The Madness of Silver
The sun dipped low over the hills of Forantli, casting golden light across rolling fields that stretched endlessly to the horizon. Wildflowers bent in the breeze, their colors a fleeting blur as a noble family's carriage rolled along the dirt path.
Inside, silence pressed down like a heavy curtain.
Robert, broad-shouldered and severe, sat stiffly in his dark formal attire. His stern eyes and perfectly trimmed beard made him look as though carved from stone. Beside him, Elsa—a woman of sharp beauty, her blonde hair gleaming like glass—stared coldly out the window. Between them sat their son, Silver.
The boy's brown hair caught the fading sunlight, but his expression was empty. His glassy brown eyes never lifted from the floor. He looked anywhere but at his parents. No one spoke. No one dared.
The carriage jolted to a halt.
A knight opened the door, bowing stiffly. His voice carried duty, but beneath it, a thin thread of contempt.
"My lord, the wheel is broken. We'll need more time to repair it properly."
Robert scowled.
"Then fix it faster. Are you so incompetent you can't check a wheel before we leave? Must I do your job for you?"
The knight's jaw tightened. In his mind, words thundered—I am a knight, not a cart driver—but he swallowed them, knowing well what became of those who defied Lord Robert or Lady Elsa. Even young Silver was not spared their wrath.
And yet, the thought burned: What happened to this family… to twist them into madness these past years?
"My apologies, Lord Robert," another knight cut in quickly, trying to defuse the tension before his comrade's anger slipped through.
Silver's soft voice broke the silence.
"I'll go for a walk."
Elsa's cold eyes flicked toward him. Her words lashed like a whip.
"Don't talk to commoners."
She spoke not like a mother, but like a mistress to a servant.
Silver gave no reply. He stepped out, letting the wind toy with his hair as he walked among the wildflowers. The open air smelled of freedom—freedom his home had never given him.
From a distance, Ignil—Robert's most trusted knight—watched. His silver hair glinted like moonlight beneath the blue armor and cloak he wore. His sharp eyes narrowed, heavy with suspicion.
"This family… cursed with madness," Ignil murmured. "But that boy… the boy is the madness."
Silver felt the gaze. He turned faintly, lips curving in a fragile smile. He's watching again. I must move faster. This world is broken… and I'll be the one to fix it.
Memories stirred: his father's whip, his mother's endless scorn, the servants' forced smiles and simmering envy, nobles' arrogance, and the suffocating silence of their house. All of it—it made his skin crawl.
Ignil's mind flicked to a memory of the palace not long ago.
Silver had once wandered into the palace yard, where the children of lesser nobles played. Laughter rang through white marble walls, chasing through the blooming hedges. Some wore embroidered tunics, now grass-stained and dusty from play. A curly-haired girl swung a stick like a sword, while two younger boys argued about their duel. Others whispered secrets under a cherry tree, giggling as petals drifted down.
Then came the crack of arrogance.
A boy stepped forward, golden hair neat, golden eyes sharp with entitlement. An expensive magical necklace pulsed faintly at his throat. His pristine clothes were untouched by dirt. He sneered.
"My father outranks yours. You're nothing but lowborn trash."
The children's laughter faltered.
Silver tilted his head. His face—so young, yet so chillingly blank—betrayed nothing.
"They're not happy," he whispered, his tone soft… eerie. "But I can fix them. I can make them pure again. Strip away the lies that poisoned them. Return them to what they once were."
Shadows clung to his feet as he stepped forward. His smile warped.
"Madness. That's true freedom. That's the world's purest nature. The forest thrives in it. Humanity strayed… I will return them."
The grin that spread across his lips no longer looked human.
His aura spilled forth.
The children's eyes glazed. Then—chaos.
Screams tore the air. Little hands clawed and bit. They rolled in the dirt, kicking, snarling like beasts. Parents rushed forward in horror, maids shrieking as even they began tearing at each other.
Silver stood calmly, smiling as if beholding a masterpiece.
"This… is freedom."
Up in a tree, Ignil had witnessed it all. His heart sank.
"What did I just see? He's only a boy… and yet…"
His own words echoed back, hollow now. He's just a child. His parents made him this way.
That night, the family returned to their grand manor, its towers looming like silent watchers. The servants bowed low at the gates.
"Go to your room. No dinner tonight," Robert snapped. "Do you understand?"
Silver only watched him go, thoughts swirling. This is the night. The spell weakens. I delayed too long… but no more. The high knights are gone. Ignil is leaving, too. It should have happened three months ago. The meeting's delay bought them time… but now it ends.
From his window, Silver watched Ignil ride away. Then he pulled out a black pouch of crushed, energy-laden flowers—sand that reeked of unnatural power. He scattered it through the halls. Its smell crept like poison, seeping into every room.
Servants coughed. Fights erupted over spilled tea, over silverware.
"You always thought you were better than me!" one maid screamed.
Another ripped her hair, eyes blood-red. "I never liked you! I never liked anyone!"
Knights outside clashed blindly, blades ringing in pointless fury. Madness boiled through every corridor.
Silver walked the chaos with serenity, smiling.
A maid stumbled near him—green-eyed, dark-haired Emily.
"You wanted revenge on my mother, didn't you?" Silver asked softly.
Emily trembled. "She… humiliated me for years…"
Silver threw sand into her face.
Her eyes turned crimson. Her voice, low and guttural, growled:
"Elsa… I remember you now. You made me crawl for forgetting a napkin."
"Then take your freedom," Silver whispered, guiding her up the stairs.
Screams echoed. At the top stood Robert and Elsa, frozen as madness swirled below.
"Silver, my son…" Elsa's voice quaked.
"It's too late," Silver said. "The spell has ended. You've returned to your senses."
Emily lunged.
Elsa shrieked as her face was seized, Emily laughing like a banshee.
"Do you remember me now, my lady? This is it! This is my freedom!"
Robert charged. "Get hold of yourself!"
But Silver struck him—leg, then jaw. Robert collapsed, stunned.
"My son… what… have you…"
Silver leaned close, calm and cruel.
"This is freedom, Father. Happiness. Equality. The world reborn."
He laughed, high and piercing, as black fire erupted along the walls. Madness consumed the manor—servants screaming, portraits shattering, flames crawling hungrily.
Robert, blood dripping, whispered through tears:
"What have I raised? I gave life… to a monster."
He reached for his sword. "I must… correct my mistake…"
But the fire drowned his words. Silver's voice thundered through the smoke:
"They are free now."
Outside, Ignil halted his horse. The air was heavy, wrong.
"We return," he said sharply. "The meeting can wait."
Beside him, Caty—silver-haired, her cloak swirling like a storm—narrowed her feline eyes.
"This is madness. Something unnatural festers in that house."
Jink, blue hair whipping in the wind, turned quickly. "What do you see?"
Caty's voice was steady, grave.
"What we feared. What we ignored."
Hans, massive and bearded, tightened his grip on his axe. "Say it plain, woman."
Ignil's voice wavered. "He's just a child. His parents made him this way."
Caty's gaze cut like a blade.
"That's what you tell yourself… right before you face the monster. Ignil—he is not a child. And you know it.