The cold came first. It wasn't just a drop in temperature, but a visceral presence—a biting wind that seemed determined to find any weakness in the thick walls of the palace. It blew across the frozen gardens, carrying the brittle scent of imminent snow, and gave genuine chills that had nothing to do with the fading season.
And just like the relentless blow of the wind, there were whispers. They clung to the corners of the corridors, seeping through the heavy tapestry of court life, more pervasive and chilling than any weather.
"Hey, did you hear about the new Emperor?"
The voice was a nervous, barely audible rustle, coming from one of two maids making their rounds, a basket of freshly laundered linens balanced between them.
"Yes, and it gives me chills more than this winter wind," the second maid replied, her voice echoing the first's hint of dread.
"They say he killed his own two friends," the first maid confided, leaning in closer despite the empty stretch of hallway.
"Mmhmm… yes. They say he has gone crazy since then."
"But weren't his friends a—"
The first maid abruptly stopped speaking, her eyes fixed beyond her companion. A figure was walking past them, entirely oblivious to their conversation.
"Woah… a beauty?!" the second maid breathed out, mesmerized.
Hearing her sudden change in tone, the first maid followed her gaze. The man was striking—ethereal, almost. He possessed ocean blue eyes that seemed impossibly deep, and long white hair that flowed to his waist, tipped distinctively with purple color. His features were sharp, refined, and entirely captivating.
He was, of course, the Emperor. Soren.
Recognizing him, the first maid immediately took the arm of her companion and began to speed walk, almost running. "He is the Emperor," she managed to hiss out, her voice tight with fear and nervousness.
"What? Such a beauty is the crazy Emperor?!" The second maid's confusion and shock were evident in her loud whisper.
The first maid merely nodded once, pulling her along until they vanished around a corner.
Soren watched their retreat. The whispers had found their way even to the lowest servants.
So the rumors are spreading, huh?
He turned, walking to a vast arched window. It was true that they had been his friends. But I… The sight of his own reflection stared back at him, the pale, perfect features and the haunted, vivid blue eyes.
"Those ocean eyes don't have any spark, Your Highness."
A new voice, warm yet undeniably charming, caught his attention. Soren turned to see the speaker. The man was looking at him with a slight, knowing smile. He was handsome, possessing dark eyes that seemed to look right through the superficial beauty and into the Emperor's soul.
Soren shook his head slowly. "A spark, you say? I don't even have a heart. A little spark is nothing to me." His voice was cold, yet it held a soft, desolate quality.
The words hung in the silence. The man's heart ached at the declaration, and he was immediately curious as to why those cold words hurt him, as if they held a deep meaning he couldn't quite grasp. Yet, he made sure not a flicker of that pain registered on his face. He maintained the slight, composed smile, letting the depth of his dark eyes be the only thing that spoke of his concern for the Emperor.