As Ophelia walked beside Damian in the palace garden, under the moonlight filtering through the leaves, she broke the silence with a question that seemed to have lingered in her mind for a long time:
"Don't you think the emperor's behavior was strange? What drove him to act that way?"
Damian looked at her deeply before answering, as if what he was about to say wasn't just words but a heavy history:
"There are things not written in the court's books, stories only known to those who witnessed the founding of this land."
He paused, then continued in a low voice:
"Five hundred years ago, the first emperor, 'Hector Regland Mathiory', made a pact with a spirit of darkness... granting him immense power that paved the way to build the empire. Since then, pure spirits became a threat to the balance founded on darkness."
Ophelia looked at him in surprise, and he went on:
"To hide the truth, the court began accusing anyone who contracted with pure spirits of witchcraft, and they were executed immediately. This cemented the idea that contracting spirits was reserved for saints alone, to protect their influence... The truth? Those executed were offered as sacrifices to the dark spirit to whom the empire still owes its power."
Damian lowered his voice further, as if even the trees were listening:
"People believed what they were told... not because they truly believed, but because the alternative was more terrifying than they could bear."
Ophelia remained silent, staring at the ground, as if Damian's words weighed heavily on her chest.
"That means…" she whispered, "everyone accused of witchcraft wasn't guilty… but rather a threat to the established order."
Damian nodded slowly, "Most of them, yes. And some didn't even know they carried pure mana. Just being born with it was enough for execution."
"Is that mentality still alive today?"
Damian smiled bitterly, "Systems don't change easily, especially when built on fear. Your appearance in the arena unsettled them because you didn't follow the rules. You're not from a priestly lineage, nor sealed by any sacred mark… yet you contracted with a spirit."
Ophelia looked at him intently, "So that means they might try to get rid of me."
"Or contain you," he said cautiously. "The emperor is too smart to openly oppose you, but he won't allow anyone who threatens his source of power to rise."
She fell silent again, then whispered, "Sometimes I wonder… what have I gotten myself into?"
Damian stepped closer:
"You didn't get yourself into anything… you've always been at the heart of it all. You just didn't know it yet."
Ophelia took a few steps forward, her eyes fixed on the sky as if waiting for an answer that wouldn't come.
"Do you think they'll move soon?"
After a moment of silence, Damian replied, "Most likely. After what you've shown, they'll start investigating. They'll want to know how strong you are, who stands with you, and who around you can be broken."
She looked at him, her tone sharp, "I won't be a tool in anyone's hands, and I won't let them decide my place."
Damian nodded lightly, "In this game, no one plays fair. Everyone in the court has two faces… some even more."
Ophelia responded, "And I don't care about faces. I'll cut off anyone standing in my way, no matter what masks they wear."
She took a few more steps, the heavy silence accompanying them, then added, "I'll choose my battle… but once I start, I'll be the one writing the rules."
Damian smiled gently, his voice low, "Then it won't be long before the tables are turned."
She opened the palace door without looking back and said, "No, before they're shattered."
Ophelia climbed the marble stairs slowly, her steps heavy but her eyes shining with unshakable determination. She stopped at the edge of the upper balcony, looking out at the dark city sprawling along the mountains.
In a low voice, without turning, she said, "If this is what the empire is built on… maybe it's time to tear it down."
Damian appeared behind her, still as her shadow. "Do you realize what you're saying? Toppling the emperor isn't just rebellion—it's a declaration of war against everything people know."
She replied sharply, "And what do they even know? Lies? Empty rituals? Powers that claim purity while slaughtering innocents in the name of the light?"
Damian was silent for a moment, then said, "Exposing the truth won't be enough. People don't believe easily… unless the lie is comfortable."
She turned to him, her face eerily calm. "I'll give them what they can't deny. Not a story, but proof. And I'll start by breaking their most sacred symbol."
Damian took a step closer, "The emperor himself?"
She shook her head. "Leopold is just a face on a rotten throne. But if he falls… the walls beneath will crumble."
Then she added, in a low but sharp voice like a sword:
"I will expose their corruption, the spirits of darkness, and the blood they've shed. I will bring them down before the eyes of the people… not as an outlaw, but as one restoring order."
Damian watched her eyes closely and said,
"Then there will be no way back."
She replied without hesitation,
"There never was a way back."
Ophelia stood in the stillness of the night, staring into the surrounding darkness, then turned to Damian and said,
"Do you know… what the darkness's weakness is?"
Damian smiled, his tone carrying his usual hint of sarcasm,
"Doesn't its name give it away? The spirits of darkness fear the light… whether it's tangible light or spiritual energy."
Ophelia raised her eyes to him, excitement creeping into her features:
"That means you're… their weakness. Not just light, but water capable of purification as well."
Damian nodded confidently, a warm smile spreading across his face:
"As clever as always. The balance I carry between light and water allows me to cleanse dark spirits… even erase their existence completely. And now, after summoning me, this power has become a part of you too."
Ophelia hesitated, lowering her gaze to her hand as if searching for something unfamiliar:
"So… you're saying I have the power to face the darkness… and overthrow the emperor?"
She paused, then added softly,
"But I still don't fully control your power."
Damian reached out, gently took her hand, his tone calm but sure:
"That's okay… you'll learn."
Ophelia bowed her head but said nothing. This silence was no longer hesitation, but a new weight settling in her chest… the weight of decision.
She took a few steps away, her eyes fixed on a point in the sky.
"Everything has changed, hasn't it?"
Damian quietly approached and stood beside her,
"The world doesn't change, Ophelia. We're just the ones who start seeing it as it really is."
She exhaled slowly, then said with steady voice:
"I don't want to fix this empire… I want to bring it down. Expose them before the people, and destroy the lie built on the blood of the innocent."
Damian looked at her, and for the first time, a faint glimmer of caution shone in his eyes.
"This path won't bring you glory, but enmity from everyone… the clergy, the nobles, and even those you try to protect."
Ophelia smiled with a faint sarcasm,
"Let them hate me, as long as I know I'm not the one who made a pact with darkness."
Damian didn't answer immediately, but deep inside, he knew the war had already begun—not with swords… but with truth.
And that truth no longer frightened Ophelia Carter.