Suddenly, Soren heard Asher's voice calling to him.
"Soren! Come!"
Soren turned sharply, his gaze sweeping the empty space behind him. But there was no one there. The corridor remained vacant, filled only with the cold draughts of the palace. Closing his eyes, he let out a slow breath, a familiar frustration tightening in his chest.
Why can't I forget about you?
He allowed himself only a few seconds in the quiet before opening his eyes, letting the mask slip back into place. Turning on his heel, he walked toward the grand entrance of the main hall.
Inside, the hall was deafening—a chaotic, irritating roar of arguments as politicians, dukes, and generals threw their weight around. But the moment Soren stepped across thethreshold, the noise died instantly. A pin-drop silence swept through the massive room.
As one, the crowd bowed their heads in a tense, uniform welcome as Soren walked the long path toward the crown seat. He moved quietly, the silence stretching until he reached the dais and took his place on the throne. Slowly, he raised a single hand.
"Rise," he commanded, his voice slicing through the cold air of the hall.
He settled his hands onto the carved armrests as. Soren watched them, his gaze entirely detached, as if he had grown perfectly numb to the weight of their eyes. He could see it all clearly: the burning hatred in some, the trembling fear in others. And then there were the few—the ones who knew the truths of his past—who held a fleeting hint of sadness and pity in their expressions. Soren remained unmoved. He was entirely used to this feeling.
It didn't take long for the illusion of respect to fracture. Within minutes, the bickering resumed. The politicians began quarreling with one another, raising their voices as if they were the ones holding the true power in the room. They debated and clashed without a glance toward the throne, utterly indifferent to the Emperor's opinion, acting as though he were nothing more than a ghost in his own court.
Suddenly, one of the top dukes of the empire stepped forward, cutting through the lesser arguments. His voice was loud, demanding attention.
"Shall we declare war, Your Highness?"
Soren shifted his cold gaze down to the duke. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath. Soren slowly opened his mouth to deliver his answer, but before a single word could leave his lips, a sharp, steady voice rang out from the back of the crowd.
"No."