William sat hunched on his bed, the frayed edges of a thick blanket wrapped around his slumped form, his back pressed against the cold stone wall. The dim moonlight filtered through the slightly ajar window, casting pale streaks across the floor like ghostly fingers. A breeze, laden with the scent of rain and the faint waxy remnants of extinguished candles, whispered through the chamber, foretelling the storm that loomed just beyond the horizon. Shadows flickered like fleeting memories on the sparse furnishings, but none as dark as the one that lay heavy in William's chest.

Across from him, Vanessa leaned casually against the opposite wall, her arms crossed loosely, but her gaze was anything but relaxed. Her eyes, sharp and unforgiving, studied him as if peeling away the remnants of his soul. It was as if she could see through the layers of mask and flesh, sensing the turmoil roiling beneath.

"And what do you see, William?" she asked, her voice soft, a calculated sweetness beneath the words. "In those blue eyes of yours...what do you see?"

Vanessa... Lucian's maid.

Her words pressed on him, like a heavy weight on his chest. He could barely hold onto his thoughts, his mind a tangled mess of emotion. His head hung low, the pale strands of his disheveled hair hiding his weary face. His hands lay motionless in his lap, betraying the quiet storm that raged within.

Vanessa moved then, a fluid and unnerving grace in her steps, like a predator inching closer to its prey. She glided toward him, her presence like a dark shadow, smothering the fragile light in the room. With a slow, deliberate motion, she crouched at the foot of his bed, her fingers brushing lightly against his feet, a touch that was disarmingly soft, but laced with something far darker.

"William," she murmured, her voice now a low, sultry whisper that crawled beneath his skin.

Argh!

A grunt escaped his lips, the sound raw and almost feral.

What is this game she plays?

"You have not eaten or slept, are you even alive?," she continued, her gaze unwavering, a silent accusation in her words. "You are nothing but a shadow of your previous self, what happened to the old William?"

Her words pricked at him like thorns, sinking deep, threatening to pull him further into despair. He felt the weight of her judgment, heavy and suffocating, his thoughts spiraling.

I... I can't.

Her hand rose, trembling ever so slightly, hovering near his face, caught between the desire to comfort and the need to control. Her voice dropped an octave, honeyed and persuasive.

"Sleep with me William, and I'll restore you to what you once we're?"

His shoulders tensed, his body stiffening at the proximity. His gaze finally met hers, green eyes burning with a quiet storm, yet his voice was calm, as if holding on by the thinnest thread.

"What could a mere maid like you offer me that would persuade me into doing such filthy acts against 'the mother' ," he said, each word laced with an authority that spoke of past power. "Leave before...I make you leave."

Vanessa's expression flickered, briefly hardening, then softening into something more dangerous. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear, her presence suffocating. " I can see you... William," she whispered, her voice dripping with possessiveness. "Deny it if it you want...your not the same as back then are you?"

Her hand slid over his cheek, her touch lingering, her intent clear. William's chest tightened, his patience snapping like a thin rope about to break. In a violent motion, he seized her wrist, throwing her hand away, his voice thunderous in the silence.

"Enough!" he roared, his voice vibrating through the room. "I am William Ponthieu, Prince of Vaeloria. I won't take this nonsense any longer. Get off me maid."

Vanessa's smirk widened, cruel and knowing. She was unfazed. Her eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction. "You may claim to be a God, they may say you are and you might perform feats akin to one, but you and I know inside you are more frail than a commoner. Think I can't see it?"

Her words wormed their way into his mind, a seed of doubt planted, igniting anger and confusion. He turned away, breaking eye contact, struggling to rid himself of her oppressive presence.

Is this really just a maid....why is she not scared, trembling by my presence.

Yet, despite his resistance, a part of him, a small, fragile part, wavered. He could not acknowledge it, even to himself, but her touch, her words, they stirred something within him that should not have been.

"Vanessa..." he began, but his voice faltered.

Her smile was wicked, knowing, victorious. "Have you accepted yourself, William? ," she purred, her voice a mocking caress. "Look into my eyes, William!" She chuckled slightly, "don't you sense fear...."

William clenched his jaw, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of her relentless teasing. She moved, her hands covering his eyes now, soft, oppressive. It was like being trapped in a dream he could not wake from.

"Are you scared, William?" she murmured, her voice now an ethereal, haunting lullaby. "Don't be...this is just a bad dream."

The world slipped away as darkness swallowed him whole, his vision fading as her whispered promises lured him into an unnatural slumber.

---

When the morning light broke through, it brought with it a storm of accusations that shattered the fragile silence of the castle. William awoke, the bed beneath him cold and lifeless. Around him stood familiar faces, his father, King Alaric, and his brother, Prince Lucian. Their faces were set in grim lines, judgment in their eyes. Vanessa stood behind them, weeping as if her heart had been shattered, her innocence feigned.

