Ascension Of The Villain

Vyan's heart sank into a pit of confusion and anxiety. He followed Aster's gaze to an empty corner of the room where there was a set of couches and a tea table. "Where?" he whispered, dread creeping up his spine.

"There," Aster said, his voice full of a childish certainty. "My little brother is sitting right there, eating chocolate cake. You see, it's his favorite."

Vyan's heart twisted painfully as he realized the truth—Aster wasn't seeing him. He was seeing a phantom, a ghost of the past that existed only in his fractured mind. "Oh, I see. What about... Mother and Father?" Vyan asked, his voice barely more than a breath.

Aster's smile was hollow, a thin crescent of madness. "Right about now, Mother must be looking for us to have lunch, but Vee is too busy with his cake to care. We are so going to get scolded, I just know it. And Father… he has gone to the capital for business. He will be back in a couple of days."

The words shattered something deep within Vyan.

Tears spilled down his cheeks, burning hot trails as they fell. He buried his face in the mattress, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs.

Aster wasn't just lost—he was trapped in a time where everything was still beautiful, where their family was whole, where the world hadn't yet betrayed them.

How could he tell Aster that their mother's voice would never echo through the halls again? That their father's return was an eternal waiting game? That he was alone in this vast, unforgiving world, save for a broken brother who didn't know how to bring him back?

But maybe, in some corner of his mind, Aster already knew all of that. And it was that cruel knowledge that had broken him into the fragile, splintered soul he was now.

As Vyan wept by the bedside, Aster's hollow gaze stayed fixed on the empty space, where he could still see his little brother, happy and whole, lost in the sweetness of a distant memory. It was as if the real and the unreal coexisted in that dim room

———

"So, what do you think, Harvey?" Vyan asked, appearing before the doctor the moment he stepped out of the room. His face was a canvas of strained eagerness and deep concern, which belied the whirlwind of desperation underneath. "Can you treat him?"

Harvey's smile was tight, more a grimace than an expression of confidence. "Your Grace, mental health... it isn't really my field of expertise. And, well, Lord Aster is... quite far gone, to put it mildly. In cases like this, I would suggest consulting a shaman."

"A shaman?" Vyan echoed, his voice cutting like a blade through the empty corridor. He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. "What, is a shaman going to chant and dance until the imaginary evil spirit decides it's bored of Aster?"

Harvey's face flushed. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that! I know you think shamans are... superstitious. But they have been known to help in certain cases—"

"Right, because chanting and incense are exactly what a mental patient needs," Vyan interrupted, his words dripping with sarcasm. "My brother isn't possessed by some malevolent entity, Harvey," he clarified. "He is…" His tongue failed him as his gaze hovered around helplessly. "Mentally shattered."

"Okay, um," Harvey stammered, "how about a priest?"

Vyan's eyes narrowed to slits, and he took a deep, weary breath. "And what is a priest going to do? Pray Aster's sanity back into place?"

"Your Grace, priests can provide comfort, help calm the mind—"

Vyan raised a hand, cutting him off. "You know what, Harvey? I expected better from you. Especially because you studied medicine from Redsance Kingdom. But if you don't see where the issue lies, then I am afraid I will have to find a way to help Aster myself."

Harvey's mouth opened, then closed, the uncertainty etched on his face like an uncomfortable mask. "I—well, Your Grace, you must understand, mental illnesses aren't... exactly taken seriously in our society. Most families would rather abandon someone in Lord Aster's condition—"

The sudden, fierce glare Vyan shot him was enough to make Harvey falter and change the flow of his words, "Of course, I don't mean you would do that, but... most people do. That's why I don't have much experience in handling such patients. Still," he quickly added, his tone shifting to a forced reassurance, "I will try my best.

Perhaps some herbal remedies, calming potions—something to help Lord Aster."

Vyan didn't respond. His eyes, hollow with a depth of frustration and helplessness, drifted past Harvey to the narrow gap of the double doors. Through the sliver, he saw Aster—curled up by the headboard, lost to whatever dark abyss had swallowed him whole.

"For now," Harvey continued hesitantly, "I would suggest treating Lord Aster gently. Avoid any... harsh attempts at reality. They don't respond well to it."

Vyan gave a faint nod, his gaze fixed on his brother's still form.

"So, I guess, since there isn't much you can do right now, it's just a matter of being patient—"

"Books," Vyan murmured, his voice distant, yet insistent. "Are there any books on cases like his? Anything that could actually help?"

———

The air still smelled of smoke and charred stone as Iyana stepped over the broken marble tiles. Her eyes swept across the wreckage left behind by the explosion.

