Years had passed. The empire had changed, but not as much as the boy who sat on its future throne.
Alexander. Named after the his father, Axel. A name whispered both with awe and with dread in every corner of the palace.
He had grown into a beautiful child — ethereal, even. Golden-blonde hair that gleamed like sunlight, a gift from his mother, and crimson eyes like a burning dusk, the haunting legacy of his father. But behind that angelic face, the court had begun to murmur.
"Did you hear?" one maid whispered to another while polishing the marble tiles of the eastern corridor. "The Crown Prince ordered the stable boy to feed the dogs… the dead ravens he killed himself."
"He smiled while doing it," another whispered. "Like it was a game."
