Now I remember. That voice… it's him. No, not him—it. The thing that's been with me since the beginning. The thing that made me… me.
Memories flood my mind, sharp and vivid, like shards of glass cutting through the fog of time.
I see myself as a child, no older than four or five, standing in the grand hall of my family's estate.
A maid is kneeling before me, her head bowed, her hands trembling as she holds out a tray of sweets.
I remember the look on her face—fear. She was afraid of me. And I liked it.
"You dropped one," I say, my voice cold and detached. I point to a single candy that had fallen to the floor. "Pick it up."
The maid hesitates, her eyes darting to the candy and then back to me. "Young master, it's dirty. Let me get you a fresh one—"
"I said pick it up," I snap, my voice rising. The voice in my head whispers, urging me on. *Make her eat it. Make her grovel. Show her who's in charge.*
The maid obeys, her hands shaking as she picks up the candy. I watch her, a cruel smile tugging at my lips. "Now eat it."
She freezes, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Young master, please—"
"Eat it!" I shout, my voice echoing through the hall. The voice in my head laughs, a dark, twisted sound that fills me with a strange sense of satisfaction.
The maid hesitates for a moment longer before slowly bringing the candy to her lips.
She eats it, her face pale, her eyes filled with humiliation. I laugh, the sound hollow and empty.
The voice in my head praises me, telling me I've done well. But deep down, I feel nothing. No guilt. No remorse. Just… emptiness.
Another memory surfaces. I'm older now, maybe six.
I'm outside, in the courtyard, watching a group of commoner children playing with their pets.
A boy, no older than me, is holding a small, scruffy dog in his arms. The dog barks happily, wagging its tail. The boy laughs, his face filled with joy.
I feel a surge of anger. Why should he be happy? Why should anyone be happy when I'm not?
The voice in my head whispers,*Take it from him. Make him suffer.*
I walk over to the boy, my expression cold. "Give me the dog," I demand.
The boy looks up at me, confused. "What? No, he's mine—"
"I said give it to me!" I snatch the dog from his arms, ignoring his protests. The dog yelps, struggling in my grip.
I tighten my hold, my fingers digging into its fur. The boy tries to take it back, but I shove him away, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"You're hurting him!" the boy cries, tears streaming down his face.
I don't care. The voice in my head urges me on, telling me to crush the dog, to make the boy suffer.
But before I can do anything, a servant intervenes, pulling me away. The boy grabs his dog and runs, his sobs echoing in the distance.
I feel a flicker of something—guilt? No, it can't be. The voice in my head scolds me, telling me I should have been crueler. I nod, agreeing with it. Next time, I'll do better.
But then, everything changes.
I'm seven years old, standing in a grand ballroom filled with light and music.
It's a birthday party, and I've been dragged here by my parents. I don't want to be here.
I don't want to be around all these people. The voice in my head is loud, telling me to ruin the party, to make everyone miserable.
But then I see her.
Aurora.
She's standing in the center of the room, her pink hair shimmering under the chandelier light.
She's wearing a beautiful white dress, and she's smiling—a bright, genuine smile that lights up the entire room.
For a moment, I forget about the voice in my head. I forget about the cruelty, the emptiness. All I can see is her.
The voice in my head screams at me, telling me to hurt her, to make her cry. But I can't. I don't want to.
For the first time in my life, I ignore the voice. I walk over to her, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Hi," I say, my voice soft. "I'm Lucas."
She turns to me, her smile widening. "Hi, Lucas! I'm Aurora. Well Princess Aurora. Do you want to dance?"
I nod, unable to speak. She takes my hand, and we start to dance. The voice in my head is furious, screaming at me to stop, to hurt her, to ruin this moment.
But I don't listen. For the first time, I feel something other than emptiness. I feel… happy.
The voice grows quieter and quieter, its influence over me fading with each passing moment.
By the end of the night, it's gone. Completely. I don't know why or how, but I don't care. All I know is that I'm free.
But now, as I lie here on the battlefield, my body broken and my mind fading, I hear it again. That voice. The one I thought I'd left behind.
*"Remember me now, brat?"* it sneers, its tone mocking. *"You thought you could get rid of me? How naive."*
I try to respond, but my consciousness is slipping. The last thing I hear before everything goes dark is the voice laughing, a sound that fills me with dread.
*"Welcome back, Lucas. Let's have some fun."*