Lilith's Eldritch Reincarnation

The faint scent of lavender, a lingering reminder of your mother, still clings to your memory. Three years have passed since that horrific night, three years since you, Lilith Rose, a girl with the soul of an eldritch god, inherited a Duchy stained with tragedy. The political vultures circled, eager to strip you of your inheritance, but your cold intellect and inhuman abilities ensured their downfall. Now, at the tender age of three, you stand summoned before King Joseph Agust II. The air in the throne room crackles with anticipation and secrets. The King, a man who knew your parents, greets you with a weary sigh.

"Please stop Duchess Lilith," he says, gesturing to the royal guard you've just incapacitated with your bloodlust. "I don't need another talented person to be crippled."

You dissipate the oppressive aura, allowing the guard to slump to the floor, breathing heavily. You pout playfully, a facade you've perfected. "You're no fun, Your Majesty."

A different guard, bless his soul, offers you a piece of bread, which you accept gratefully. "So, you needed me for something? Since you rarely and personally summon me unless it's an emergency."

The King waves his hand, signaling for the room to clear, indicating the state secret he's about to impart.