Nero - Revenge never tasted better

Chapter 12 - The Fall of a Queen

The mid-afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, filling the living room with a gentle, golden radiance. Resting on the plush couch, I found my mind drifting to the persistent unease that had plagued me for months. A haunting feeling of being watched, as if a spectral presence clung to my every move, gripped me like an unrelenting phantom. The sensation seemed to intensify at night or whenever I ventured to or from the den.

Unseen eyes seemed to follow my every step, hidden figures lurking just beyond my peripheral vision. At first, I dismissed it as mere paranoia, a by-product of my clandestine meetings with Aiyden. My actions, betraying both the clan and Nicodemo, could warrant the most severe punishment should I be discovered. My imagination refused to dwell on the gruesome fate they might have in store for me if my treachery were exposed.

Death, I knew, would not suffice for them. No, they would relish making an example of me, subjecting me to the most excruciating and harrowing demise imaginable. My suffering would serve as a chilling warning to the civilians of Crimson Hollow, reminding them of the clan's power and the fate that awaits those who dare oppose them. They would take pleasure in haunting the nightmares of their subjects, ensuring my punishment would be etched in their minds for eternity.

Thus, my growing paranoia over the past months seemed justified, causing me to remain vigilant, attuned to the slightest sound, ever fearful that someone might be tailing me, on the brink of discovering my treacherous ways.

But that theory got shattered when the unsettling sensation of being followed resurfaced a few days past, just as I departed Maison Elysian. There was no plausible reason for my unease; I hadn't set foot in the den for weeks, and a vigilant bodyguard kept a watchful eye on my every move, day and night.

Yet, the palpable feeling persisted, impossible to ignore any longer. Someone trailed me with purpose, an enigmatic presence whose identity eluded me. I strained to piece together the scattered encounters, but they remained maddeningly elusive. Always lingering at the edge of my senses - a faint rustle of leaves, the echo of footsteps, but never anything definitive. Whenever I dared to glance over my shoulder, the darkness greeted me with empty arms, and the enigmatic pursuer slipped away like smoke in the wind.

On several occasions, Aiyden had discreetly shadowed my steps, an act that, despite my initial dislike, was part of his endearing charm - a manifestation of his protective nature towards those he cared for.  Which had me wonder how he was faring, not knowing about my welfare, unable to shield me from harm. The thought of him restless in his cabin, tormented by uncertainty about my well-being, pained me deeply. I yearned to offer reassurance, to ease his anguish with an embrace, but alas, it was an impossibility for the present time. Perhaps he had ignored my plea, and he was the one trailing me.

Yet, as I closed my eyes and sifted through my memories, recalling those specific occurrences, it became clear to me that it couldn't be him.

The more I reflected on it, the more implausible it seemed. Aiyden, though skilled in survival and secrecy as an outcast, lacked the finesse and subtlety displayed by this enigmatic pursuer. No, it was evident that someone or something else was at play here. The feeling of being followed coincided with peculiar incidents that defied rational explanation.

One night, as I returned from the den for instance, the echo of footsteps teased my senses, but when I spun around to confront my pursuer, the space behind me was vacant.  It was as if the enigmatic pursuer had vanished into thin air, far beyond the range of human possibility. Usain Bolt's wildest dreams couldn't fathom such speed. Utterly perplexed, I questioned who could possess such an extraordinary ability and, more importantly, what their intentions were.

My heart quickened its pace, and I sat upright, a sudden rush of vulnerability washing over me within the confines of my own home. What if, at this very moment, they lurked outside, peering through the curtains, invading my sanctuary? The sensation of being watched intensified, and my mind swirled with thoughts of the enigmatic figure that had dogged my every step. Could they have tracked me all the way to my doorstep?