

Clap

Clap.

Clapping echoed softly through the void.

The sound was almost playful.

Sigrid tensed immediately, every instinct sharpening at once as her gaze shifted toward the direction it came from, though her neck refused to turn fully. The applause continued for several seconds, unhurried and utterly unconcerned, before finally stopping.

A child’s voice followed soon after.

"That is the Crowned Calamity for you. Not even slightly afraid."

The voice carried amusement rather than mockery, light and youthful in a way that clashed strangely against the endless emptiness surrounding them.

Sigrid’s eyes narrowed.

"Reveal yourself."

"Oh?" the voice replied lightly. "Should you really be making demands in your situation?"

The unseriousness of it grated against her immediately.

Silence settled once more before the space before her rippled faintly, like disturbed water, and a figure slowly emerged from within the void itself.

A child.

At least, he appeared to be one.

He floated several feet away from her, dressed in pale robes untouched by wind or gravity, his dark hair falling carelessly over bright golden eyes that held far too much awareness for someone who looked no older than twelve. There was no fear in him, no caution, no hesitation. He regarded her with the relaxed curiosity of someone observing something fascinating rather than dangerous.

Which irritated Sigrid more than it should have.

The child floated closer, then, without warning, he reached forward and tapped her forehead lightly and immediately, the invisible pressure holding her vanished.

Sigrid dropped slightly before steadying herself, her body finally her own once more. The first thing she did was take a slow step back, gaze fixed entirely upon the strange figure before her.

"Who are you?" she asked coldly.

The child blinked and then pouted.

"You are not even going to ask how I am after dragging me into your existential crisis?"

Sigrid stared at him without expression.

The child held the look for several seconds before suddenly grinning.

"Ah. There it is. That terrifying personality everyone keeps talking about."

He floated backward again until he hovered comfortably in the empty space, crossing his legs lazily in the air.

"I am what your world calls a god."

Sigrid’s expression did not change.

"A god?" she repeated flatly.

"Exactly that."

For a moment there was silence.

Then Sigrid laughed, it was brief and entirely humorless.

"Do not insult my intelligence," she said, the amusement vanishing from her face almost immediately. "Gods do not exist. And even if they did, why would one seek me out of all people? I have killed. Lied. Destroyed entire families for the sake of a throne. No god would willingly stand before someone like me."

The child listened quietly before bursting into laughter so sudden and genuine it echoed throughout the void itself.

"Do you truly think I care who you killed?" he asked, wiping his eye dramatically. "You humans are always so dramatic about morality. Most of you would burn kingdoms for people you claim to love and call it devotion afterward."

His grin softened slightly.

"You did what you believed you had to do."

Sigrid’s gaze sharpened.

"And what kind of god forgives so easily?"

"The kind that made you."

The answer came without hesitation.

The child leaned backward slightly, hands behind his head as he stared upward into the endless blankness around them.

"I made this world. Every kingdom. Every war. Every terrible love story you people insist on creating. I made them all." His golden eyes lowered toward her again. "Including you."

Sigrid said nothing.

The child continued more quietly this time.

"But I made a mistake."

Something shifted in his expression then, subtle enough most would have missed it entirely.

"I allowed one of my most faithful followers to die unjustly."

The words struck something violent inside her and before thought could intervene, Sigrid moved.

Her hand closed around his throat instantly, forcing him backward with enough strength to kill an ordinary person outright. Her eyes burned with something raw and furious as she stared directly into him.

"I do not know what you are," she said, her voice trembling not with fear but pain sharpened into rage, "but do not stand there pretending to be merciful. There is no god. There never was."

The child did not resist, did not even flinch. He merely watched her quietly as she tightened her grip.

"Then why did you pray to me every night?"

Sigrid froze.

The void itself seemed to still around them.

The child’s voice softened.

"Why did I hear your prayers before your execution if you never believed I existed?"

Her fingers trembled as memories surfaced uninvited of nights spent alone, blood still staining her hands after war councils.

