2025-02-26 21:29:14Eleven years ago.
"Helio, do you want a sibling?" I don’t turn to her. More accurately, I refuse to. I’m still upset that she didn’t come to my room last night to read me bedtime stories. She never believes me when I tell her how many times Demario and Zenthio sneak in, tormenting me with ghost stories. "Helio..." "Why would I want a sibling, Mother?" I snap. "Am I not enough of a punching bag for Zenthio and Demario?" She sighs. "But aren’t you close with Lavinia?" "Of course. But Lavinia is only my half-sister." "So you still don’t want a sibling?" "Give me one good reason why I should," I demand. "Aren’t you afraid they might be born blind like me?" She lets out a soft laugh. It infuriates me so much that I reach for my white cane and push myself up. I want to leave my room, though I have no idea where to go. I just don’t want to run into Zenthio or Demario and face whatever torment they have planned for me today. My fingers find the door handle when she speaks again. "I’m not afraid, Helio. Your birth was a blessing to me. And because of that, I want you to feel the same when you have a sibling one day." I huff, already tired of this conversation about a future that hasn’t happened yet. "I don’t know. We’ll see." ⚔️ It feels like just yesterday when I heard Actavio cry for the first time. Cold, unfamiliar with the world. Now, he cries for the same reason—tasting the cruelty Zenthio has crafted for me. "Let him go, Zenthio," I growl. "You know this isn’t fair." Zenthio laughs, light and amused. "And what is fair, Helio?" he counters. "Everything about you—your very existence in my home—is unfair. You took everything from me. Every. Single. Thing. And now, I’ll take it back—all that should have been mine." I should have known. When I agreed to fulfill Father’s last wish, I should have known this would happen. I should have known Actavio would be Zenthio’s next target. "Ah, taking your time thinking, Helio?" Zenthio mocks. "Demario." The moment his name is spoken, Actavio screams in terror. "Please, don’t hurt me!" he sobs. "Helio, help me! They killed Mother! I can’t take it anymore! I want to go home! Please—" My fists clench, shaking with the rage boiling inside me. "What did you do to my mother, Zenthio?" My voice shakes, thunders. Actavio sobs again. "She and my little brother have nothing to do with this. Why did you involve them?" "Look at you," Zenthio chuckles. "Father’s faith in you has really gone to your head, hasn’t it?" "Enough, Zenthio. What do you want from me?" My voice is a whisper, exhausted. "Oh, come on. What could you possibly give me now, Helio? You have nothing left. Nothing but that useless life of yours." I try moving my hands, feeling the ropes biting into my wrists. But then—I still feel it. Father’s Marquess ring, snug around my middle finger. I swallow hard. This ring is sacred, bound by ancient magic. It refuses to leave its owner unless the owner wills it. Just as it once chose me. "So," Zenthio hums. "Are you ready to trade, Helio?" I want to shake my head. I don’t want to disappoint Father. His request was simple: protect our family in his absence. But I have failed. I have led my mother and my little brother straight into danger. "Come on, Helio," Demario coaxes. "You know something just as valuable as your little brother, don’t you?" I lower my head. There was a time when I didn’t want Actavio to be born. But now... I can’t imagine a world without him. My life has split into two: before and after Actavio. If he dies... I clear my throat. "Take my ring, Zenthio," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I know you want this more than your own family’s lives." Zenthio doesn’t answer immediately. I can’t see his face, but I hope—just for a second—that he feels even the slightest shame for what he’s done to us. I don’t want to part with my father’s ring. It’s the only thing of his I still have. But I let it slip from my finger, dropping it onto the dirt. I hear the faint clang of Zenthio’s sword as he picks it up. Then, his laughter. "Seriously, Helio," he muses. "I’ve always wondered why Father favored you. He called you brilliant. A strategist. But something like this? You never even saw it coming—" The sound comes suddenly. A sharp whistle of air. A sword swinging. Something light hitting the ground. Zenthio laughs again. "I said I wanted to trade for your little brother, Helio. But I never said I’d trade him alive, did I?" I wait for the rage to explode inside me, like a long-dormant volcano finally ready to erupt. But I feel nothing. Nothing but an overwhelming, crushing sorrow. Actavio... Mother... Our father... Maybe, from the very beginning, Zenthio was right. I was never going to win against him. Because I always saw him as part of my family. Someone I believed would never be this cruel. But I was wrong. And the price is unbearable. "Zenthio," I cut through his laughter. Something inside me shifts. My anger no longer burns—it takes form, fusing with my dark, sightless world. I feel it stirring the wind, rustling the leaves, making the roots tremble beneath the earth. It moves with my emotions. "I gave you seventeen years to be my brother, Zenthio," I say, my voice steady. "But now I realize—we were never part of the same family. You drowned yourself in the delusion that Father hated you. And I... I let myself believe that no matter how cruel you were to me, we still shared the same father." I smile. There is no joy left in it. No peace. "BUT NOW THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF HIM. AND I HAVE NO REASON TO CALL YOU BROTHER ANYMORE." The illusion’s power seeps into my skin, twisting its way into my chest. It craves destruction. It wants to consume everything in its path—every last one of my betrayers. I should control it. I know I should. But just like Zenthio... I surrender to my hatred. I want to burn this world down.