The throne room of the imperial palace was now a scene of chaos—pillars cracked and crumbled, curtains reduced to ash, and the once-grand throne now a scorched ruin. Dust swirled in the muted sunlight filtering through shattered windows.

Iyana could feel her team's presence behind her—Elijah was examining the perimeter with his usual sharp focus, while Terrence knelt amidst the debris with a furrowed brow. Melissa hovered near Iyana, a look of disbelief on her face.

Terrence squinted as he scanned the shambled throne. "Seems like the worst of the damage is around here," he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "If I had to guess, I would say the explosives were set near or under the throne—or perhaps, maybe behind these curtains." He gestured to the blackened remnants hanging off the upper wall.

"Yes, I think the same," Elijah agreed. "The explosion scale wasn't too big, but it was definitely powerful. It was most likely only meant to kill the emperor."

"If the scale was small, it suggests that the perpetrator's alliance was present within the room. Or at least someone close to them, whom they can't afford to hurt," Iyana suggested.

"Then, that puts everyone present in the court under the suspicion radar," Elijah said.

"And the people they are affiliated with," Terrence chimed in and stood up, dusting off his uniform. "Oh, and I have to admit, I am impressed by the courage of this perpetrator. I mean, he attempted to assassinate His Majesty right in his palace, in fact, right on the throne." He shook his head, amusement etched on his face. "What an audacity, man."

"Hey, shush," Elijah hissed in warning. "Your head would be off your shoulders in the blink of an eye if someone heard you."

Terrence only chuckled in response, totally intrigued by the crime scene and criminal.

While the three of them matched theories, Melissa's eyes were stuck on the white chalk outlining two bodies on the space behind the throne. "I wonder what Sir Raith was doing behind the curtains when the explosion went off," she murmured.

"You find that weird too, don't you?" Terrence joined in. "I did too."

"Hey, Sir Wyatt already said that it's Sir Raith's duty to always guard the rear. That's why he was there," Elijah interrupted.

"Which brings us to the question," Iyana spoke up, her mind churning with questions underneath her calm exterior, "who does the second body belong to?"

"Vice-Commander, you don't believe it's a palace guard?" Elijah asked as that's what Wyatt told them.

"Isn't it strange, though? Why would Sir Raith be accompanied by an ordinary guard?" Iyana questioned.

Her question hung in the air for a moment, heavy with unsaid thoughts.

"Um, Vice-Commander, not to be that person," Elijah interjected, a little sheepish and hesitant, "but you are the one who taught us to not question the imperials. You always told us that the farther we stay from that can of worms, the better it is for us. Uncovering what they hide is… none of our business."

Iyana let those words sink in, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth. Eventually, she let out a wistful sigh, saying, "You are right." She started to move toward a large gap in the wall that led into a slope towards the narrow, darkened tunnel. "Uncovering the imperials' secrets isn't our job. It's to protect them and the people of our empire.

So, right now, our task is to find the people behind this assassination attempt."

She could hear Terrence's footsteps following behind her, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Off-topic, but I never knew this sort of tunnel existed on the imperial grounds," he remarked.

Elijah, who had been trailing close behind, spoke up in his usual no-nonsense tone. "I knew," he stated plainly.

Iyana nodded, not bothering to look back. "I knew too," she said, her voice steady.

"Wait, did everyone know about it except me?" Terrence let out, feeling scandalized.

"Pretty much," Iyana responded in a flat tone. "But none of us ever had access—or any need to use it." The tunnels were reserved for emergencies or hidden agendas, and she had never had a reason to explore them. Until now.

They continued down the path, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the damp stone. The deeper they went, more signs of destruction became apparent—chunks of debris littered the ground, walls scorched with blackened marks.

It must be the spot where Wyatt had described almost 'nabbing' the perpetrator. The tunnel had been blocked off, but then, Wyatt sliced through the rubble to make space to pass through. But still, it was too late to catch the perpetrator.

"Where could the intruder have run off to, to outrun Wyatt?" Iyana wondered aloud, her eyes narrowing in thought. She crouched, her gloved fingers brushing over the rough edges of the stone.

Iyana stood up and followed ahead. Her instincts guided her to two branching paths, but she abided her instinct and went down the one leading towards the Crystal Palace.

As she walked forward, her eyes caught a small turn leading towards an ascending staircase. At the top of the stairs, she found a square steel door. It must lead to the entrance to the Crystal Palace's basement.

She studied the door for a moment, her eyes narrowing. The handle... It's not covered in dust.

For a door that should have been untouched for decades, it was surprisingly clean. Iyana's heart quickened, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind.

The Crystal Palace... she thought, her mind connecting the dots swiftly. Empress Celeste's residence... Empress Celeste, who is Vyan's aunt...

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, her breath caught in her throat.

Was it Vyan who caused the explosion?