"Oh, really?" she hissed, rising from her chair with a slow, deliberate motion.
Before the boy could react, her hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar.
With a single, swift motion, she hoisted him up like a sack of potatoes.
"Call me old one more time," she growled, her lips curling into a menacing smile.
"I dare you."
The boy's legs flailed as he dangled in the air.
"W-wait! I meant wise! Responsible! N-not old!" he stammered, flapping his arms like a panicked bird.
Before Deventhia could deliver another lecture, the sound of her front door creaking open caught her attention.
She froze, the boy still dangling in her grip, as the door swung wide with a slow, deliberate motion.
A cold gust of wind swept through the room, extinguishing the single candle flickering on the table.
Deventhia turned toward the door, her blood running cold.
Standing there, illuminated by the faint moonlight, was the man she had run from five years ago.
The Emperor.
He stepped inside, his presence commanding and oppressive, his golden eyes scanning the room with a mix of cruel amusement and icy indifference.
His lips curved into a faint, mocking smile.
"Oh," he drawled, his voice smooth but laced with venom.
"So we have twins now, my wife?"
Eh?
What?
Deventhia's grip on the boy loosened, and he dropped back into his chair with a yelp.
She stared at the Emperor, her jaw slack, her brain grinding to a halt.
"My... what?" she croaked, her voice barely audible.
The Emperor's smirk deepened as he tilted his head, his gaze flicking between the children and her.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten.
I always knew you were impulsive, but to leave and have children without informing me?
Shameful, really."
"I—I—" she stammered, her hands flapping uselessly.
"Papa?" the little girl suddenly piped up, her voice breaking through the tension like a clap of thunder.
She turned to her brother, tugging on his sleeve.
"Bwother, is he our Papa?"
The boy folded his arms, glaring at the Emperor with a confidence that belied his age.
"Obviously.
Can't you see?
His eyes and hair look just like ours."
The Emperor raised an eyebrow, looking mildly impressed by the boy's audacity.
"Indeed?
Are you certain?"
"Are you blind?" the boy shot back, pointing at his own head.
"It's like looking in a mirror, old man."
The Emperor's lips twitched, his amusement growing.
"Old man?"
"Well, you're not exactly young," the boy replied with a shrug.
Deventhia remained frozen, her mind spinning like a wheel stuck in mud.
Twins?
My children?
The Emperor?
What in the actual—
She barely registered what happened next.
One moment, she was standing in her tiny kitchen, and the next, she was seated in a luxurious carriage.
The world around her blurred as the Emperor's voice filtered through her trance.
"What a fascinating pair," he mused, his tone rich with mockery.
"And here I thought you'd left to live a quiet life."
Deventhia blinked once, twice, her eyes staring blankly at the lavish interior.
Am I dead?
Is this a fever dream?
By the time they stopped for the night, the haze in her mind hadn't lifted.
The Emperor had set up a camp near a crackling fire, and the children were seated beside him, chatting away like they had known him their entire lives.
"So," the Emperor said smoothly, turning his attention to the boy.
"Are you my children?"
The boy rolled his eyes, leaning back with a theatrical sigh.
"Are you seriously asking that?
Look at us!
We're practically your clones!"
The Emperor chuckled, a low, dangerous sound.
"Such confidence for someone so small."
Deventhia, still in a daze, stared at the flames, her face blank.
She felt like a robot, her limbs heavy, her mind struggling to process reality.
The little girl tugged on her brother's sleeve again.
"Bwother, if he's Papa, does that mean we're a famiwy now?"
The boy shrugged.
"I mean, yeah.
But don't expect much.
He seems kinda scary."
The Emperor smirked, leaning forward to ruffle the boy's hair.
"Scary, am I?
You're quite bold for someone who inherited my personality."
"I didn't inherit it," the boy retorted.
"I perfected it."
As the two locked eyes in a silent battle of wills, Deventhia's gaze remained fixed on the fire, her lips finally moving in a slow, robotic whisper.
'What... is... happening?'
The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the otherwise quiet night as I sat there, trying—desperately—to make sense of everything.
The flames flickered, casting dancing shadows around us, and yet, none of it felt real.
It was as if I had somehow stepped out of my own body and was watching this absurd drama unfold from the sidelines.
Why am I here?
I blurted out before I could stop myself, my voice hoarse, betraying the confusion that was eating me alive from the inside.
The Emperor's smirk could have frozen the air around us.
He leaned back casually, his eyes gleaming with something between amusement and disdain.
"Oh, how dare you even think of saying that," he sneered, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension.
"After running away with royalty and giving birth to them in secret.
Do you think you can simply waltz away from your responsibilities, Devanthia Aurelia?"
I froze, my mind going blank for a moment.
What?
Run away with royalty?
The words bounced around inside my skull like they were from another lifetime.
I wasn't sure if I was hearing things correctly or if the world had gone completely mad.
I didn't run away with anyone!
I didn't give birth to anyone!
I didn't even give birth to a rat!
I tried to breathe, tried to process this insane situation, but all I could think of was one thing:
This is not happening.
I had spent years planning my escape from the Celestial Empire.
I had gathered herbs, saved enough to make a run for it, and dreamt of the Elven Kingdom—my grandmother's homeland—where I could settle quietly and live without fear.