Sora woke up to the unfamiliar sight of his own bedroom ceiling, as if seeing it for the first time. He felt off, like something wasn't quite right.
I was… asleep?
He didn't need to sleep. Not physically. In fact, he hadn't in decades. It was unnecessary. So why had he allowed himself to do it? Why did I allow myself to fall into… that state?
The silence inside him was unnerving. No thoughts trying to worm their way out of the back of his mind, no plans, no fleeting distractions vying for his attention. Only empty quiet.
I despise this.
The stillness of the room felt stifling. The once cheerful early morning sunlight was now accusing him- of what, he didn't know.
I don't understand why I did this.
Sora's magic allowed him to stay awake as long as he wanted. He could still sleep, but at the cost of precious hours better spent being productive.
In the first few years of his reign, he always had to stay vigilant, to avoid the countless assassination attempts. As time went on and people stopped trying, he slept very occasionally. Only to escape… something.
But what had caused him to do it, after so much time?
No matter. Every second spent lying here pointlessly is a second wasted. And time is a precious thing. Sora rose from his bed, considering the long list of tasks that needed to be done.
Strangely, he didn't feel the usual drive to complete them all. I suppose they can wait for one day. It's only Sunday.
He doubted he would be able to accomplish anything in his current state, anyway. But as he contemplated his next move, he realised that he didn't know what to do instead. Feeling slightly uncomfortable at the uncertainty, he glanced out of the bedroom window.
The city below the palace was lovely in the mornings, with people enjoying their days off together with family and friends. Once, long ago, Sora would often disguise himself and wander among them, listening to their thoughts and conversations.
Trying to remember what it was like to wake up without the worries of government affairs and rebellions weighing him down.
I cannot complain about my life. I brought this on myself. Sora had stopped venturing into the city when the outside world began to develop rapidly.
His responsibilities only grew, and he was completely absorbed with preventing the discovery of Laurelian. Fending off the technology that threatened everything he worked for, all while looking for ways to use those technologies to his own advantage.
Now that I think about it, I have been feeling differently for a while now. I chose not to immediately eradicate the new rebel group. I involved others in my problem, instead of taking it into my own hands as I did in the past. And today, the usual urgency to act is gone.
Maybe, just maybe, is that spell…?
If he tried to speak, truly speak- would it work this time?
Sora stepped in front of the wall mirror on the other side of the room. The reflection met his gaze, unflinching. There he was again; the man they all knew. The King. Ruthless, unyielding, cruel. His eyes were pale and frigid, holding no remorse. They never had.
'I don't…' Sora began.
The words caught in his throat.
'I don't want to…' The sentence faltered. His mouth had once again stopped obeying him.
Then, in his own voice, -perfectly steady, perfectly familiar- came the rest.
'You don't want to what?'
Sora's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't meant to say it. He hadn't even thought it.
But it had come out all the same.
And then more words followed. Again in his voice, but still not his own.
'Face it, Sora. You are an awful person. No matter what you do, you always will be. You killed him, and thousands more. If only you kept your head down back then, everything would be different. It's your fault everybody hates you. Your fault…'
Sora's hands clenched into fists. He wanted to speak, to defend himself, but there was nothing he could do. It's not fair, he thought bitterly. He controls every word, but I can't say a single one of my own.
The King began speaking again, cold and mocking.
'Why should you care? Let them resent you and curse your entire existence. Let them think you're a monster. After all, you earned that title long ago.'
Sora sighed. He had hoped, ever so slightly, that today might be different, and he would be in complete control again. A hope that even one sentence would be his own. The small disappointment settled in his chest, heavy and familiar. Of course, it didn't work. Why would it?
The spell may be fraying at the edges, but it's still there. Forget it. At least I can still somewhat choose what I do when I'm alone.
The only time he could act freely was in solitude- then, he didn't have to present himself as the King, didn't have to pressure others to scare them into line. But what's the point of being yourself if no one is there to see it?
Sora turned away from the mirror. He didn't want to hear any more of those cutting words. Not now, when his thoughts had already been slowly inching down that path.
The truth was, there were some days when he almost agreed with the King. Days when it was easier to let that cold persona take the reins, and slip into apathy. To wear it like armour.
But not today.
Returning to the window, he threw the curtains wide open. Bright light spilled across the exquisite furniture adorning the bedroom, but it felt distant. Unreachable.
