Fantasy

Tonight, Cecilia’s heart was ripped from her chest to break her bond with Arzhen. The Weretiger King’s son, the man she had been bonded to for seven years, had mercilessly taken her life.
    Who could blame him, really? Cecilia was just a fake Saintess, after all.
    When the real love of his life, the true Saintess Ruby Vaiva, emerged to reclaim her legitimate title, it was all over for Cecilia.
    Cast away by the very people she had saved through sheer will and intellect, all in favor of a divine cheat, she knew no one was coming to save her.
    But as her eyes grew heavy and the world began to fade, a notification suddenly popped into her mind.
    DING!
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    [Yes/No]
    Ah. So there was a man dying nearby, too… Wait... Oathran Alicei? The Dragon Lord?!
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    [Yes/No]
    Alright, alright! Roll!
    ***
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    ***
    The Dragon Lord she swore to kill:
    “It wasn’t a prophecy, it was an oath. Your oath. To me.” He wanted to die by her hands. He must. “It was about dying at the hands of the one person I respected. The one person who promised to take the burden from me. You.”
    “And if I say you are a saintess, then you are.”
    ***
    The Alpha Werewolf, her uncle-in-law:
    “You think there’s a measurement for sin?”
    “If we are going to get you with child, it will be done properly. Ideally, in front of that precious nephew of mine. Let him have a front-row seat to his legacy being… superseded.”
    “God forbid a man finds creative motivation.”
    ***
    The Werelion Pride King who 'hated' her:
    “So what if it’s wrong? Be wrong, and live.”
    “Let me tell you one thing, Cecilia. If you die, even if it was the right thing to be… it’s still wrong.”
    “If you die, the world will be wrong.”
    “And a wrong world must perish.”