Ashes of the Elite

I sink into the plush chair, the kind of comfort that almost makes you forget you're in enemy territory. The upholstery swallows me whole, cradling my body in velvet softness, and for a moment, I let it. The room is silent, save for the faint crackle of some unseen fire and the ever-present hum of distant footsteps echoing through marble halls. I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling, fingers twitching on the armrest.

Behind the mask, I'm unraveling. It's only been a few hours since I woke up from my coma and to much has happened already today. I'm trying to pretend what I did doesn't eat at me, trying to wear my current mask of indifference like armor. But it's a paper shield against something far deeper. The Fearmonger's whispers still claw at the edges of my mind, laughing, delighting in the slaughter. My powers twisted my reality, turned instinct into execution. I keep thinking what if next time I don't come back from it? Is this the extreme suffering damned voices meant when they gave me three marks of power?

I must have drifted off.

I wake with a sharp inhale, body tense before my mind catches up. There's a girl standing in front of me, frozen mid-step, her hand hovering awkwardly in the air, inches from my shoulder. Soft features. Big brown eyes. She jerks her hand back like I'd burned her and bows so fast her braid flops forward.

"S-sorry, Awakened Daath," she stammers. "I was sent by Awakened Kennet. You should follow me."

I blink the last of the haze away and sit up, stretching slowly, deliberately. My body still feels stiff, like it remembers more of that damn teleportation than I do. I flash her a lopsided smile just a flicker, just enough to be disarming and gesture toward the door.

"After you Miss."

She bows again, lower this time, and hurries toward the door, her simple white servant's gown fluttering around her legs. It's definitely shorter than it needs to be. Probably by design.

I follow, boots echoing softly behind her through corridor after corridor. The castle doesn't lose its weight no matter how long I spend in it every inch of the place meant to remind you just how small you are. Still, something about this feels off. We're going deeper into the castle, but the grandeur is fading with every turn. Less ornamentation. Simpler walls. No guards.

Finally, we stop in front of a small bedroom. Not lavish, not even particularly elegant. Just... a room. I raise a brow, confusion simmering under my calm.

The girl turns to me, her eyes wide and soft, her voice even softer. "His Majesty is tied up in some important matters," she says, almost apologetically. "But he felt bad about leaving such an honored guest alone... so I was sent to keep you company, my lord. My name is Estee."