Ink: Living Life as Serena Gleis

LXIX: The Emperor's Leash

“Esmeralda, how is it going?” Cynfael’s deep voice reverberated through the empty hall, each word echoing ominously off the cold stone walls. The place was cloaked in shadows, the flickering light of a few scattered candles the only source of illumination.

“The fort has been eradicated,” came the Duchess’s reply, her voice raspy and worn, as if each word was dragged painfully from her throat. She stood rigid, her eyes downcast, unable to meet Cynfael's gaze. A slender arm draped itself over Cynfael’s shoulders as Celine appeared beside him, her eyes gleaming with malevolent delight. An evil grin twisted her lips as she leaned in closer.

“Gleis will soon be ours,” Celine declared, her laughter sharp and deranged, filling the hall with its unsettling sound. Esmeralda remained still, her gaze fixed on the floor. The weight of her actions pressed heavily on her soul. She, who had once vowed to protect the innocent, had betrayed that vow. The fort’s destruction, the harm inflicted on the people of Gleis—these were stains on her honor that could never be washed away.

“How many forts are left?” Celine asked, her tone casual as she assessed the situation. Esmeralda turned her gaze towards the girl she had once adored, now seeing nothing but a monster in the guise of innocence.

“Three, inside Bluistain,” Esmeralda replied, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.

“Good. Once you’ve cut all their ties, prepare for war,” Celine instructed as she approached Esmeralda, her steps slow and deliberate. The malice in her eyes was unmistakable, and she seemed to relish the Duchess’s torment. Celine was well aware of Gleis’ strong alliances with neighboring kingdoms and empires—ties that could turn the tide of war against them. She knew that their victory hinged on severing these connections before any outside aid could arrive.

As Celine moved back to Cynfael’s side, Esmeralda caught a fleeting glimpse of something in the Emperor’s eyes—something that shocked her to her core. His usual mask of cold indifference was momentarily replaced by an expression of desperation, anguish, and grief. It was as if he was silently crying out for help. But just as quickly as it appeared, the emotion vanished, buried beneath his usual impassive facade as Celine resumed her place beside him.

“Leave,” Cynfael commanded, his voice void of warmth.

Esmeralda hesitated for a moment, her mind racing, trying to reconcile the brief vulnerability she had witnessed with the emotionless figure before her. But there was nothing left to see—only the cold, expressionless Emperor staring back at her. With one last glance, she turned and left the hall, her heart heavy with the knowledge that whatever humanity Cynfael had once possessed was now deeply buried, if it still existed at all.

The door clicked shut, leaving only Cynfael and Celine in the dimly lit chamber. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the faint fluttering of the candle flames as Celine’s gaze bore into Cynfael. Her eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating malice, each step she took toward him slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t notice?” Her voice was low, almost a growl, as she moved closer. Her fingertips traced along his cheek, the touch soft but filled with menace.

Cynfael’s eyes burned with rage, seething with a fury he could barely contain. He longed to lash out, to end the life of the woman who stood before him, but his body betrayed him, bound by an unseen force that rendered him powerless. His muscles tensed with the effort to resist, but the invisible leash around his neck tightened, cutting off his breath and stifling his will. A black mist, sinister and ethereal, materialized, wrapping around his throat, its other end firmly in Celine’s grasp.

“Let me go,” Cynfael managed to rasp out, his voice hoarse and strained. The leash constricted further with every attempt to defy her, choking the words before they could fully form.