The king's voice was like ice, cutting through the air. "William, what is this treachery I hear?"

Vanessa fell to her knees, her tears a twisted performance of sorrow. "He... he forced himself upon me, Your Grace," she cried, her voice trembling with false distress. "He tore at my clothes, cast me into his bed. I fought, but his strength... it was too much."

William surged to his feet, his heart pounding with indignation. "Lies! This is treachery, Father, I swear it!"

Vanessa clung to Lucian, her feigned innocence hanging like a noose. "If not for Prince Lucian, I... I would not be standing here today."

Lucian met his father's gaze, his face a mask of unreadable calm. "Yes, Father," he said at last, his words cold and unfeeling. "I saw it myself."

William's heart sank, the dagger of his brother's words sinking deep. "Quiet!" he roared, his voice thick with betrayal. "What are you playing at, Lucian!"

But Lucian did not look at him. He turned his gaze to the king, his face betraying no emotion, not even the faintest flicker of remorse. "He is unfit to bear the name of Ponthieus. His actions have brought shame upon this house."

The king's voice trembled with sorrow, his expression hardened with finality. "William," he said softly, almost mournfully. "I can't not look at you the same... this is beyond me."

Lucian stepped closer then, stepping into the light, his face illuminated for the first time. His blond hair, longer than William's, framed a face marked by scars, the most haunting of which were his eyes, void of reflection, empty, and yet seething with contempt. For the first time, William saw it clearly, the hatred that had always simmered beneath the surface. Lucian's expression was relaxed, detached, yet his eyes burned with malice, cold and unforgiving.

Lucian's voice was calm, his words a calculated blow. "Father, listen!" William fell to his knees, clutching the king's robes. "I, William swear on 'The mother' I did not-"

Lucian struck him then, preventing him from speaking further, his hand crashing against William's face, the sound sharp and unforgiving. "Quiet you traitor, you decieving...demon!" he spat.

This dog!

In a desperate reaction, William lunged toward Lucian, his hands raised, calling upon his "envisionment," his voice trembling with rage as he cried, "Judgment!"

But nothing happened. He fell to the ground, his body aching, the air mocking him with its silence. He rose again, struggling, desperate to summon the light that had once been his strength. But again...nothing. His power had left him.

They watched. The room stood still, like a crowd at an execution. The Sun had shifted, casting Lucian in the light, and William, he was left in the dark. The darkness of despair.

Lucian's expression twisted then, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. 'The Mother' was with him now, no longer with William. And in that moment, William saw it, the fleeting satisfaction in Lucian's eyes. His world fractured, the darkness consuming him.

"Lucian...why?...my strength...the praises I get...why are you like this...," William uttered through gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper, but full of venom. "What's the woman..."

Before he could continue, the king's voice cracked through the air like thunder. "Silence... William, are you not done?" he bellowed. "Are you not ashamed, do you not feel guilty...are you not finished?" His voice wavered, yet there was no softness in it. No compassion.

William turned to his father, broken, barely able to move. "Is it because I have no power...you can see I've lost it, right?" he muttered, his voice hollow. "You could tell as soon as you entered, couldn't you...yet you turned a blind eye" His words were a desperate plea, a call for any sign of recognition from those who had abandoned him.

The king's face hardened, a cold finality creeping into his expression, as if William's fate were already sealed. Lucian's face, too, was unyielding, a mask of disdain that made William's heart burn with rage.

Lucian stepped closer, crouching low, his voice a deadly whisper. "You lost," he said, his words dripping with contempt. "Your weakened self can barely stand. 'The Mother' no longer blesses your 'envisionment.' You are a deceiver, a fallen soul." His words pierced into William's heart like a blade, each one a reminder of his degradation.

William could barely speak, his throat dry with despair, but Lucian was not done.

"Well... who am I to speak," Lucian murmured, his lips curling into a dark smile. He leaned closer, his breath hot against William's ear. "I'll be you William while you are gone...the you that isn't scared, the you that would've saved Luca."

"Lucian... I swear... It was not my fault...I didn't mean to ," William shouted, his voice raw with fury,

The king stood, his expression unreadable as he watched the discord between his sons unfold. He raised his hand, a final, decisive gesture. "Enough, Lucian. Leave this sinner be," he commanded, his voice cold, yet tinged with an edge of sorrow.

But the king's gaze never softened. It remained unyielding, and with that, he spoke, his words final, without mercy. "You are no longer the William you were, you amount to nothing now...you are no Ponthieus, you going to fade into nothingness."

"No... no...!" William screamed, his voice breaking as the king invoked his power.

"Envisionment: The Mother's Eternal Void," the king intoned.

In an instant, darkness swallowed William whole, pulling him into a blackened abyss, a void of endless silence and despair.

And in the quiet of his chamber, the single candle flickered once, then snuffed out, leaving only the faint, acrid scent of wax to linger in the air, a memory of the light that had once been.