Chapter 8: The Shattered Mirror
The velvet lid creaked open. In the hyper-tense silence, the sound was a trigger.
Killian moved. The jealousy simmering in his gut, fueled by the memory of Seraphine's execution, exploded into a lethal reflex. He saw the Priest's fingers twitch, saw a glint of metal, and his mind screamed Blade.
"Get back!" Killian roared.
His sword cleared the scabbard with a shriek of steel. With a brutal slash, he struck the box, intending to shatter the weapon within. Simultaneously, Alaric—his mask of kindness broken by the sight of men crowding Eveline—launched forward, his gauntleted hand seizing the High Priest's throat to pin him against the marble stairs.
The box did not contain an axe.
Under the force of Killian's strike, the velvet casing exploded. A shower of blood-red light filled the air as the Ruby of Astra—a legendary, tear-shaped gem—flew into the air, its gold chain luckily didn't snap. It hit the floor with a dull thud, rolling through the spilled wine.
The music stopped. The noblewomen screamed. The High Priest gasped for air under Alaric's grip, eyes wide with genuine shock.
The ballroom was filled with gasps and fear . The Emperor didn't call for the guards. He remained seated, watching the chaos with a look of calm, weary amusement. He looked at the ruby on the floor, then finally at Killian.
"Killian," the Emperor said, his voice quiet but carrying perfectly through the hall. The Commander froze, his sword still leveled at the Priest.
"I know you are interested in Lady Seraphina," the Emperor continued, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips. "I've seen how you've been watching the floor. But Killian... it doesn't mean you need to harm or glare at every man near her. Especially not a High Priest."
He gestured toward the rolling ruby.
"If you want to be the one to put the necklace on Lady Seraphina, you only needed to ask me. You don't need to try and take it by force."
The Emperor turned his gaze to the jewel, his expression shifting into something uncharacteristically soft.
"Do you know what that is, Seraphine? I have spent years searching the continent for that piece. It was the dowry your mother, Duchess Sarah, brought with her from the East. She lost it when the war broke out twenty years ago—stolen during the chaos of the border raids. I vowed to your father I would find it. I wanted you to wear your mother's legacy tonight."
Duke Astra stepped forward, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He looked at his daughter, and for a moment, he forgot about the embarrasing display his Daughter , Killian and Alaric did.
Seraphina stood there, the candlelight catching the deep velvet of her dress. She looked exactly like Sarah at that age—the same tilt of the head, the same regal posture. Only her eyes were different: a striking, deep emerald that she had inherited from her father.
"Seraphina," the Duke whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You are her image. To see that ruby on you... it is as if the war never happened."
Seraphina felt a cold, hollow pit form in her stomach. Looking at her father's genuine joy and the Emperor's melancholy smile, a terrifying thought began to take root. What if we are wrong? In the previous life, she had seen the letter. She had felt the cold stone of the cell. But in this life, every action the Emperor took was filled with a terrifying, gentle love. Was the "Not Now" letter a dream? A misunderstanding? Or was the Emperor so skilled a player that he could gift her mother's soul while planning to take hers?
She kept her face a mask of porcelain perfection, hiding the seed of doubt even from Killian. She was afraid to be wrong—because if the Emperor was truly evil, they were in a trap. But if he was truly good... then she and her companions were the monsters.
"He's gaslighting the entire Empire," Killian hissed so low only she could hear.
Seraphina didn't answer. She just looked into the Emperor's eyes, her emerald gaze searching for the shadow of a killer behind the smile of a friend