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034 | Between Pain and Memory (Julian)
Pain does not leave me. It clings to my skin, presses against my ribs, curls around my wrists like unseen chains. My body is sore, my limbs weak, every breath a slow, dragging effort. The damp forest floor is cold beneath me, but my fever makes everything feel unbearably warm, as if I am burning from the inside out.I do not know how long I have been here. Long enough for the world to blur. Long enough for my mind to slip between the present and the past. And in that haze of exhaustion, of pain, of near delirium, I remember the city. The City That Had Nothing LeftI remember standing in the streets of my home and realizing it was no longer mine. The city had been drained.The marketplace that once thrived with merchants and traders was now filled with empty stalls and sunken-eyed vendors. Goods that had once been within reach—fine fabrics, fresh produce, spiced tea—were now luxuries only the wealthiest could afford. The people were struggling.I had seen fathers counting their last co
033 | Secrets Beneath the City (Helio)
The underground market is a place that should not exist—at least, not in the eyes of the nobility. It thrives beneath the heart of the city, hidden beneath layers of cobbled streets and forgotten tunnels. To those who live above, it is merely a rumor, a whispered secret passed between cautious lips.But to those who know how to find it, it is something else entirely.A refuge. A kingdom of its own. A place where laws bend and reality shifts, where magic is not bound by the careful rules of scholars and noble bloodlines.The entrance is unremarkable—an old iron grate set into a quiet alleyway, half-buried in debris. To the unknowing, it looks like nothing more than a forgotten drainage system, long abandoned. But beneath it, a staircase carves into the earth, leading to something far older than the city above.I step forward first, feeling the shift in the air the moment my boot touches the stone. Hale follows closely, muttering under his breath about the smell—a mixture of damp earth,
032 | Flicker of Hope (Helio)
The tension in my hands lingers long after we leave Zenthio’s office.My steps are steady, my posture composed, but something raw lingers beneath my skin. The weight of his words—he’s probably dead—still coils in my chest, threatening to drag my mind into a place I do not wish to go.But I cannot afford to lose focus. Not now.Hale walks beside me, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, his usual sharp remarks absent. Rhea follows a step behind, silent, her face hidden beneath the loose strands of her dark hair. She has not spoken since we left the office.The estate is quieter than I remember. Too quiet. The servants keep their heads down as we pass, their eyes avoiding mine, their footsteps hurried as if they fear they will be punished simply for being seen. The walls, though untouched in their grandeur, feel emptier. The great tapestries still hang in the corridors, the chandeliers still cast their golden light upon the marble floors, but there is no warmth. No life.We pass the h
031 | Homecoming as a Foe (Helio)
The gates of the Marquess’s estate stand before me, just as they always have—imposing, grand, and heavy with the weight of a legacy I once called my own. The wrought iron, polished to a merciless shine, gleams under the midday sun, its intricate patterns curling like the veins of an old tree.I have walked through these gates before. I was raised behind them. Yet today, as I step forward with Hale and Rhea at my side, I am a guest in my own home.The knights stationed at the entrance stand rigid, their polished armor reflecting the light like mirrors of steel. They recognize me instantly—of course, they do—but their hands tighten around their weapons, unsure of what to do with their knowledge.The hesitation is thick in the air.Once, they would have bowed without question. Once, they would have greeted me as a son of the house Alessio, not as an outsider. But times have changed. And so have I.I hear their whispers before I even pass the threshold."The blind heir has returned.""The
030 | A Rotting Soul (Nyx)
I exist in many places at once.The city whispers my name in the dark, a flickering shadow slipping through the cracks of locked doors, lingering in the hush of frightened voices. In alleyways, men speak of me in cautious tones. In grand halls, nobles glance over their shoulders, wondering if I am watching.Children, huddled beneath their blankets, hear stories of the man who walks between worlds, the specter who listens even when no one is watching. They say I can be anywhere. That I am everywhere.And they are not wrong. I walk the halls of Lavinia’s mansion, where illusions weave themselves into reality like a second skin.I stand in Zenthio’s mansion, where cruelty is currency, and the weak are devoured whole.And now, I am here. The Queen’s palace.The morning light filters through the stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors across the polished marble floor. The scent of spiced tea and warm pastries lingers in the air, mingling with the sharp ink of freshly opened letters
029 | Ashes and Fear (Helio)
The aroma of tea drifts through the small dining room, weaving into the morning air like a gentle promise of warmth. The scent of toasted bread lingers beneath it, rich with butter, mingling with the faint traces of honey and herbs. The wooden table, though plain and slightly uneven, is covered with simple ceramic dishes, a teapot at its center, steam curling lazily from its spout.It is a humble meal. But there is something oddly grounding about it.I lift my teacup, feeling the comforting warmth seep into my fingertips as I take a slow sip. The bitter taste is softened by honey, smooth and lingering on my tongue. I exhale, setting the cup down with a quiet clink against the wooden surface.Across from me, Hale is already halfway through his second sandwich, chewing with little care for propriety. His younger sister, Ellemira, watches him with a mix of amusement and disapproval, her own hands wrapped delicately around a cup of tea that looks too large for her small fingers.Rhea, how
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