He wanted to scream. To call for help. To beg for someone to shatter the walls closing in on him.
But his mouth wouldn't open.
His throat refused to move.
His voice was trapped, sealed beneath layers of fear and shame, a silent echo that bounced uselessly within him.
The figure from his dreams whispered to him, it's voice dripping with venom.
"Just like you killed me, you'll kill them too. You're a demon spawn, filth from the depths."
Anore gritted his teeth, shaking his head in a futile attempt to drown it out, but the words coiled around his neck like a noose.
His heart pounded, the noise deafening, as his body trembled beneath the weight of invisible chains.
There was no physical cages.
No shackles or prison walls.
Yet he remained trapped and he couldn't escape it.
Tears spilled over his cheeks as the realization tightened around his heart—no iron could bind him more than his own mind did.
The chains he fought were carved into his very bones, and no one—not even himself—knew how to break them.
He was trapped within himself. And no one could reach him.
Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of Castemire Estate, casting pale streaks of gold across the marble floors.
The estate was quiet, save for the muted clink of silverware as breakfast was laid out in its usual, meticulous fashion.
Eiden descended the staircase, his stride brisk, his attire crisp and composed. The brief bath had washed away the remnants of sleeplessness, but his mind was already racing through the day's agenda. He took his seat at the long dining table, unfolding a napkin with casual elegance.
Evan approached, placing a cup of tea before him. "Good morning, Master Eiden."
Eiden hummed in response, his gaze scanning the table.
"Where is Anore?" he asked,his tone light but deliberate.
Evan's expression didn't waver. "He hasn't come out of his room yet, Master."
Eiden's hand paused over his teacup.
A long silence followed, filled only by the distant chirping of birds beyond the windows.
"I see..." he said finally, settling back in his chair. "Leave him be then."
He reached for a slice of bread, spreading a thin layer of jam with unhurried precision. "If he wishes to stay in his room, I won't chase him. I have a prior engagement to attend at the moment"
Evan inclined his head. "Understood."
Eiden didn't glance up again. His focus had already shifted to the day's affairs.
"I will be back by three noon.." he said, dabbing his lips with a napkin before standing. "Prepare the study for when I return. I expect Gareth Voleyn's ledgers will require a quiet space."
Evan bowed. "Meticulous as always master. The carriage is ready outside."
Eiden's steps echoed through the entrance hall as he left, his polished shoes clicking against the stone floors.
His expression was unreadable as he climbed into the carriage, the door shutting with a soft thud behind him.
Outside, the estate basked in morning calm, but Eiden's mind was already far from its serene facade.
The ride to Gareth Voleyn's estate was not long, but it was enough to rehearse the necessary masks.
Gareth was a man who responded not to threats, but to leverage. And Eiden was a man who never asked without knowing the price of a "yes."
When the carriage rolled to a halt, Eiden stepped out, greeted by the opulence of the Voleyn's mansion—a place dressed in excessive wealth, where even the doorknobs gleamed like small suns.
Voleyn's butler led him through marble halls, adorned with grotesque statues that seemed to leer down with hollow eyes. It was theatrical, gaudy even. But Eiden wore his smile like a dagger sheathed in silk.
Gareth Voleyn awaited him in his private parlor, sprawled comfortably on a chaise lounge. He was a thin man, more serpent like than human, with a smile that stretched too wide and eyes that didn't match it.
"Eiden Castemire.." Gareth drawled, lifting a glass of amber liquor in greeting. "To what do I owe this honor so early in the day?"
Eiden returned his smile, smooth and unbothered as he settled into the chair opposite.
His fingers tapped lazily against the armrest, a subtle rhythm that belied the weight of his words.
"Gareth, you owe me a favor. And I've come to collect."
Gareth's smile twitched. His amusement faltered for the briefest moment, before he recovered, swirling the liquor in his glass. "That's such an ugly word—owe. I prefer… partnerships."
Eiden tilted his head, voice pleasant. "Call it whatever you wish. But the debt remains."
The tension was a thin thread, stretched taut between them.
"I want the King's hidden debts.." Eiden said, the smile never leaving his lips. "Not the surface ones. I want the debts so deep even his own ministers have forgotten they existed. You know where they are buried right? Gareth."
Gareth chuckled softly, but his eyes sharpened. "You don't ask for small things, do you?"
"And I never will.." Eiden replied, crossing one leg over the other with perfect poise. "And you know better than to play coy with me."
The weight behind Eiden's words was undeniable. Gareth's lips pressed into a thin line. The man was many things, but a fool was not one of them.
"There's a price, of course.." Gareth said, leaning forward, the playful lilt in his tone sharpened to a blade. "I won't risk that king's wrath without something substantial in return."
Eiden stroked his chin, the polite smile on his face never leaving.
"What you'll be getting is my protection. I take you'll find that beneficial than silver or gold.."
The room seemed to tighten around them, tension weaving through every polite word.
"I've kept those books sealed for a reason.." Gareth said, leaning forward, voice dropping. "If they fall into the wrong hands, the entire kingdom burns."
Eiden's gaze didn't waver. "Then it's fortunate they'll be in mine."
The silence that followed was sharp. Gareth weighed his options, but they both knew the outcome had been inevitable from the moment Eiden walked in.
With a resigned sigh, Gareth opened a hidden compartment beneath his desk, retrieving a bundle wrapped in dark velvet. He laid it gently on the polished surface between them.
"These are the original ledgers.." Gareth said, his voice soft but firm. "Every erased debt, every puppet transaction. They are now yours."