Olivia remained frozen, but her mind was anything but still; it was devouring itself. It wasn’t Matthias’s departure that terrified her—it was the "doubt" that had taken root in her chest like a poisonous weed. Why leave now? Was he running from sothing, or was he running from her?
"He took off his ring?" she whispered, the words jagged like shattered glass.
Her mind spiraled back, tearing through the veils of ti. In her past life—amidst the betrayals, the wars, and the ultimate fall of their house—that ring had never left his finger.
She rembered the cold touch of the tal against her skin during their final goodbye; she rembered its glint as he walked toward the executioner’s platform with a dignity that broke her heart. Even at death’s threshold, he had clung to that symbol as if it were his only anchor to humanity.
So why now? she scread internally. Why, in this life, did he choose to cast it aside?
Leon stepped out of her room, but his legs refused to carry him further. He ca to a halt in the center of the vast courtyard, where the wind didn’t just blow—it hissed, carrying a strange, unnatural chill that clung to his skin. Closing his eyes, he was violently pulled back to that cursed mont with his brother just before he left.
He rembered Matthias’s hand—it had been trembling, a micro-tremor that spoke of a battle fought beneath the skin. Then, he wrenched the ring off.
"It has been a long ti since my hand felt this naked," Matthias had murmured, staring at his own palm as if it were a foreign object, a piece of flesh belonging to a stranger.
In that heartbeat, Leon witnessed a horror that words could barely touch. The second the tal lost contact with the skin, the light in Matthias’s eyes didn’t just fade—it extinguished.
A bottomless, abyssal blackness surged forward, drowning his pupils. At the sa ti, a grotesque seal erupted across his neck, a jagged mark that looked less like a tattoo and more like a brand sizzled into him by the fires of hell.
The calm, steady aura of the brother he knew was gone. In its place stood a monster draped in expensive silk—a howling tempest of dark, suffocating energy.
Matthias nudged him, a pale, ghost-like smirk flickering on his lips. "Wipe that look off your face. I’m fine... well, almost."
Leon didn’t laugh. He couldn’t. He lowered his head, the very air surrounding his brother becoming so dense, so heavy with malice, that it felt like he was breathing through lead.
"Your eyes... they’re darker than before," Leon’s voice was a re shadow of itself. "Your aura is worsening. Are you truly certain you can survive without the seal on that ring?"
Matthias thrust his hands into his pockets, a boyish gesture that failed to hide the violent twitching of his fingers. He leaned down, forcing Leon to look directly into those twin pits of obsidian.
"Hey, you troubleso little brother... I didn’t know you were this weak," Matthias whispered. "Don’t worry. No matter what happens, the darkness won’t swallow my soul. Besides, that seal... it restricted my power too much when that bastard Cedric pinned down. I don’t intend to fall for such a pathetic trap again."
Leon scoffed bitterly, his voice trembling despite his efforts to stay composed. "Even your voice... it sounds different. If your wife saw you like this, she’d mock you to no end."
They both laughed, but it was a desperate, hollow sound—clashing like the strike of rusted swords in a graveyard. Matthias sighed, and for a fleeting second, his stature wavered like a crumbling mountain.
"One day, I’ll have to tell her the truth," he murmured, his gaze drifting. "But for now... let this stay between us, brother. Watch over her until I return."
As Matthias turned to leave, Leon’s hand shot out, gripping his brother’s shoulder with a desperate, white-knuckled strength.
"Are you truly going to go this far for her?" Leon’s voice cracked, thick with disbelief. "You are literally throwing yourself into hell, Matthias."
Matthias paused. He didn’t pull away. Instead, a cold, haunting smile stretched across his lips—a smile that looked eerily beautiful amidst the shadows of his transford face.
"Even hell seems like a pleasant place if it’s in her company," he replied, his voice a low, gravelly hum. "I cannot bear to watch her drown in this darkness alone. Either we both find the light... or we both rot in the abyss together."
In that lightless room, Alisha’s consciousness didn’t return with a gentle awakening; it arrived with a sharp, shattering jolt of terror. Her vision blurred, struggling to make sense of the imdiate surroundings. She found herself staring up at a cold, unadorned ceiling—jagged stone that seed to breathe with a damp, ancient hostility.
