The Saintess Who Rose Again

Alessa sat in silence, staring at her hands. Though she had vowed to rewrite her fate, the weight of her situation pressed down on her. It wasn't just enough to survive; she needed to outmaneuver her enemies before they struck.

The door creaked open, and a soft voice broke her thoughts.

"Alessa, my darling!" Her mother, Lady Eleanor Elorin, rushed into the room, her gown swishing as she moved. Her golden hair was pinned neatly, but her face betrayed the sleepless nights she must have endured.

"Mother…" Alessa's voice cracked as she saw the woman she had lost in her past life. Eleanor had always been her fiercest defender until the lies of the court poisoned even her loyalty.

Lady Eleanor embraced her tightly. "You scared me. You've been ill for a week. I thought…" Her voice wavered as she pulled back to examine Alessa's face. "Are you feeling well now? Does your head still ache?"

"I'm fine," Alessa assured her, clasping her mother's hands. "Better than I've felt in a long time."

Lady Eleanor looked at her daughter with concern, noting the strange intensity in her gaze. "If you're sure… I'll have the kitchen prepare something light for you."

As her mother rose, Alessa stopped her. "Mother, may I ask something?"

"Of course."

"What would you do… if someone tried to harm me?"

Lady Eleanor's eyes darkened. "Harm you? Who would dare—"

"It's hypothetical," Alessa interrupted, keeping her tone calm. "I was just curious."

Her mother knelt before her, taking her hands again. "Alessa, I would do anything to protect you. You are my heart, my everything. Never doubt that."

Tears stung Alessa's eyes, but she swallowed them. This time, I won't let them take her from me.

"Thank you, Mother," she whispered.

As her mother left, Alessa turned her thoughts inward. In her past life, her downfall had been her naivety—her belief that the divine mark on her shoulder would shield her from harm. Now, she knew better. The court was a battlefield, and she had been unarmed before.

This time, she would play the game and win.

That night, as the household settled into slumber, Alessa remained awake, her mind racing. She needed allies, and she needed power—both spiritual and political. Her celestial mark had granted her immense abilities in her past life, but she had never fully understood how to control them. She had been content to let the palace priests guide her. Now, she knew they had been tools of her enemies.

She would have to discover the truth on her own.

The next morning, she began her first move.