The halls of the imperial palace were vast and imposing, their grandeur matched only by the eerie silence that seemed to follow Simone wherever he went. Among the servants, hushed whispers carried stories—rumors that were more chilling than the ghost stories they would share on quiet nights.
"The Crown Prince... He hasn't eaten a single meal since he returned from that training," one maid whispered, her voice trembling.
"I saw him once, late at night," another added, her face pale. "He was in the study, going through documents. He didn't blink, didn't pause... It was like he wasn't human. And the air—" She shivered. "It felt like I couldn't breathe, like the room was closing in on me."
"It's the power," an older steward murmured gravely. "The emperor forced him into that training. Locked him in for months, they say. No food, no rest, just... darkness. Whatever came out of that room isn't the same shy, awkward boy we all knew."
They all nodded, the memory of the 5th Prince fresh in their minds. Simone, before his Awakening, had been jovial in his own quiet way—overweight, shy, but quick to laugh or smile. He had been unremarkable compared to his siblings, often overlooked and dismissed. But now, he was unrecognizable.
"I used to deliver meals to him," another servant whispered, her voice tinged with sorrow. "He always thanked me, even when no one else did. But now..." Her words trailed off, tears glistening in her eyes. "Now, he doesn't even look at us. It's like he's... empty."
"Not empty," the steward corrected grimly. "He's become something else. Something beyond human. And it's terrifying."
Their whispers reached ears they hadn't intended.
In an adjacent corridor, hidden by a decorative alcove, Adrian, Livia, Cassian, and Selene stood frozen, having overheard every word. Their expressions ranged from shock to guilt, each sibling processing the implications in their own way.
"Locked in the training room for months?" Livia muttered, her fiery personality unusually subdued. "No food? No sleep? How... How is he even alive?"
"It explains why he's like this," Selene said softly, her calm voice betraying a hint of unease. "Why he's so... cold."
Adrian's jaw clenched. The memory of his spar with Simone resurfaced—the darkness, the suffocating power, and how easily Simone had defeated him. At the time, Adrian had been angry, humiliated even. But now, a different emotion crept into his heart: regret.
"He gave up more of himself than any of us ever did," Cassian said, his voice heavy with realization. "We thought he was just hiding his power, but..."
"He lost himself," Livia finished, her voice barely above a whisper.
None of them said anything for a long moment, the weight of their thoughts pressing down on them.
Unbeknownst to them, Simone already knew.
Through the shadows that whispered and writhed like living things, Simone had heard every word the servants said, every word his siblings exchanged. He knew they had overheard the rumors, knew they were piecing together the truth of what had happened to him.
But he said nothing.
From his chambers, Simone sat in silence, his crimson eyes staring at the wall as though he could see through it. He could feel their emotions—the guilt, the shock, the regret—but none of it stirred anything within him. Where once he might have been hurt or angry, now there was only emptiness.
"They finally understand," he thought to himself, though the realization brought no satisfaction.
As the shadows swirled around him, he leaned back in his chair, his face devoid of emotion. He had given up everything—his humanity, his freedom, his dreams—for a role he had never wanted. And yet, he carried it out flawlessly because that was all he had left.
The siblings eventually dispersed, each lost in their thoughts, unable to confront Simone directly. And as they left, Simone remained in his room, the whispers of the shadows his only company.
He could feel their guilt, their hesitation, their fear. But he didn't care.
He closed his eyes, not to rest, but to listen—to the empire, to its people, to the endless stream of information that flowed to him through the darkness.
The whispers never stopped.
And neither did he.