Doubts and Shadows

POV Tia:

The atmosphere was tense, with a heavy silence falling over the crowd. The young woman stood imposingly above the condemned, her long platinum-blonde hair billowing in the breeze. Her lilac eyes intensely bore into their souls.

The ritual black-bladed saber with golden ornaments in her hand, long and sleek, gleamed in the sunlight, its ergonomic hand bringing comfort.

"Haha, I can truly see why the Empire despises you. You are garbage!" Her mocking laughter, aimed at the convicts, sent shivers through the onlookers.

Hundreds of eyes were fixed on her. The crowd was silent, their breath held captive by the still-smoldering remains of the troublemaker.

'Phh, they are not a threat.'

The convicts were trembling. Their faces, pale and covered in tears, betrayed fear. Their whimpers were stifled by the gags in their mouths.

Even though she usually didn't find any satisfaction in the slaughter of the weak, a smile was plastered on her face as the worms kneeling on the podium were true manifestations of what she hated and despised.

"Pathetic!" the young woman spat with venom. "Living in luxury while sending others to die for your cause, yet, now, you can't even die with dignity."

They weren't weak soldiers or people just trying to survive; they were pathetic worms sending other people to their deaths without ever risking their own lives.

'You are like that damn witch council, just using others as your pawns.'

The witch council's machinations echoed in her mind, igniting a fire of rage and vindication.

'Maybe in the future, I will get to visit you again.'

She raised her sword, its blade gleaming ominously under the sunlight, and her cold proclamation reverberated throughout the entire square, amplified through the reproductors. "I sentence you to death!"

With a swift move of her hand, the blade descended, and the entire crowd of people in the square turned silent.

Like a sharp shadow, the black blade cut through the flesh and bone smoothly and without any resistance.

Blood gushed in a horrific geyser, yet not a single droplet blemished the girl while painting the guards, the rest of the tied garbage, and the podium crimson.

A heavy thud echoed as the body fell lifelessly upon the podium, the severed head rolling through the ground. At that moment, a brief yet unmistakable flash of light sparked within the dead man's eyes.

'What was that?' Doubt threaded through Tia's mind. It was such a brief flash that if it wasn't for her inhumanly fast mind, she wouldn't even notice.

She raised the sword once more, walking to the second convict.

'Was it really there?'

She swiftly swung it down, watching each moment with curiosity. The dark blade cleaved through the flesh and bone like before, blood pouring out.

Bleeding, the man dropped dead to the ground. There was no flash of light in his dead, vacant eyes.

'Nothing? Am I really going insane?'

Half an hour later:

POV Red-eye:

The raven-haired woman sat in a plush white chair that contrasted with her ebony-black dress and coat. She gently rested her head against her glossy, jet-black table cut out of obsidian, her legs crossed beneath it.

'I can't. Why isn't the emperor waiting for so long? We should be the first ones to strike them and take the initiative.' She pondered in stress, her world slowly cracking and breaking.

She lifted her head, looking at one of his loyal knights, an elderly man in a long trenchcoat.

"Is the world clear?" Her voice, though steady, betrayed a hint of the unrest.

"Yes, Your Grace, no one has noticed our true intentions."

'At least something has gone well.' A weary sigh escaped her lips.

'The rest should also be ready. The only trouble comes from the Commune and the Federation, as their leaders change too often. The risk of leaks is too great; they must be left out. However, that can be problematic. Still, Admiral West can be trusted.'

"Is she back?" Elyra spoke calmly, wanting to move on to a more pleasant subject, her outer face not showing even the tiniest drop of her inner turmoil.

"Yes, Your Grace, she has just returned and is resting."

Elyra's ruby-like eyes gleamed with renewed vigor as she rose out of her chair with her clothes quietly rustling.

'At least I have her.' She was tired, stressed, and overburdened—she needed her relaxation and her pet.

(AN: Finally, I have managed to plot this volume. It took a while, but now I can again have time for bonus chapters.)