A decade ago, the other blessed families began to lose their power due to their own foolishness. They betrayed each other, breaking the oath their ancestors had made—to protect one another and the world.
Instead of standing together, they turned against each other. Without Duke Calyric, the other three blessed families refused to support the Crown Prince, who was destined to become Emperor.
They doubted his legitimacy, claiming he didn't resemble the Emperor, and that his red eyes were a mark of demons.
---
"My lady, you look so happy today. You're smiling so much," Serra observed.
"Of course, I'm happy. I've finally found Selene's family," I said, my voice calm.
"Why are you speaking in the third person, my lady?" Clara asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.
"I've been living as Erana for so long," I explained, glancing down. "Selene's name still feels strange to me."
"Don't worry, my lady," Fiona chimed in, setting an array of desserts in front of me. "We'll help you get used to your real name."
"I'm a little surprised to see you asking for dessert, my lady," Clara said, raising an eyebrow.
"All of you sit too," I said, my tone warm but firm, gesturing for them to join me at the table.
Serra looked puzzled, unsure of why I invited her to sit at the same table. Nobles typically don't do that.I smiled and motioned for her to join us.
Fiona helped pull the chair out for Serra, who hesitated before sitting down. Fiona and Clara exchanged uncertain glances, but both took their seats as well.
"Eat," I said with a smile.
"So delicious!" Fiona exclaimed, her voice filled with pleasure as she took a bite.
"Serra, why aren't you eating?" I asked, noticing she wasn't touching her food. "Do I need to feed you?"
"Of course not, my lady," Serra replied quickly, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she began eating.
"You do like it, don't you?" I teased lightly, a small smile on my lips.
Serra looked up, her eyes wide in surprise. "Lady, did I ever tell you that I like sweets?"
I returned her gaze with a knowing smile. "No, you didn't. But you seem to enjoy them."
Instead of answering brightly, she just looked at me and said, "My lady, you're acting... differently today."
I tilted my head slightly, "Why?"
"Do you mind that I'm smiling and talking more today?"
"No, my lady," Serra said softly, her gaze dropping back to her plate. She smiled and continued eating, clearly more comfortable.
I glanced out of the window, watching the last rays of daylight fade into dusk.
"Alright, everyone," I said, my voice a little weary.
"It's getting late. You should all go rest. I'm going to sleep too."
I ushered them out, but Serra hesitated.
"My lady, you can't—" she started, concerned.
I cut her off, my tone gentle but firm. "Now that I've found my family, I'm happy. I can finally rest."
With that, I closed the door softly, the room settling into quiet darkness.
"Hah"....
I sigh, the weight of it pulling at my chest.
The smile fades, slipping away like a mask I can no longer hold up.
Looks like the smile I practiced was worth it.
I'm exhausted, utterly drained.
'Erana, now that you've found your family, I hope you're happy.'
But for me, it's not enough.
I just want to rest.
I'm so tired.
I walk toward the table, my movements steady, my grip firm as I take the knife.
'Nothing in my life had ever been tragic enough to justify a death wish.'
'Yet, human existence is a tapestry woven with pain-each thread a different sorrow, each life marked by its own kind of suffering.'
I found myself wondering, what had my mother lived for?
To be betrayed by both her sister and her husband—how had she endured that?
What drove her to keep going, to survive the torment, to wear a smile even as her heart broke?
And here I am, thinking of her once more.
Without realizing it, I felt the sharpness of the blade against my chest.
I drove it in, my body sinking to the ground.
It wasn't the pain of the blade that consumed me, but the weight of all I had carried inside for so long, finally breaking free.
'Please, just let me go. Let me find the peace that's been out of reach for so long.'
'I don't want to be trapped in this endless cycle of exhaustion anymore.'
'All I want is to cease to be. To finally find solace in the quiet embrace of death.'
---
We were walking toward the maid's chamber when I noticed Serra, her brow furrowed, lost in thought. She wore a look of suspicion, as if something was troubling her.
I glanced over at Clara. She too had a look of concern etched across her face, a quiet unease that matched serra.
Am I the only one who's stupid enough to not see something's wrong here?
I couldn't help but speak up. "Don't you think the lady has been acting oddly today? For the past few days, she's barely said a word or smiled—she seemed distant, almost as if in a constant state of sleep."
"But now... now she's smiling, speaking more than usual. I once read that when people suddenly act this way, being unusually cheerful or communicative, it can sometimes be a sign that they're planning something... something drastic."
I turned back to them, only to see both of them frozen in place, their faces pale and hard. Their eyes were filled with... fury?
I smiled awkwardly, confused. "Did I say something wrong?"
Serra suddenly bolted down the hallway toward the lady's room, her voice trembling with panic.
"Seven minutes have passed!
"Since we're on the second floor, and the lady's room is on the fifth, we don't have much time!"
"Clara, go get the Duke. His meeting with the priest should end in two minutes."
Clara, without a word, darted off toward the Duke's office, her face tense, her expression furious, but all I could do was stand there, frozen in confusion. I had no idea who to follow.
Suddenly, the realization hit me like a punch to the gut. My hand trembled involuntarily. No... no, it can't be...
Serra reached the lady's room, flinging the door open with urgency. The moment I stepped inside, I was met with the sight of horror—something I never thought I'd see.
The lady's body was slumped on the floor, her pink nightgown stained crimson. The blood soaked into the fabric, pooling beneath her.
I couldn't move. My legs were rooted to the spot, and I could only watch as Serra rushed to her side, calling her name in vain. She pressed her hands to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was hopeless. There was no breath in her.
Serra, her face streaked with tears, was trembling as she fought to do something, anything—but nothing worked. She was frantic, yet powerless.
With a broken voice, she turned to me."Fiona"...
"The blanket... give me the blanket!" Her words were desperate, panicked. "Her body is getting cold."
Slowly, as if in a daze, I stepped forward, my hand shaking uncontrollably. I handed her the blanket, and Serra wrapped it around the lady's form. But even the blanket quickly turned crimson, stained by the blood that wouldn't stop flowing.
Then, the Duke burst into the room, followed by Clara, the butler, and the head maid, all rushing in with a group of priests trailing behind them.
When I saw the Duke, my heart nearly stopped. His face, contorted with agony and fury, was one I had never seen before. It was a look of utter devastation, his eyes wide with panic and fear as he frantically scanned the room.
He gently laid the lady back on the bed, his voice commanding but full of raw emotion. "Heal her," he said, his tone sharp, though it cracked with an undercurrent of desperation.
One of the young priests knelt beside the lady, placing his hands over her wound, and a soft glow began to emit from his palms. But after a moment, the priest's face paled, and he looked up at the Duke, fear in his eyes.
"Sh-she... she isn't breathing," he whispered, his voice trembling.
The Duke fell to his knees beside her, clutching her cold hand gently. His voice, barely above a whisper, broke through the heavy silence. "Please... please come back, Selene." Tears streamed down his face as he spoke her name, his anguish so palpable, it felt like the room was suffocating.
Serra, still sitting in the pool of blood, was eerily still. Her face was a blank canvas—no tears, no emotion, just a hollow emptiness. Her eyes stared blankly at the floor, as if the world had already crumbled around her.