It's funny how a whisper can feel like a scream.
I should've known something was off when I saw Noctis meeting with Frost. It wasn't the first time I'd caught them together, but this time, something felt different—heavier, almost like the air itself was charged with tension. Frost had always been the quiet one, the shadow among the Vortex family. Mysterious, always slipping through the cracks, leaving only the faintest traces of their presence. Their eyes were like ice, calculating, always one step ahead, and they knew how to play the game better than anyone. But this? This was more than just games.
I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew Frost was stirring something under the surface—something dangerous. It wasn't just about power anymore. It wasn't even about control. It was about manipulating both families, pushing them to the breaking point, then stepping in and sweeping up the pieces for themselves.
I had always been good at watching, observing. And that's how I knew Frost was pulling the strings, whispering their dangerous truths into the ears of both Noctis and Empress. The things they said—those soft, poisonous words—weren't just causing doubt. They were creating fissures, opening wounds that had barely started to heal.
Noctis was the first to show signs of it. I had seen the shift in him, in the way he held himself. There was a weight on his shoulders now, an unease that wasn't there before. He wasn't the confident leader he once was; his decisions were becoming more erratic, his eyes less sure of themselves. It was subtle at first, just a flicker in his gaze or a slight tremor in his voice, but I knew something had gotten to him.
The thing about Frost is they never confront you head-on. They didn't need to. They were the master of influence. They didn't have to shout to be heard. Their whispers were enough.
I saw it one evening as I walked through the halls of the Vortex estate. Noctis and Frost were sitting in a dimly lit study, their conversation quiet, but something in the air told me it wasn't just about business. Frost's voice was smooth, almost comforting as they spoke, each word measured, like a perfect note in a symphony.
"You're not seeing the full picture, Noctis," Frost said, leaning in just slightly, their eyes gleaming with that cold, calculating intensity. "The Blackthorns are cracking. Empress is losing her grip. But you're too focused on the game to see it. The pieces are falling into place… you just have to play it right."
Noctis clenched his jaw, obviously fighting the urge to push back. But there was doubt in his eyes—genuine doubt. The kind that told me Frost's words were hitting their mark.
And that's when it clicked. Frost wasn't trying to sway Noctis just for the sake of it. They were pushing him into a position where he would make a fatal mistake—one that would benefit them. Frost wasn't loyal to the Vortex family, not in the way Noctis thought. Frost was loyal only to themselves, to the power they could gain from this war. Noctis was a tool. Empress was a tool. And when they were finished with them, Frost would be the one left standing, their influence so deeply embedded in both families that they could control everything.
But it wasn't just Noctis who was being manipulated. I saw it with Empress too. I had been there, lurking in the background as Frost spoke to her, their voice like ice sliding under the door. Empress had always been strong, calculated, one of the most unshakable forces I'd ever seen. But even she wasn't immune to Frost's subtle manipulation. I watched as they planted the seeds of doubt, telling her things she didn't want to hear, things that made her second-guess her every move.
"The Vortexes think they've already won," Frost whispered, their words like poison, sliding through the cracks in Empress's carefully constructed world. "They're underestimating you. They think you'll crumble, but you've only just begun to show your power. This war is yours to win, Empress. If you play your cards right, Noctis will be nothing but a pawn in your game."
It was the kind of praise that could make a person drunk with power. Empress wasn't foolish, but even the strongest leaders had their weaknesses. And Frost knew exactly where to strike.
I wanted to stop it. To scream at them to wake up, to see that Frost was playing them like pieces on a board. But I knew that wouldn't do any good. Frost was too clever for that. Too patient. They didn't need to act in the open. All they needed to do was keep planting those seeds, watering the doubt, and waiting for both families to implode.
And that's exactly what was happening.
The tension between Noctis and Empress was building with every passing day, but neither of them knew that the person they should have feared wasn't the other family. It was Frost. Frost had made sure both families were at each other's throats, pushing them into a war they couldn't win, while they quietly set themselves up as the victor.
Frost's influence was growing, spreading like a disease. I couldn't tell if they were simply biding their time or if they had already decided who they were going to take down first, but one thing was clear: Frost wasn't just playing this game—they were controlling it. And soon enough, the game would be over, and they would be the one pulling the strings from the shadows.
As I watched them slip into the background once again, disappearing into the night like a ghost, I realized just how much power they had. And how little I understood about what they really wanted. Frost wasn't just a member of the Vortex family. They were the storm nobody saw coming, and by the time anyone realized what was happening, it would be too late.
This wasn't just about power anymore. It was about survival. And Frost was playing a game no one else even knew they were in.