Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins

There are two kinds of people you never want to piss off:

Your ex when she still has your bank passwords.

A highborn elven princess with a millennium of pride and a bow kissed by the gods themselves.

Guess which one I pissed off?

Yup.

The wind chilled.

The ground froze.

The air screamed in ancient elvish — you know, the kind of language that makes your ears bleed just from being in the room.

And at the center of it all, wrapped in divine fury and moonlight murder?

Seraphina Loire.

Her violet eyes burned like twin novas. Her hair braided with silver threads lashed in the wind like celestial whips. In her hands? A bow carved from the bones of a divine stag, glowing with righteous vengeance.