From here, he could see the carefully constructed buildings of the city, the homes, the streets and parks.
Somewhere down there, people were going out, stretching, laughing, eager to make the most of the day. The kind of life he barely recalled living.
He watched for a while in silence, with a small sense of detachment he couldn't shake. Like he was observing the world as a ghost who could see and hear, yet not even dream to touch.
Sora's mind drifted to the garden terrace. Once upon a time, he dreamed of being one of those special people who were granted the chance to enjoy the winding pathways and levels filled with nature, back before that day. Now, even appearing there in his true form would cause panic among the staff.
Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to go there without the shackles of responsibility and the past. No monarch, no monster. Just simply a man walking around, enjoying the scenery.
He moved away from the window. No use in imagining things that can't be. Instead, he focused on his next form, deciding to go down to the city.
Sora's appearance shimmered, and began to shift, settling on the likeness of a former second-in-command from eighty or so years ago. Greying hair, slightly hunched, wrinkled face worn down by the trials of life. Nobody would stop this man in the street.
With the transformation complete, Sora took a deep breath and picked up a folded cloak from a table around himself. Then he concealed himself, outline fading into absolute nothingness.
He slipped out of his bedroom without a sound, moving quickly through hidden passageways the walls of the palace. Those halls were narrow and lined with dust, built long ago as secret escape routes. They served him well now as a means to avoid interaction.
Being Sunday, there were few people around. Most had left to visit their families, and the usual air of warmth dotted with tension had lessened, if only slightly.
As he neared the exit of the corridor, he sensed the approach of two others.
Anthony. Rita.
Anthony's thoughts were happy, excited. The emotions of someone enjoying a rare moment of peace. He seemed content, which Sora supposed was a good thing. Anthony was making good use of his time, developing social skills in a friendly environment.
Then there was Rita.
Her mind was messy, but guarded. On the outside, her energy seemed bright and upbeat, happy for her friend, but on the inside, she was planning something. Sora couldn't interpret all of her thoughts, but what he did catch was clear enough.
'I have to convince him. I don't think Anthony's completely loyal to him… they definitely aren't close, judging by how nothing happened when I took a risk and spoke badly of Sora. But if Sora found out, he would kill all of us…'
Rita had always been on the more perceptive side. Sora already knew about her friendship with Anthony, but he'd never considered her a threat. Though her little schemes were incredibly annoying, he hadn't expected her to try to enlist Anthony's help.
Hah, trying to use my own sword against me, is she? How bold of her. The thought floated through his mind, sharp, yet not something he'd even meant to think. Not in those words, anyway. But it was undeniably there.
He emerged through the hidden exit and into the bright hallway, still undetectable. Lingering silently at the edge, watching the two of them as they strolled by unhurriedly.
'Tomorrow is the big day. I'm actually super excited, getting to go to a real school for the first time. I can finally make friends my age! No offense to you and Kieran though,' Anthony beamed.
'None taken, but you're so mean, dude. I'm only, what, eight years older than you? I'm not your elderly aunt or something! Hey, but on that note, you should make friends with my 'lil cousin. She'll be in your year. Her buddies are pretty cool, you'll like them,' Rita replied.
'Ehh, that might be awkward if I go up to her and say "I know your cousin, wanna be friends?" Sure though, I guess I could try. What's her name?'
'Nadine Ayna. Long dark brown hair, olive skin. Thinks she's tough but she ain't all that. Kinda reminds me of you.'
'Wow, gee, thanks. That's a great quality to be compared to. You're gonna regret that when we get to the pool!'
Their laughter bounced down the hall, fading once they turned a corner. They had been only a few metres away, close enough where Sora could've intervened, interrupted. But he didn't.
Instead, he stood still, letting their voices die away. Nadine. Another name to remember. Rita wanted to get her own family involved. He wondered how this girl might act when she found out, or what role Rita hoped she would play.
He shifted slightly.
It had always been like this. People making quiet plans, whispers of alliances. Careful moves, hidden behind smiling faces. He long since learned to watch, rather than ask. Trust led nowhere useful.
And yet… Anthony sounded genuinely happy.
It unsettled him more than it should have.
I envy them, a voice murmured. Not quite the King or himself. He pushed it aside. He didn't envy anything.
But still, as he turned away, the faint echo of their laughter clung to him like a cobweb.
It doesn't matter what they're all plotting. He would stay ten steps ahead, like always.
He had to.