The world around me felt... wrong.
Everything was dim, hazy. Like I was seeing through smoked glass with my senses being dulled.
I stood in a hallway I recognized. The same extravagant carpets, the same golden trim carved into the walls, and the familiar paintings of faceless men and masked saints glaring down at me. They're eyes followed me the more I looked. Except this time... it wasn't during the chaos.
Everything was still. Quiet, like none of the past events had transpired.
My hands were smaller, about half the size that they usually were.
I blinked, slowly looking down.
Black trousers. A white buttoned shirt, sleeves slightly too long. The black vest was tight, almost choking me, and the polished shoes on my feet were at least a size too big, not fitting too well.
It was a servant uniform.
I felt lighter, younger, smaller. I felt as though the body I was unfamiliar, as if I was possessing someone, and I had no control over my movements.
My body moved on its own, as if I was merely a spectator. I walked forward, holding a tray with glasses of varying liquids, it shone in the dim light of the hallway I was in. I recognized this hallway, it was the main hallway of the mansion.
The main hallway of the mansion.
I could hear chatter, as if a large crowd had gathered inside the main hall. Before I could make a guess, I heard a voice start to speak, overpowering the murmurs of the crowd. I recognized the voice.
Arthur.
He sounded robust and carried an air of grace and authority through his voice. He was delivering some speech with all the charisma of a polished actor. I couldn't hear his words clearly, but I already knew what he was saying.
I had lived it.
And then suddenly, mere seconds after I heard his voice, I started feeling strange.
A pulse in my head. Not physical, but deep. Like my heart had moved itself into my head, the beating became periodic.
I lost my footing for a moment, and I was forced to brace against the wall. My hands were faintly trembling, the tray clattering slightly in my grasp, threatening to spill.
Why do my legs feel so heavy?
I took another step, slower this time, careful not to spill the tray. My head ached. I could feel sweat forming against my neck, running down my air tight collar. The hallway ahead of me stretched longer, and longer, like a painting being pulled away, it almost felt infinite.
I looked around for someone - anyone.
But the hallway was empty. Silent. Cold. As if it was abandoned.
Another pulse assailed my head, sharper this time. It felt as though I was slowly losing control of my body, and the more I heard Arthur speak, the more painful it became.
I dropped the tray.
The sound of it hitting the ground echoed like a thunderclap, but no one came to my aid. The world itself felt like it held its breath, and I felt as though I was being watched.
I stumbled, hands gripping the wall, dragging myself along the edge as I moved toward something I didn't remember being there before.
A full-length mirror.
At first I avoided looking, in fear of what'd I see. I knew something wasn't right, and I didn't want to be proven right. I could feel it in my gut, but some sick part of me pushed my eyes up.
I looked, and I saw... him.
The boy.
The boy I impaled in the banquet hall, which the dark had invaded.
His wide eyes stared back at me, his pale skin almost porcelain under the candlelight. His servant's uniform was pristine, his features delicate, yet unfortunately unmistakable.
It was him. I was him.
My mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, black smoke leaked from his eyes and lips. It curled across the mirror like veins, crawling up the sides, and started invading the area around me.
I tried to move, but my legs were gone, I felt as though my legs had suddenly dissipated. My body collapsed, my senses started to blur, what little breath I could manage vanishing from my lungs.
The same boy stepped out of the mirror.
He walked toward me. His face, carried a deranged smile, one that I unfortunately recognized all too well.
T-thats, the cultists- .
The boy, with his grotesque smile, crouched down towards me on the floor. He put his hand around my neck, and I could feel my neck start to tighten up. I tried to struggle, but I had neither a voice nor hands to struggle with. Than, out of nowhere-.
I woke up.
I sat up, gasping for air. My eyes shot open, chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to suck in air that felt too thin, as if it was a precious commodity. My entire body ached, but I could feel warmth, warmth of a bed.
Looking around, I saw silk sheets covering me. A thick duvet also covered my body, which felt much more comfortable than my old dingy mattress in my apartment. The mattress was soft, obviously a very expensive piece. The pillow under my head was too comfortable to be real, and I started to feel more relaxed as I laid my head back down.
This wasn't exactly the same dingy room I was used to, nor was it the mansions floor.
This was... a Nobles bedroom?
A luxurious one, even for Noble standards.
Tall windows to my left, veiled in closed ivory curtains. The golden shimmer of early dawn seeped in through the cracks, indicating it was early morning. Candlelight danced softly and gently from a golden candle holder beside my bed, the flame calm and steady.
I wiped sweat from my face with a shaky hand, and started to reflect over what just happened.
