The smell of ozone and rotting flesh lingers in the air of the palace corridors—a perfume I find far more honest than the cloying rosewater the noblewomen drench themselves in. I stand in the shadows of the arched hallway, watching the chaos unfold with the practiced stillness of a predator.
These people... these tiny, flickering candles of humanity. They have no idea who I am.
They look at me and see "Commander Dion," the silent protector, the loyal blade of the crown. They see a man who speaks little and serves much. They are fools. I am the one who has been wandering through the grey wastes of time for centuries, a ghost in the machinery of history, waiting for a single pulse to thrum again.
I have been waiting for her.
My dear Roxana.
You think those flashes of darkness, those sudden bursts of white-hot memory, are merely the side effects of your "awakening"? You think your mind is finally healing itself? No. I am the reach in the dark. I am the one whispering into your subconscious, peeling back the layers of your amnesia with a jagged blade.
I am feeding you those memories of our past struggle because I want you to feel the weight of our shared history. I want you to remember the way your light felt as I tried to snuff it out.
I want you to remember the moment I broke your spirit before you died the first time.
Slowly, my love. I am making it happen for you, drip by agonizing drip, so that when I finally reveal my true face, your heart will stop from the sheer recognition of your greatest nightmare.
The plan is moving with exquisite precision. It was a stroke of genius, hiding my true nature beneath the skin of a nobleman's servant.
I have watched the Ellington family for generations, nudging them, poisoning their bloodlines with subtle influences, waiting for the perfect vessel to be born. I watched the Duke's grief, I watched Isabella's petty jealousy, and I watched the Prince's descent into madness. All of it was fuel for my fire.
And now, Plan B has commenced.
The nobility—those arrogant, preening peacocks—actually worship me. They see my "efficiency" and my "strength" and they whisper that I am the only one who can keep the "Psycho Prince" in check. They don't realize that every undead soldier currently tearing through the palace guards is a puppet on my string. I am the conductor of this symphony of screams.
The attack on the King is a necessary theater. That old man is a relic of a boring age. He must be removed to clear the path. I will place the crown upon Richt's head myself if I have to. Why? Because a King needs a Queen. And once you are seated on that throne, Roxana—once you are Pati, the Queen of Khazaria—you will be exactly where I need you.
High enough for everyone to see. High enough for the fall to be spectacular.
I will not kill you quickly this time. That was my mistake in the ancient days. I was too eager to win, too hurried to extinguish your light. This time, I will fight with you slowly. I will let you think you are winning. I will let you believe your "Priestess" powers are enough to save this wretched kingdom. And then, when you are at your most hopeful, I will begin the harvest.
I will isolate you. I will whisper in the Prince's ear until his obsession turns into a cage you cannot escape. I will turn your father and your brother into weapons against you. I will watch as your soul begins to mold into mine, twisted by the realization that everyone you love is a pawn I have already taken.
I will take you away from these worthless people—these insects who think they can claim a piece of the Divine Priestess. You do not belong to the Duke. You do not belong to the Ellington name. And you certainly do not belong to that mad Prince.
You are mine. You have always been mine. We are two sides of the same ancient coin, locked in a dance that only ends when I have finally consumed every spark of Roxana and left only the hollow shell of Pati behind.
I adjust the hilt of my sword, a cold smile touching my lips as I hear a scream from the King's quarters. The era of the Old King is ending. The era of my Queen is about to begin. And I shall be the shadow that never leaves her side, the "loyal" commander who ensures that her reign is a beautiful, blood-soaked nightmare.
I begin to walk toward the First Prince's chambers. It's time to play the part of the "worried protector" and check on my lady.
After all, a predator must stay close to its prey.