The news of Esmeralda's death reached Claudia the moment she stepped foot back into the empire.
For a brief moment, she thought she had misheard. Surely, she had misheard.
But then she saw the grim expressions of the palace attendants, the guards who could not meet her eyes, and the solemn silence that greeted her instead of a warm welcome.
A sharp chill crept into her bones. They knew. They all knew Esmeralda was gone.
Her vision blurred, the weight of those unspoken words pressing down on her like an iron cage. No, this couldn't be real. Esmeralda was alive. She had to be.
As Claudia stepped forward, her body felt disconnected from reality. Each step she took down the vast marble halls of the palace echoed in her ears, deafening against the suffocating silence.
Her heart pounded violently against her ribs.
No. No, no, no.
Her breath came shallow as she pushed forward, her fingers clenched into trembling fists.
Where was he? Where was Michaelis?!
The moment she reached the throne room, her eyes locked onto the man she had entrusted with everything.
Michaelis stood at the base of the grand throne, his imperial robes casting a dark silhouette against the towering stained glass windows behind him.
For a single heartbeat, neither of them spoke.
"Leave us," Michaelis ordered.
The guards and attendants hesitated before bowing and filing out of the room. The heavy doors shut behind them that sent a cold shiver down Claudia's spine.
And then, she moved. Faster than she thought possible, she rushed toward him, her hands curled into fists.
"You!" she screamed, slamming her fists against his chest. "How could you do this to me?! You promised me! You promised me, Michaelis!"
Her voice cracked, raw with grief. But she didn't stop. Again and again, she struck him, though her blows were weak against him. The pain in her heart far outweighed the ache in her hands.
Michaelis remained silent, his jaw tight as he stood unmoving. He let her hit him, let her grieve, let her rage consume her. Because he knew. He had known this moment would come. He had prepared himself for it, told himself it was necessary. That it had to be done.
But standing here now, watching his beloved Claudia break before his eyes, he felt a pain that no war, no battle, no wound had ever brought him.
"Why… why, Michaelis?" Her voice wavered, her fists slowly falling to her sides. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she gazed up at him with shattered eyes. "Why did you kill my sister?"
Michaelis exhaled deeply, his throat tightening.
"You know why, Claudia," he said, his voice low, almost reluctant. "It had to be done."
Claudia shook her head violently. "No! No, it didn't! You didn't have to kill her! She was my sister!"
"She wasn't just your sister," Michaelis replied, his tone hardening. "She was a threat. To the empire. To you."
Claudia flinched.
She searched his face, desperate to find even the smallest hint of regret, of hesitation. Something to tell her that he hadn't wanted this, that it hadn't been a choice.
But there was nothing.
Only cold, immovable resolve.
"You mean to tell me that Esmeralda, the sister who raised me, who protected me had to die?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "That there was no other way?"
Michaelis closed his eyes briefly before meeting her gaze once more.
"She tried to kill you, Claudia," he said, quieter now, as if pleading for her to understand. "She poisoned your drink. If the High Priest hadn't been there, you would have died. Is that the sister you're mourning?"
Claudia's breath hitched. The memory surfaced like a ghost she had buried deep.
The burning pain in her stomach. The world spinning around her. Michaelis holding her as she collapsed, his voice calling for healers, his hands shaking as he clutched her limp body.
And then... Esmeralda.
Standing at a distance. Watching. Expressionless. But… No. No, Esmeralda wouldn't have done that.
"She wouldn't," Claudia whispered, shaking her head. "She wouldn't have tried to kill me."
Michaelis clenched his fists. "And yet, she did. We have evidence, Claudia. She did."
"She must have had a reason!" Claudia insisted. "If you had let me talk to her—"
"Talk to her?" Michaelis let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "How many times have you tried to talk to her? And what did you get in return? Every time you reached out to her, she pushed you away. She humiliated you in front of the nobles, framed you for crimes you didn't commit. And when that wasn't enough, she tried to kill you. She didn't even try hiding it!"
Claudia staggered back, gripping her arms.
"Then tell me, Michaelis," she wanted to scream, "Why does this feel wrong? Why do I feel like I don't know the whole truth?"
Michaelis's gaze darkened, but his voice was softer now, almost pitying. "Because you don't want to believe it, Claudia. You refuse to see her for what she was. She was your enemy. She always has been."
Claudia's fingers curled into her palms, nails digging into her skin.
No. No, Esmeralda was never her enemy.
And yet…
Why had she never defended herself? Why had she never denied the accusations?
A memory surfaced from their childhood, gentle and distant, like a whisper from the past.
"Do you think the stars love each other?" Claudia had once asked.
"If they do, then they must also know the pain of being apart."
Back then, Claudia had laughed, thinking it was a beautiful, romantic thought.
But now…
Was this what Esmeralda had meant? Was this what she had planned all along?
A fate written in the stars, one where she and Esmeralda were destined to be torn apart?
"Michaelis," Claudia whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Tell me… when Esmeralda was taken to the execution site, did she say anything?"
Michaelis hesitated. That hesitation sent a spike of fear through Claudia's chest.
"Michaelis," she pleaded, stepping closer, her voice more desperate now. "Please."
His shoulders tensed before he finally exhaled in defeat. "She didn't beg. She didn't cry. She just… stood there."
Claudia swallowed hard, her throat tight. "And?"
Michaelis let out a slow, heavy breath, as if reluctant to give her the final piece of the puzzle.
"She looked up at the sky," he admitted. "And she smiled."
Claudia's heart clenched so painfully she almost couldn't breathe.
She smiled.
Esmeralda had smiled as the flames consumed her.
Not in defiance.
Not in regret.
But as if she had already accepted her fate long before they bound her to the stake, long before the fire licked at her skin, long before the smoke swallowed her whole.
Tears blurred Claudia's vision. She swayed on her feet, the weight of grief crashing over her like a wave, pulling her under, drowning her.
"Michaelis," she whispered, her voice shaking, barely audible. "I want to see her."
Michaelis stiffened.
"Claudia—"
"Michaelis," she pressed, her hands trembling as she reached for him. "Please…"
This time, she wasn't commanding as a queen. She was pleading as a sister.
And Michaelis, the emperor, the man who had ordered Esmeralda's death with unwavering resolve looked at his wife, saw the pain in her eyes…
And sighed in defeat.