The carriage lurched to a halt before the palace entrance, the iron-rimmed wheels grinding against the gravel. Mathias dismounted first, but the usual effortless grace was gone. His movements were mechanical, labored, as if he were hauling an invisible carcass upon his shoulders. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

​Olivia followed, adjusting her silk gloves with a chilling composure. She reached out and took his arm, her grip tightening with a deceptive softness, seeking the familiar anchor of his strength. But the moment they stepped into the Grand Hall, she felt it—a faint, rhythmic tremor rippling through his frame. His breath came in ragged, heavy heaves, as though he were choking on a scent no one else could smell.

​"Mathias?" she whispered, drawing to a halt. In the flickering amber glow of the candelabras, his face looked deathly pale. "Your breathing... are you alright?"

​He didn’t look at her. His gaze remained anchored to a hollow point on the floor. "I’m fine, Olivia. Just exhaustion."

​Then, with a movement that was quiet yet devastatingly final, he reached up and pried her hand from his arm. It wasn’t just the removal of a touch; it was a declaration of a new, vast distance—one born in that blood-slicked room they had just left behind.

​"Go to your chambers and rest," he said, his voice flat, stripped of all warmth. "I’ve remembered something... a loose end I must attend to."

​Olivia stood frozen, watching his back as he retreated toward the West Wing with urgent, hollow strides. He didn’t look back. Not once. A sudden chill seeped into her bones, sharper than the night air. This victory was supposed to be the crowning jewel of her life, yet here she stood, draped in silk and triumph, utterly alone in the dark.

Was he fleeing the palace, or was he fleeing her?

​Olivia gathered the hem of her gown and climbed the stairs with leaden steps. For the first time, she felt it—the aftertaste of revenge. Despite its sweetness, it left a lingering, indelible bitterness in its wake.

​She shut her door with a finality that felt like sealing herself away from the world. She didn’t even bother shedding the dress, though it was heavy with the filth of the night’s memories. Instead, she collapsed onto the bed, letting her body sink into silk that suddenly felt abrasive against her skin.

​The high ceiling seemed to descend, pressing the air out of her lungs. Mathias’s final look haunted her, sharp and cold as shards of ice.

​Did I push him too far tonight? she wondered, turning her palms over before her eyes, searching for ghost-stains of the blood she had labored over. Why was he no longer the man who obeyed in silence? Why had he pried his arm away as if she were a leper? He had been satisfied back there—smiling amidst that human ruin. What had changed so abruptly?

​She sat up, a throbbing ache pulsing in her temples like war drums within her skull. "Is it possible..." she whispered, her voice trembling, "that he has begun to see me as a monster?"

​The thought gnawed at her mind like vermin. Did he hate her now? Had he seen the reflection of the demons she had summoned tonight in the depths of her eyes?

​Suddenly, a jagged, mocking laugh tore from her throat—a bitter sound that scraped against her vocal cords.

​"For God’s sake, Olivia, wake up!" she snapped, surging to her feet. "A single lie—that he loves you—and you actually believed he would forgive everything? You truly are a fool."

​"I must stop dwelling on such trivialities," Olivia hissed to her reflection. "What matters is my revenge—regardless of the cost, regardless of the means."

​On the opposite side of the palace, in a cellar choked by dampness and shadows, Mathias collapsed onto the freezing stone floor. His body racked with an unnatural tremor, a violent shudder that seemed to vibrate from his very bones. Leon worked with frantic precision, snapping heavy iron shackles around his brother’s wrists as if he were caging a rabid beast rather than a man.

​"Brother, are you alright?" Leon asked, the clanking of the chains echoing with a funereal ring through the vaulted chamber.

​"I don’t think so, Leon..." Mathias’s voice came out strangled, saturated with agony. "This bloodlust... this hunger... it’s devouring me from the inside. It’s clawing at my soul."

​Leon paused, securing the final link, before staring down at his brother, bound like a common prisoner. "You killed someone today, didn’t you?" he asked, his voice thick with bitterness. "Otherwise, the curse wouldn’t have bloated to this fever pitch. You’re in a wretched state; the stench of death is seeping from your very pores."

​Mathias remained silent. It wasn’t a silence of denial, but the silence of a man unable to articulate the sheer depravity of what he had done.

​"Who was it this time?" Leon pressed, but the silence was his only answer.

