The air was stifling, heavy with unspoken fear. Before me, a semicircle of grim-faced advisors stared, following my every movement with their eyes. Ministers in richly embroidered robes, military commanders in armor, attendants-they all hovered at the edges of the great chamber. I sat in the middle, on the black throne, the cold surface against my back, pressing, as if to remind me of my place-or rather, his place.
One man stood out in the sea of faces. He was older, with sharp eyes and commanding presence. There was a silver insignia pinned to his chest—a cross and a sword intertwined—that seemed to be the source of his authority. He stepped forward, the sound of his boots echoing against the marble floor.
"My lord," he said, his tone sharp and clipped, "we sit here in crisis and yet you have nothing to say. Why do you just sit there? What are your orders?"
For a moment, I was frozen. Inside, my mind raged with panic and confusion, but outwardly, I forced my body to be still. My hands clutched at the arms of the throne, steadying me.
"I need to see a map," I said finally, my voice carrying an edge of authority I didn't entirely feel. "Bring me a detailed map of the empire. Now."
The old man furrowed his brows but nodded curtly. A servant hastened out and returned after a few seconds with a huge map rolled into his arms. He struggled to spread it across the council table, revealing the vast lands of the Callous Empire and those around it.
I rose from the throne and approached the table, my eyes scanning the map. It depicted a continent carved up by borders, rivers, and mountain ranges. The empire sprawled across the center, its vast territories marked by intricate sigils. But what caught my attention was the two great rivers which cut through its lands east to west, like natural fortifications. Beyond those rivers lay the territories of the coalition-united enemies waiting to pounce.
It came to me in an instant, as if whispered into my ear.
"We will retreat," I said, my voice firm and measured. "All territories beyond the rivers are to be given up. The populace will be forcibly resettled within the inner empire. We shall take up defensive positions along the rivers and fortify them strongly. A defensive empire is our sole hope for survival."
The room fell silent. The older man who had spoken earlier studied the map and then looked at me with narrowed eyes. "My lord, such an action would disrupt every aspect of the empire. Entire provinces would be emptied. The loss of farmland alone would devastate our food supplies. The people will starve."
I hadn't thought of that one. I opened my mouth to respond, and the words that came out weren't mine.
"Then would you rather execute them?"
The room went cold. The words had been calm, casual, merciless. My own voice, yet somehow not my own.
The old minister reeled back, his face ashen. A murmur ran round the room, but none dared look in my direction. It was as if those words hung in the air like a blade poised by a single thread.
I blinked, my mind racing. I hadn't meant to say that. The words had slipped out, unbidden, as if plucked from the mind of the tyrant whose body I now inhabited. I could still feel the weight of his memories clawing at the edges of my consciousness, whispering things I didn't want to hear.
Finally, the older man bowed his head. "As you command, my lord. We will begin preparations.
One after another, the council members did the same, muttering their compliance before filing out of the room. Their faces showed a mix of fear and unease. Even the older man, so sharp and composed before, looked shaken.
The doors closed with a heavy thud, leaving me alone in the vast chamber.
I slumped back into the throne, my hands clasping its armrests. My heart pounded in my chest, and my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Why did I say that? What the hell is happening to me?
I stared at the map, its lines and symbols blurring before my eyes. I didn't know why I cared. This empire was doomed. The coalition was too strong, its armies too numerous. Saving this place was impossible.
So, why do I think about how to save it?
And that voice. That voice.
It wasn't mine.
I sat there, the weight of everything crushing me, until a soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Enter," I said instinctively, my voice once again calm and composed.
The door creaked open, and a woman stepped inside. She moved hesitantly, as though afraid to be in the same room with me. Her long blue hair cascaded down her back, catching the light as she approached. Her figure clung to her clothes, and her face-soft yet beautiful-was filled with a mixture of fear and uncertainty.
She stopped a few feet from the throne, her head bowed.
"W-what is it?" I asked, though my voice betrayed a hint of unease.
She looked up at me, her hands trembling slightly. For a moment, I thought I saw tears welling in her eyes.
Then, out of nowhere, the word escaped my lips:
"Woman."
The room went silent.
I hadn't meant to say it. It had come out instinctively, as though plucked from some script I hadn't written.
My head spun, my fists clenched as my mind whirled in thought. It wasn't just the memories; it was more than that-it was as if pieces of this life, of his life, were still alive inside me, forcing their way to the surface.
I stared at the woman, her face frozen in a mask of fear and confusion.
And for the first time, I wondered if I was losing my mind.