The light flickered.
Dim at first, barely a spark against the endless darkness that surrounded him. Then, like a droplet of ink spreading through water, the glow expanded, stretching and shifting until the void cracked apart once more.
Another scene unfolded before Alexander's eyes.
This time, he found himself inside a grand chamber—a place he had only seen once before.
The Imperial Throne Room.
Massive pillars lined the hall, their golden engravings glinting under the light of dozens of chandeliers. A crimson carpet stretched from the towering entrance to the raised platform at the far end of the room, where a grand throne sat.
And there, upon that throne, was the Emperor.
Dressed in an imperial robe of deep black and crimson, adorned with golden embroidery, Emperor Aurelian VII exuded power. His sharp golden eyes gleamed with an air of absolute authority, his lips curled into a faint smirk as he idly tapped his fingers against the armrest.
Before him, a cloaked figure knelt.
The man's form was draped in a dark, hooded coat that concealed his face entirely. His presence was like a shadow, a void of existence itself, and yet Alexander could feel the faint aura of something sinister emanating from him.
The Emperor's voice broke the silence.
"How are the preparations for the annihilation of House Valtor?"
The cloaked figure raised his head slightly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Everything is in place, Your Majesty. The pieces have fallen exactly as planned."
Aurelian chuckled, the sound deep and filled with amusement. "And Alexander?"
The figure nodded. "Executed at dawn, as decreed. The people cheered his death. There were no riots, no resistance. The name of Valtor has been branded as treasonous. The empire sees him as nothing more than a fallen disgrace."
Alexander's hands clenched into fists as he watched the scene unfold before him.
The emperor leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes gleaming with cruel delight.
"Good. Very good."
His voice was laced with satisfaction, as though this was nothing more than a well-played game.
The cloaked figure continued. "His allies among the nobility have already severed ties with House Valtor. With his name disgraced and his parents eliminated, the remnants of their faction have begun to scatter. Within weeks, no one will remember their name."
Aurelian exhaled in amusement. "How fickle loyalty is."
Alexander could only watch, frozen in place, as the emperor continued.
"I must say, it was quite a stroke of fortune that House Valtor decided to commit treason. It gave me the perfect excuse to rid myself of a family that had grown too powerful for its own good."
The cloaked figure's head tilted slightly. "What if they had not? What if the former Duke and Duchess had remained loyal?"
Aurelian let out a short laugh. "Does it matter?"
The air in the chamber turned cold.
The emperor's expression darkened, his smile widening. "Even if they hadn't planned rebellion, I would have found some excuse to eliminate them eventually."
Alexander felt something tighten in his chest.
So that was it.
It had never been about justice.
His entire family was doomed from the start.
His parents' betrayal may have been real, but it wouldn't have mattered—because the emperor had already decided their fate long before any of it happened.
"House Valtor was a threat," Aurelian continued, his voice smooth, almost casual. "Alexander's victories on the battlefield earned him the love of the soldiers and the admiration of the people. Even the high-ranking nobles started whispering that he was a better ruler than I. He was too dangerous to be left alive."
The emperor's lips curled into a vicious grin.
"But now, he is gone. And with him, any foolish ideas of challenging my rule."
Alexander felt something burn within him.
A deep, seething rage.
He had bled for this empire. Fought for it. Killed for it.
He had given everything.
And in the end, it hadn't mattered.
His achievements, his sacrifices—all of it was used against him.
He had been a pawn, a tool to be discarded the moment he became inconvenient.
The scene began to waver, the grand throne room distorting and dissolving into shadows.
And then—
A new light appeared.
Another scene unfolded before him.
This time, he saw the nobles.
The very ones who had once stood beside him, who had smiled and raised their glasses to toast his victories. The very ones who had cheered his rise to power.
Now, they sat in their lavish halls, laughing over goblets of fine wine.
"To think, we once saw Alexander as an ally," one noble scoffed, swirling his drink. "A shame he had to go."
"A shame?" Another man chuckled. "It was inevitable. He was always too ambitious for his own good. Had he survived, he would have become a greater threat than his father."
A third noble smirked. "He was a useful tool, though. His victories brought stability, and his reputation kept the borders secure. But in the end, that was all he was—a tool. And like any tool, he was discarded the moment he outlived his usefulness."
Laughter echoed through the hall.
Alexander's stomach churned.
So this was what they truly thought of him.
Allies? Friends? It had all been a façade.
Every meeting, every negotiation, every word spoken in good faith—all of it had been a lie.
They had used him.
His parents had used him.
His emperor had used him.
And now, he was gone, reduced to nothing but a villain in the empire's history.
The light flickered—
Then faded.
Once more, the world returned to nothingness.
Alexander drifted.
There was no sound, no movement, no warmth.
Just silence.
An empty abyss where time had no meaning.
He didn't know how long he floated there. Minutes? Hours? Days?
It didn't matter.
There was nothing left.
His name was ruined.
His family was gone.
His existence had been erased.
And yet, something still lingered within him.
A flicker of something deep, buried beneath the weight of betrayal and despair.
A part of him that refused to fade into the void.
Then—
A force gripped him.
It was sudden, like an invisible pull on his very soul.
A strange, overwhelming sensation—like being dragged by a current too strong to fight against.
His body—or whatever form he had now—lurched forward.
He tried to resist, but it was useless.
Something was calling him.
Something was pulling him away from the nothingness.
A path had opened before him, one that he had no choice but to follow.
So he let go.
He surrendered to the force, allowing it to pull him forward—
Towards whatever awaited him on the other side.