Another shitty dream.
I was just about fed up with everything that had happened. Just as I had left my seclusion, I had been thrust into a cultist conspiracy, and a whole assassination attempt.
The worst part is, this isn't even the first time.
I didn't know what to say. I knew that the Authors were deranged, but I didn't think they were this messed up.
I already knew how bad it was going to get, but I didn't exactly want a fucking head start.
I shook my head, grounding myself before I got too deep. Anger was the last thing that would help, and I needed to focus, as I was barely out of the danger zone yet. I just still couldn't get over the fact that that I felt so powerless, as if I could've died at any moment.
I thought I had more time, more preparation. But everything's gone from zero to one-hundred in a single night.
My breath slowed, in an effort to calm my nerves. And only then did I noticed I wasn't alone.
Seated beside me in a finely-carved wooden chair, legs crossed, arms rested on his lap, and a posture befitting his stature, was a man I had come to know far too well.
The Regent. But something was off, he seemed unusual.
The warm smirk he usually wore was gone and the playful charm, absent. Instead, his expression was calm, calculating and focused. A tired, yet astute sharpness was masked behind his eyes, as though he had been waiting a long time.
He didn't speak right away, he just stared at me, quietly as if testing me.
I did the same, and stared at him. We both stared for a moment, in complete silence.
This is... Awkward.
Finally, he stood up from his chair. His movements were precise, slow, almost ceremonial, as if he was still trying to keep up appearances.
"Good. You're awake," he said, simply.
His voice lacked its usual warmth. It wasn't cold - just... solemn, as if he had become a totally different person.
"I thought I might be here when your eyes opened. Thankfully, it seems I was right."
I sat up, my joints aching slightly from the movement, a small grunt of pain was released from my mouth.
"...Where am I?" I asked, my voice hoarse, parched for liquid.
"You're in my Noble residence, where I stay usually when I'm not performing my usual duties. Close to the center of the city, far from the common rabble." he said, as if that explained everything.
He looked out the window briefly, letting the light reflect across the silver lining of his shoulder insignia. He was wearing more casual clothing, though still befitting of a noble. The light also shone on a smoking pipe, which lay in the bed of an ashtray on the table he sat next to. It seemed he had been smoking a bit.
"You've been asleep since last night, Damian. The physicians said you suffered from acute Aetheris exposure. Not uncommon in divine encounters, but your case was... complicated."
I stayed quiet, letting him speak.
This doesn't sound very good.
"I've had a lot of time to think since then, and sleep has yet to claim me since last night. I've also had the pleasure of hearing quite a few... conflicting reports."
He stepped forward slightly, voice lowering. I could see his eyes now, which reflected a cold, calculating man.
"Let me speak plainly, Damian. You deserve that much at least."
I nodded, already guessing what he was going to say next.
"You've proven yourself competent. Incredibly competent. But more importantly... you're not like the others, especially ones your age. You think, you hesitate, you observe, I could see it from your eyes in the banquet hall. And you don't recite dogma like a choir boy with no soul, the church has yet to claim you."
He leaned against the corner of the bed frame, arms still behind his back. His gaze was somewhere else, almost as if he was thinking deeply
"You're not a puppet. And that's rare these days."
I narrowed my eyes slightly, still unsure of his agenda to telling me this.
Was I that obvious?
He continued.
"Something big is coming, and we have yet to know what exactly will happen, but this is certain. Secrets are coming to light - some of which could destroy this city's foundation if handled improperly. And I need someone who can operate in the dark. Someone sharp, someone loyal to the Empire."
He met my gaze. I started to feel nervous, as I could feel a cliche crawling up my skin. I gave a mental prayer, hoping the next words weren't what I thought.
"And someone I can trust to keep Her Highness alive."
There it was.
And it was even worse than what I had thought.
The answer is a resounding no.
He pushed himself up fully now, letting out a slow breath as if the weight of the conversation had been pressing into his chest.
"We'll speak more soon. Rest while you can. When I return, you'll have your questions answered. I just thought now would be the best time, to let you think over it."
He stepped away from the bed, pausing just before the door.
"And Damian - "
I glanced up again, tiredness in my eyes returning.
"Don't mistake the kindness I've shown you so far. The moment you become a threat to the Empire... I'll be the one to put you down."
He left without another word. And I was now alone again.
Except for the reflection in the glass of the window.
My face now reflected my face. I heaved a sigh of relief, thankful that I hadn't gone insane yet.
At least I'm mentally fine.
Glancing towards the window, the buildings the street over looked as beautiful as ever. I admired the details of the architecture through the gaps of the curtains.
For now.