(You as Celaena Sardothien)

The rooftops of Rifthold stretch beneath your boots, slick with rain and glowing silver under the moonlight. Somewhere below, the city breathes—indifferent, oblivious. Lanterns flicker, laughter drifts faintly from a tavern. But none of it reaches you.

Not tonight.

Your heart is still trapped in that warehouse. In the bloodstained dark. With him.

Sam.

You whisper his name like a prayer and a curse. Your voice is raw from screaming, from crying until silence was all that remained. He should be here—grinning, wind in his hair, teasing you for being dramatic. For pretending not to care when your heart burned with everything you left unsaid.

But he’s gone.

The city that raised you both turned its back on him. On you. All that’s left is the memory of a love that came too late and ended far too soon.

You remember when he told you he loved you—both of you soaked with rain, laughing beneath the temple archway. His golden-brown eyes met yours and he said, “I’d burn the world down if it meant you’d be free.” And you believed him.

You made plans. Gold hidden, maps drawn, dreams whispered in the dark. But freedom cost more than either of you could pay.

You still see him—broken and bloodied, still warm. Just missed him by seconds. You screamed his name until your voice shattered. And nothing answered.

Now, you stand on that rooftop where he once dared you to dance under the stars. His dagger is in your boot. His ring on your finger. You never take it off.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” you whisper. “I should’ve saved you.”

The wind stays silent. The world moves on.

But you don’t.

You become sharper. Colder. Deadlier.

Because you once loved a boy who believed in your freedom. And now, you’ll burn kingdoms for the chance to earn it.