​Leon sighed, leaning his back against the cold stone wall, watching his brother wrestle with the demons nested in his blood. "It’s about Olivia, isn’t it? You left together, you returned together... She’s the one who unleashed your monster."

​Mathias stayed quiet, but beads of sweat began to pour down his pallid face, his muscles knotting in agonizing spasms as he fought the curse that demanded more blood.

​"So, she’s the cause," Leon said, his voice heavy with despair. "Brother, are you going to spend your entire life groveling in that woman’s shadow? I know you love her, but I truly don’t want to lose you to her madness. She’s dragging you into hell with her."

​Suddenly, Mathias snapped his head up, his eyes flashing with a terrifying rage that cut through the cellar’s gloom. "If we’re going to apply your standards, then your ’virtuous’ wife should be first in line!"

​Leon’s body went rigid, but Mathias pressed on, his voice dripping with venom despite his agony. "No matter how brilliantly Olivia tries to cover for her, you and I both know the filthy truth... she was a spy for Roland Theron. So, stop playing the preacher while you’re hiding a traitor in your own bed."

​"In any case..." Mathias exhaled the words like lead slugs. "It seems I’ll have to visit that madwoman again."

​Leon froze, silence swallowing the room for a heartbeat before he uttered the name like a cursed incantation. "You mean... Talia?"

​"Yes," Mathias replied, a bitter, twisted smile ghosting over his pallid lips. "That woman is a true serpent; she coils around our necks every time we think we’ve broken free."

​Mathias closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cold stone wall, the chains moaning with his every movement. "The fact that I’m her son... that her blood is what flows through my veins, fueling this curse... it makes me loathe myself."

​Leon lowered his head, knowing there was no solace for a man who hated his own origin. "It will be a brutal visit."

​"We’ll see what can be done tomorrow," Mathias muttered, finally surrendering to his exhaustion as the curse began to settle under the weight of the iron. "Tomorrow... we’ll find out which one of us eats the other first."

​The rapid tapping at the door shattered the silence of dawn before the first light could even bleed into her room. Olivia groaned, her voice heavy with sleep as she gave the order to enter. It was Cale who invaded her solitude.

​"What do you want? It’s the crack of dawn," she muttered, pulling the duvet tighter around her.

​"I’m leaving the palace, just as you requested."

​"Finally found your senses, then?" she said, not even bothering to lift her head from the pillow. That familiar sharp edge was already bleeding into her tone.

​Kyle shook his head with a faint smile. "Even with sleep in your eyes, your tongue is still as sharp as a razor."

​She let out a dry, bitter laugh, closing her eyes once more. "You’re pounding on my door at this hour, Kyle. No respect for my sleep, no regard for my privacy... what did you expect? A goddamn welcoming committee?"

​Kyle moved with quiet steps and sank onto the edge of the mattress beside her. A sudden, heavy silence filled the room before he spoke in a tone Olivia hadn’t heard from him in years. "You know, Olivia... you’ve actually been a support to me lately. Even though things between us were... difficult. Impossible, even." He looked at her with a raw, genuine affection that threw her entire world off balance. "Thank you."

​"Oh... uh, you’re welcome," she stammered, a strange sensation crawling through her chest. This wasn’t the Kyle she knew.

Kyle leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I’m sorry about yesterday, sister. I was out of line, just being narrow-minded. I really do love you, and I’m glad you’re in my life."

​The words died in her throat. Olivia stayed pinned to the mattress, her eyes wide and staring, paralyzed by this sudden, unearned flood of affection.

​Kyle chuckled at her stunned expression. "You look ridiculous, Olivia. So small—like a drowned cat. Anyway, I’m off."

​He rose to leave, but with an involuntary jolt, Olivia’s hand shot out. She gripped his wrist with a desperate strength, hauling herself upright. "Wait. There’s something we need to discuss."

​He sat back down, his brow furrowing at the sudden shift in the air. "What is it?"

​She locked onto his eyes with an unnerving sobriety, a weight that made the very atmosphere in the room feel like lead. "Kyle... I think we’re siblings."

​Kyle barked out a laugh, a clean, honest sound that shook his chest. "Olivia, you’re a riot in the morning! What else would we be? Neighbors?"

​She reached out and flicked his forehead hard, a snarl curling her lip. "Shut up! I mean siblings... real siblings."