Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 52

The city of Estrelle pulsed with life beneath a veil of uneasy quiet. In the wake of the Son of Shadows' death, rumors spread like wildfire, igniting secret gatherings in the narrow alleyways and dimly lit taverns of the lower districts. Men and women muttered his name in hushed voices, invoking him not as a rebel, but as a martyr whose blood had painted a path for those who yearned for something different—something beyond Eren Valen's reign.

Eren observed these stirrings of unrest from his high tower, casting a long gaze over the city's flickering lights. Tonight, he was not alone. Alaric and Renna stood by, their presence a silent confirmation of what they had come to discuss.

"Reports from the city guard," Renna began, her tone measured but grave. "People are gathering, sharing stories of the Son. They say he stood for the powerless, the ones trampled by war."

Eren's face remained impassive. "And you think I should care about the ramblings of fools?"

Alaric's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, voice low but insistent. "It's not just fools, Eren. It's the common people. The merchants, laborers—even some of the guards. You let them mourn, and they'll twist his story into a rallying cry. Let this spark grow, and it won't be long before it burns through your control."

Eren's gaze drifted to the city below. He didn't reply immediately, a silence settling like dust over the room.

---

In the early hours of morning, Eren slipped through Estrelle's streets, cloaked and unrecognizable, moving unnoticed in the predawn quiet. Renna had insisted he take someone for protection, but he had refused. He needed to see the city as it was now, hear the voices himself.

He passed by vendors setting up their stalls, tired eyes narrowing at the figure lurking in the shadows. Conversations hushed when he drew close, as if the very walls had ears. It wasn't long before he caught the whispered name: "Son of Shadows."

Pausing, he slipped into the shadows by a small group huddled near an old stone wall. They were speaking with quiet intensity, their words too low to reach him clearly, but one thing was unmistakable—the symbol they traced on the ground. A single, sharp diagonal line crossing another, a crude yet unmistakable tribute to the fallen rebel.

Eren's gaze hardened, and he fought the urge to reveal himself, to crush this insolence on the spot. Yet, a part of him wanted to see where it led.

---

Before the sun fully crested over the horizon, Eren returned to the palace, his mind racing. The stirrings of rebellion he had witnessed—the quiet desperation in their faces—had left an impression he couldn't shake. His own power had been absolute for so long that the idea of opposition, especially rooted in a single man's death, gnawed at him.

When Renna and Alaric joined him in his chamber, they found him seated, a distant look in his eyes.

"They worship a dead man," he muttered. "And yet, his influence lives on. Why do they defy me so openly?"

Renna approached cautiously, choosing her words carefully. "Because they see in him something they no longer see in you."

Eren's gaze snapped to hers, the faintest flicker of irritation in his eyes. "And what is that?"

"Hope," she replied, her voice almost a whisper. "You crushed their enemies, unified the city. But in doing so, perhaps you also crushed the very thing they lived for."

"Hope," Eren repeated, tasting the word as if it were foreign to him. "Hope never put food on their tables or kept them safe. Power did that."

Alaric shifted, folding his arms. "People don't always follow logic, Eren. They cling to ideals, to memories. It's dangerous to let that grow unchecked."

Eren's mind raced. He had long learned that fear was the greatest motivator, that it kept order where chaos threatened. But this was something different, something intangible that even his iron grip might struggle to contain. He needed to act, but with precision.

"Then we give them hope," he declared, his voice taking on a cold edge. "But on my terms. If they want a symbol, then we create one for them."

---

That night, under Eren's orders, artisans, poets, and even a few former rebels were gathered. They were instructed to create tales and images, not of the Son of Shadows, but of a new vision for Estrelle—one that Eren himself would oversee. He planned to saturate the city with messages of prosperity, unity, and a shared strength. Those who would listen would be coaxed into forgetting the Son's image, giving them a fresh figure to rally behind: Eren's vision of Ezura, a "new" kingdom born from sacrifice.

In tandem, Alaric and Renna coordinated their networks, seeking out the followers of the Son of Shadows and spreading whispers of a treaty, a peace offered by Eren to those who would lay down arms. A few would accept; the rest, they would root out and silence. And for any still determined to see Eren's downfall, they would leave them isolated, targets for swift retribution.

---

The plan's first trial came just days later. News spread quickly that Eren would hold a public forum—a rare event, where he would speak directly to the people of Estrelle. Word traveled from district to district, drawing men, women, and even children from every corner of the city. By the time Eren took the stage in the grand square, thousands had gathered, filling the air with restless murmurs.

Standing before them, Eren raised a hand for silence. His presence commanded attention, and the crowd stilled as his voice rang out over the square.

"People of Estrelle," he began, "you have all suffered much, lost much. I am no stranger to your hardship, for I have seen it, fought alongside you, bled with you. I brought order to this city not for my own sake, but for ours. And now, I give you my vow: this land will prosper. We will build a future where none will fear, where power will not exploit the weak."

There was a murmur of agreement, but Eren saw doubt lingering in the eyes of the crowd. He continued, allowing his voice to soften. "And to those who feel disillusioned, I understand. The Son of Shadows gave his life for what he believed. I, too, once believed there was a simpler path, a way to preserve peace without sacrifice. But I was wrong."

A ripple of surprise ran through the crowd, and Eren pressed forward, allowing a slight crack in his iron demeanor. "Yet, I offer this: peace, prosperity, and a place for each of you in the world we build together. But let me be clear—Ezura will not tolerate those who sow discord. We are stronger than division."

---

As he finished, the crowd's reaction was uncertain. Some applauded, drawn to the prospect of stability and the chance to build without fear. Others remained silent, their expressions unreadable, hinting at an emboldened resistance that would take more than words to sway.

Eren scanned the crowd, his gaze hardening. He recognized the challenge in their eyes, a silent rebellion that would not yield easily. But in their silence, he also saw potential—a spark he could nurture or extinguish at will.

Eren's rule over Ezura had been firm, unyielding. But if there was one lesson he had learned tonight, it was this: shadows had a way of lingering, and his greatest challenge might be not in erasing them but in wielding them.

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