Panicked, she tried to turn her head to get her bearings, but her skull was held fast, fixed in place by an invisible, suffocating pressure. She strained against it, her breath hitching as the realization struck her: her body was no longer her own. She was pinned to a frigid slate slab. As she thrashed against her restraints, the rhythmic, tallic rattle of chains filled the silence. Heavy iron cuffs were clamped around her wrists and ankles, biting deep into her soft skin, securing her like a sacrificial animal prepared for slaughter.
"Awake?"
The voice sliced through the heavy, oppressive silence of the dark room, and a cold dread imdiately washed over her. It was that sa voice—the low, lodic chuckle that had paralyzed her just before the black mist had claid her mind.
A figure stepped from the shadows, their form still partially obscured, but the malevolent intent radiating from them was palpable.
"How was your rest, Your Majesty?" they asked, the words dripping with a mockery that felt like a whip against her skin.
"Who... who are you?" Alisha managed to wheeze, her throat raw with a primal fear she had never known.
He paused, seemingly savoring her distress. They spoke with a horrifying calmness. "Now, wouldn’t that just kill the surprise, Your Majesty? Don’t be so impatient. We have quite so ti, you and I."
"Release !" she scread, her voice cracking as she gathered her regal authority like a broken shield. "I am the Empress! I will make you pay for this atrocity! My son—my husband—they will hunt you down and tear you apart!"
The only response was a low, dry laugh that sent a fresh wave of nausea through her stomach.
Alisha’s voice rose in a frantic, jagged scream, her eyes bloodshot as she glared at the shadow before her. "The Emperor... he will be here soon! He will find you, and he will make you beg for the death you are giving now! You won’t survive this... I told you, release !"
He froze for a heartbeat, then let out a low, mocking laugh that echoed off the damp stone walls. It wasn’t the laugh of a man who was afraid; it was the laugh of a predator who had already won.
"The Emperor?" he mused, his voice dripping with venomous amusent. "Well then... I suppose I shall enjoy this little ga of cat and mouse. Let us see if he can find before I finish what I ca here to do."
He leaned in closer, his presence smothering her. "But tell , Alisha... do you think he will still want you when he sees what is left?"
The person began to move, their footsteps slow and asured—an agonizing countdown to the horror about to unfold. Alisha watched, her heart hamring against her ribs, as they approached a small brazier. The coals within glowed with a sickening, vibrant orange light.
They returned to her side, their gaze fixed on her. Without a word, they grabbed her right hand, forcing her trembling fingers open. The heat was imdiate, radiating from the small, red-hot embers they held.
Alisha’s eyes widened like saucers as the realization of what was about to happen paralyzed her mind. "What are you doing? Stop!"
He didn’t hesitate. They placed the searing embers directly into the palm of her hand, then forcefully closed her fingers around them, securing her agonizing grip with a thick, coarse rope.
The scream that ripped from her throat was not human. It was a sound of absolute, unadulterated agony that shattered the heavy silence of the hidden chamber.
"AAHHH! STOP IT! YOU’RE KILLING ! MAKE IT STOP! AAAAAAHH! UNTIE !"
He rely watched, his eyes reflecting the flickering, fiery glow of her suffering. He stood motionless as the cloying, heavy scent of burning flesh began to pollute the cold, unyielding air.
"Mmm... your screams truly are exquisite, Your Majesty," the voice murmured, a chilling edge of delight vibrating through the words. "Perhaps... I should treat myself to a bit more."
Ignoring her pleas, he reached back into the brazier, retrieving more glowing embers. With agonizingly slow precision, he began to distribute the fire across her limbs—pressing the searing heat into the tender skin of her legs and arms. Each touch was a new eruption of agony, a fresh wave of fire that threatened to drown her consciousness entirely.
"Please... stop... I’m dying... you’re killing !" she wailed, her body convulsing against the iron chains. Her regal dignity had long since been reduced to ash.
"No, no," he countered, his tone almost soothing in its cruelty. "You won’t die. If I wanted you dead, I would have turned you into a funeral pyre long ago. We are going to take everything from you, Alisha... slowly. Breath by breath. Inch by inch."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "After all... this is nothing compared to what you did to your friend, is it?"
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