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Chapter 46 - perspectives

Amaias prospective

Amaias, having grown up with a strong sense of justice, struggled to reconcile his loyalty to his family with the actions of his father. The realization that his own father had been involved in such horrific acts tore him apart. He had always believed in doing what was right, and now, faced with the undeniable truth of his father's sins, he felt the weight of betrayal not just from his family, but from the kingdom he had been raised to protect.

Determined to right the wrongs and to atone for his father's actions, Amaias made a firm decision. He would dedicate his life to serving the kingdom and Cior, the new queen, whose strength and determination had ignited something within him. Despite the pain of his father's crimes, he knew this was the path he had to take. It was the only way to truly honor the justice his family had denied for so long.

Amaias entered the competition to become the new duke with a single goal in mind—to earn the trust of Cior and prove that not all of the old bloodlines were tainted by corruption. When he emerged victorious, he was honored with the title and the symbol of power: a sword and shield. The weight of the sword in his hand was both a burden and a promise. It was a symbol of the responsibility he now carried, not just for his family's past, but for the future of the kingdom. With Cior's guidance and his unwavering dedication to what was right, Amaias vowed to be a force for change, both as a duke and as a protector of the people.

Arven prospective

Arven's Perspective:

When Arven learned that his mother had been taken away, he felt a mix of emotions—shock, confusion, anger, and even a strange sense of relief. He couldn't decide if he should hate her for what she had done or miss her for being the only family he had left. His vibrant, overconfident personality dimmed as he fell into a deep depression. Days turned into weeks, and he found himself sulking in his room, doing nothing productive.

His friends tried to cheer him up, but even their efforts fell flat. The once lively and carefree Arven had become a shadow of himself. His mind constantly replayed his last encounter with his mother and the moment Cior had taken her away. He blamed himself for not being able to stop it, for not knowing the truth sooner, and for being powerless to change anything.

One day, when the silence in his room felt too loud to bear, a letter arrived. The envelope was plain, and the handwriting on it was familiar—simple yet precise. It was a single sentence:

I would like you to participate in the competition.

Arven's heart raced. He knew it was from Cior. Only she would send such a message without explaining herself. For the first time in weeks, he felt a spark of hope. Maybe she hadn't completely forgotten him. Maybe she still saw something in him.

Without hesitation, he decided to participate in the competition. He trained harder than he ever had, using his anger, sadness, and guilt as fuel to push himself beyond his limits. Despite his inner turmoil, he channeled everything into proving himself worthy—not just to win the title, but to show Cior that he hadn't given up on her, on himself, or on their friendship.

When the day of the competition arrived, Arven stood among the participants with renewed determination. His usual overconfidence returned, but this time it felt more grounded. He fought fiercely, showing his skills and cunning in every challenge.

In the end, he emerged victorious. He was declared one of the new Dukes, a title bestowed upon him by Cior herself.

When she handed him the title, their eyes met for the briefest moment. Her expression was cold, professional, and detached. She said nothing personal, only a formal congratulation for his victory. Yet, Arven felt something in that fleeting glance—a silent acknowledgment, perhaps even a trace of pride.

Although she didn't say anything beyond what was necessary, Arven held onto the hope that somewhere inside, the Cior he knew still cared. He resolved to use his new position to make amends for his mother's crimes, to be a Duke that would uphold justice and fairness, and to one day restore their friendship.

But for now, he would wait. As much as it hurt, he knew that Cior had her reasons for keeping her distance. And until she was ready, he would respect her wishes, quietly doing his part to make the kingdom a better place—just as she had envisioned.

Ziven perspective

Ziven's Perspective

When Ziven first learned of his father's kidnapping, it was like his world had flipped upside down. He was very close to his father, often seeing him as both a mentor and a companion who understood his wild and carefree personality. The news devastated him, leaving him torn between disbelief and a seething anger. For days, he lashed out at everyone around him, unable to focus or sit still. The thought of her—Cior—being responsible filled him with conflicted emotions. She was his friend, someone he deeply cared about, but now she felt like a stranger.

As the days passed, Ziven's anger only grew. He started to blame himself, wondering if he could have prevented this if he had been more aware or if he had spoken up sooner. Yet, part of him also blamed his father for being involved in the experiments and causing this entire mess. He felt like he was trapped in a storm of emotions, unsure where to direct his rage.

On the day of the declaration, Ziven was filled with bitterness. He had no interest in participating in the competition for the title of duke. His anger at Cior for what she had done, at himself for feeling powerless, and at his father for his actions consumed him. He spent the morning pacing in his room, torn between defiance and duty.

As he sat by his window, a letter slid under the door. He recognized the elegant handwriting immediately—it was from Cior. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure if he even wanted to read it. But curiosity won over, and he unfolded the letter.

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The Letter

*"Ziven,

I know you're angry—angry at me, at your father, at the world. But don't let your anger control you. You have the potential to do so much more, to be someone who brings real change. You can lead with compassion, strength, and purpose. Prove that you are more than the mistakes of others.

You can rise above this.

Cior."*

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The words hit Ziven like a punch to the gut. He clenched the letter in his hands, his emotions boiling over. For the first time in days, his anger started to ebb, replaced by a sense of determination. If Cior believed in him, then maybe he could channel his anger into something meaningful.

When the time came for the competition, Ziven stood on the stage, his heart heavy but resolute. He pushed himself harder than he ever had before, driven not by the desire to win but by the need to prove that he could be better—better than the mistakes of the past, better than the anger that had consumed him.

When his name was announced as the new duke, Ziven felt a flicker of happiness he hadn't experienced in weeks. For a moment, he glanced at Cior, hoping for even a sliver of acknowledgment. But she remained stoic, her expression unreadable, and her attention firmly on the ceremony.

As he stood there, holding the title that came with so much responsibility, Ziven vowed to honor the trust she had placed in him. Deep down, he still felt the sting of betrayal, but he knew he couldn't let it define him. Instead, he chose to carry forward the lessons he had learned and make sure the future would be different—for everyone.