Chapter 2 – Shadows of the House
The corridors of Themis Manor were built to dwarf men. Tall black pillars stretched like frozen giants along the hallways, and tapestries depicting trials, executions, and oaths of judgment lined the walls. Where most noble houses displayed hunts, battles, or saints, the Themis chose silence and law.
To Valen, walking these halls now felt like being pressed under an invisible weight.
The servants bowed low as he passed, but not one dared meet his gaze. The fear wasn't new; he could feel it woven into the stones themselves. For centuries, the Themis had been more than rulers they had been enforcers, executioners of imperial decrees, guardians of a justice that was as cold as it was absolute.
That heritage lingered, even after their kingdom had been reduced to a duchy.
"Master Valen." A butler, his hair white with age, bowed at the base of the stair. "The Duke requests your presence in the study."
Valen's pulse stumbled. He knew this scene or rather, the villain had lived it countless times. His Earth self carried no such memories, yet dread still crawled up his spine as if his body recalled things he did not.
The study doors loomed ahead, carved from dark oak, etched with the crest of Themis: a silver dragon coiled around a pair of balanced scales.
The butler pushed the doors open.
Inside sat Duke Alaric Themis, his father in this life. The man was not yet old, but the lines on his face were carved deep from the weight of authority. His hair was black streaked with silver, his eyes sharp as winter steel. He did not look up from the papers on his desk until Valen stepped forward.
"You've returned from the Academy break," Alaric said, voice even. Not welcoming, not cold. Simply factual. "I trust your studies continue without incident."
Valen bowed slightly. "Yes, Father."
The word tasted strange.
The Duke's gaze lifted, and for a moment Valen thought he saw calculation, as though the man measured not his answer, but the very steadiness of his breath. Then Alaric gestured to the side.
The Duchess Elara Themis sat there, poised with a book closed delicately in her lap. She was pale, her features ethereal, her long white hair shimmering like snow beneath candlelight. Unlike the Duke's steel, she radiated something softer yet no less commanding. Her eyes, amethyst like Valen's, watched him with a kind of stillness that unsettled him more than his father's scrutiny.
"You've grown taller," she said finally, voice calm, melodic. "But you seem… different."
Valen's chest tightened. Did she sense it? Could she? He forced a polite smile. "Perhaps the Academy has changed me."
Her lips curved faintly, though not in warmth. "Perhaps."
Silence stretched. Only the ticking of the clock filled the chamber.
Finally, the Duke set his quill down. "You'll dine with us tonight. It's been too long since we've had a meal together."
The dining hall was vast, its ceiling painted with constellations long faded. A table stretched the length of the chamber, though only three seats at its head were ever filled. Platters of roasted pheasant, buttered root vegetables, and dark wine were laid in silence by servants who moved like shadows themselves.
Valen sat across from his parents.
The Duke ate methodically, without waste. The Duchess touched her food delicately, almost as though etiquette were armor. Neither spoke for long minutes, and Valen found himself staring at the flickering candle flames, at the shadows that danced along the walls like watchful eyes.
His Earth memories screamed at the strangeness of this silence. Meals, once noisy and filled with chatter, now felt like trials.
"How fare your peers?" the Duke asked eventually, breaking the quiet.
Valen cleared his throat. "Some are skilled. Others… ambitious."
"Ambition without discipline rots into arrogance," Alaric replied. "Remember that."
The words cut sharper than they should have. Was that fatherly guidance or warning?
Elara set down her glass, her amethyst eyes resting on Valen. "You'll return soon, won't you? For your final year?"
"Yes, Mother."
The word felt even stranger than "Father." Softer, but heavier.
She inclined her head, expression unreadable. "Then see that you make it count."
When the meal ended, Valen walked alone through the moonlit gardens of the estate. The stars above shimmered faintly, half-hidden behind drifting clouds. He could feel the history of this place pressing down on him the grandeur, the expectation, the cold shadow of a legacy he hadn't asked for.
Once, Themis had been a kingdom. Once, these halls had rung with the voices of sovereigns. Now they bowed to an Emperor far away, their greatness shackled by conquest.
And he, Valen, bore the weight of that ruin.
He gripped the railing of the stone balcony, the shadows around him whispering faintly as if alive.
He wasn't the villain. Not yet. But standing here, in the heart of this house of silence, he could understand how someone might become one.