Silent prayers whispered not because she believed someone listened, but because she had desperately wanted someone to.

The child snapped his fingers and instantly he vanished from her grip, reappearing several feet away, once again floating lazily through the void.

"I understand why you feel betrayed," he admitted quietly. "And I cannot undo what happened to you. But I can offer recompense."

Sigrid stared at him warily.

"How?"

A grin returned to his face.

"I already have."

Understanding flickered faintly across her expression.

"You sent me back."

"Yes."

Her breathing slowed.

"So I truly returned to the past."

"You did."

The child tilted his head slightly.

"To a time before your reign. Before your marriage. Before your execution. Before your enemies realized what you would become."

Silence stretched between them briefly.

Then he smiled wider.

"And I gave you a gift."

Sigrid’s fingers lifted unconsciously toward her left eye.

"The visions."

"Judgment Sight," the child corrected proudly. "It allows you to see the sins hidden within people. Their darkest desires. Their lies. Their guilt. Everything they bury beneath smiles and titles becomes visible to you."

Sigrid’s gaze narrowed slightly.

"And what exactly am I meant to do with that?"

The child grinned.

"Judge them."

The word echoed strangely through the void.

"You may punish them however you wish. Death. Madness. Servitude. Ruin. As long as guilt exists within them, your judgment can reach them."

For the first time since arriving in the void, genuine caution entered Sigrid’s eyes.

"Why would you give something like that to me?"

The child sighed dramatically.

"You really do not trust anyone."

"Why would I?" Sigrid replied sharply. "I was betrayed by my husband. My sister. My kingdom. And now a supposed god appears offering power after doing nothing while I died."

The child chuckled softly.

"That is fair."

His expression softened again, sadness briefly flickering through the playful facade.

"This is my attempt at redemption, Sigrid."

He floated closer once more.

"I cannot interfere with the world directly very often. But I can give you the chance you were denied."

His golden eyes gleamed brightly.

"And besides, I wish to see something."

Sigrid remained silent.

The child smiled slowly. "I wish to see how the Crowned Calamity, the Wolf of Ironvale, the greatest queen to ever rule the realms, will bring the world to its knees when given a second chance."

For the first time since her death Sigrid smiled genuinely.

It was sharp and dangerous and beautiful in the same way drawn blades were beautiful.

"You should have said that from the beginning," she replied softly. "I would have believed you much sooner."

The child laughed brightly.

"There she is."

Sigrid folded her arms slowly.

"If I built kingdoms once before, then I can do it again. Only this time, I know exactly where every weakness lies."

"That is the spirit."

The child pointed at her lazily. "But be careful with Judgment Sight. Overusing it has consequences."

"What kind of consequences?"

"Fainting. Damage to the body." His smile turned slightly sheepish. "Potential death."

Sigrid stared at him for several seconds then laughed dryly. "Now that sounds far more believable. Gifts without consequences are always suspicious."

The child grinned.

"Exactly!"

He rose slightly higher into the void.

"Impress me, Sigrid von Beaufort."

Then he snapped his fingers and the world shattered instantly as the void disappeared. Reality slammed back into place violently.

Sigrid gasped as sensation returned all at once—cold air against her skin, rough fabric cutting into her wrists, pain throbbing faintly at the back of her head.

Her eyes opened.

She was being dragged across stone flooring. Rope bound tightly around both her wrists and ankles as servants struggled to pull her unconscious body toward a waiting carriage outside the manor back gates.

Lilith stood nearby giving hurried instructions, but her panic was no longer fully hidden, leaking through in sharp breaths and a gaze that kept flicking back to Sigrid as though expecting her to wake at any moment.

For one brief moment, the sight before her felt almost familiar, humiliation, restraint, powerlessness, like stepping back into the beginning of her old life all over again, and yet—

Sigrid smiled.

Not because she found any of it amusing.

But because this time she knew exactly how the story ended for everyone involved.