Leon sat by the large window in his chambers, staring out at the garden below. The blossoms swayed gently, painted in the hues of the setting sun, but the serene sight did little to ease the storm in his heart. News of Atlas's strange behavior had spread among those closest to them—the cold, distant stares, the subtle hesitations in his voice, and the way he seemed to withdraw into himself.
Cecily had returned only moments ago, her expression grim as she recounted her conversation with Atlas.
"He's resisting whatever they've done to him," Cecily said, pacing the room. "But it's like... like something is clawing at his mind, trying to tear him away from everything he holds onto."
Leon clenched his fists, his chest tight with frustration. "Why didn't he tell me?" he whispered. "Why didn't he trust me enough to say something?"
Cecily paused, her gaze softening. "He's protecting you, Leon. That much is clear. Whatever this is, it's dangerous, and he doesn't want you caught in the middle of it."
Leon shook his head, standing abruptly. "I'm already in the middle of it. We both are. He can't shut me out—not when he's suffering like this."
Before Cecily could respond, a knock at the door interrupted them. A guard entered, bowing deeply before speaking.
"Your Highness, urgent news from the border. Scouts have reported unusual activity—agents from the Fleur Empire have been spotted near our territory."
Leon's heart sank. The timing couldn't be a coincidence. "Prepare the council," he said firmly. "We need to address this immediately."
As the guard left, Cecily stepped closer, her expression conflicted. "Leon, you're not just going to let this go, are you?"
Leon turned to her, his resolve hardening. "No. If the Fleur Empire is behind this, then I need to face them—and I need to help Atlas. He's been my shield for long enough. It's time I became his."
---
Atlas's POV
The flickering light of a single candle illuminated Atlas's study as he sat hunched over his desk, staring at the scattered documents in front of him. Maps, letters, and reports blurred together, the words slipping through his grasp like water.
He clenched his fists, the edges of the parchment crumpling beneath his fingers. His mind felt like a battlefield—half his thoughts clear and focused, the other half shrouded in a fog of confusion and fear. And then there was the voice, the insidious whisper that crept into his consciousness when he was weakest.
"You can't protect him," it taunted. "Not when you can't even trust yourself."
Atlas slammed his hand down on the desk, the sharp sound echoing through the empty room. "Get out of my head," he hissed through clenched teeth.
But the voice only laughed, dark and mocking. "You think you can resist me forever? Your mind is a thread unraveling, Atlas. Soon, there will be nothing left."
He squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing uneven. The one thing anchoring him, the one light in the darkness, was Leon. But every time he tried to focus on him, the memories slipped away, leaving only fragments behind.
A knock at the door broke through the haze. Atlas straightened, forcing himself to regain composure as he called out, "Enter."
Captain Darian stepped inside, his expression tense. "Your Highness, scouts have reported activity near the border. It appears the Fleur Empire is mobilizing."
Atlas stood, his posture rigid. "Then we need to be ready. Alert the council and prepare our defenses."
Darian hesitated, his gaze lingering on Atlas for a moment longer than necessary. "Your Highness... are you all right?"
Atlas's jaw tightened, and he forced a curt nod. "I'm fine. Focus on the task at hand."
But as Darian left, the flicker of doubt remained, gnawing at the edges of Atlas's resolve. He wasn't fine. And he didn't know how much longer he could keep pretending.
---
Council Chamber
Leon entered the council chamber with Cecily at his side, his expression set with determination. The room was already buzzing with tension as council members whispered among themselves, their faces shadowed with worry.
Atlas stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding despite the undercurrent of exhaustion that Leon now recognized in his every movement. Their eyes met briefly, and for a moment, Leon saw something there—pain, desperation, and an unspoken plea for understanding.
The meeting began with the usual reports—troop movements, border defenses—but Leon's mind was elsewhere, focused entirely on Atlas. He watched him closely, noting every subtle change: the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the table, the slight furrow in his brow as he struggled to concentrate.
When the topic shifted to the Fleur Empire, Leon finally spoke. "We need to address the real threat here," he said, his voice steady but firm. "The agents of the Fleur Empire are not just after territory or resources. They're targeting us directly, and we need to understand why."
Atlas's gaze snapped to him, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "What are you implying, Leon?" he asked, his tone sharper than expected.
Leon hesitated, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes in the room. "I'm implying that their actions are calculated. That they know exactly where to strike to hurt us the most."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the shuffling of papers and the faint crackle of the fire. Finally, one of the council members spoke.
"Do you have evidence to support this claim, Your Highness?"
Leon's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "The evidence is in their movements. They're not acting like conquerors—they're acting like manipulators, trying to weaken us from within."
Atlas's expression remained unreadable, but his fingers stilled, resting motionless on the table. Leon's words had struck a chord—of that, he was certain.