[Ten Days Ago]
The royal garden lay still beneath the pale glow of the moon. Flowers that once bloomed under loving care had withered, left to decay in the cold breeze. Empress Louise de Angelis sat alone on a stone bench, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes hollow—gazing not at the world before her, but into a past she could never escape.
She had not always been this cold.
Once, she laughed. Danced. Loved.
Especially… her son.
Arthur.
A boy who never sought the throne, but longed to be understood. While other nobles' children trained with swords and politics, Arthur wandered the gardens with poetry books in hand, whispering verses to birds and scribbling dreams into leather-bound journals.
Then came the day the Emperor's second wife died.
And everything changed.
In the name of duty, Emperor Charles turned his full attention to Charlotte. "Arthur still has his mother," he had reasoned. "But Charlotte… she has no one."
From that day on, Arthur was a shadow in his father's eyes.
No matter what he did, the Emperor's gaze never returned. Arthur's smiles grew forced, then faded. His once-bright eyes dulled. And the bond between the siblings—already strained by expectation—snapped under the weight of jealousy and grief.
He stopped chasing love and began chasing power.
At the academy, Arthur rose swiftly. A top student. A prodigy.
But then—barely a month in—everything unraveled.
Louise learned the truth: Arthur had joined the Shadow Prince.
He never told her why.
He never came to her for help.
And before she could reach him—
He was executed.
The Empress had begged the Emperor to intervene. To save their son. But as always, his silence was deafening.
His priorities were unchanged: The Empire. And Charlotte.
No ceremony. No funeral. No justice.
Just silence.
And Charlotte?
Celebrated. Elevated. Crowned.
As if fate had chosen her. As if Arthur's life had been the price for her rise.
Grief became bitterness. Bitterness became madness.
And then came the whisper.
Not a scream.
A promise.
"You were right. She stole everything. Shall I help you take it back?"
Louise never asked who whispered it. She didn't care.
In her pain, she accepted the shadow.
It whispered truths she wanted to hear. Soothed the nightmares. Fed the fire. Promised justice.
Promised Arthur.
All she had to do... was fix the mistake the world made.
[Present Day]
Now, seated in the ruins of her choice, her hands slick with Charlotte's blood, Empress Louise de Angelis looked down at the imperial blade she once revered.
It gleamed faintly beneath the crimson.
But it felt... empty.
And behind her, something stirred.
Ancient.
Cold.
And smiling.
—To be continued..