The sound of Abigail's footsteps approached from behind me, but my gaze remained locked on the man kneeling before me. He was badly injured, his body trembling from the effects of my magic—a gaping burn mark marred his skin. He shook in pain, yet despite this, his eyes shone with fierce determination. He glared at me with hatred, even though it was clear he was running out of strength.

The "other" self inside me was ready to finish him off. I could feel my muscles tense, my hand gripping the dagger slowly inching forward, poised to plunge it into his heart. But the voice of my true self screamed within me.

"Don't!" I shouted in my mind, but it felt like my words echoed in an empty room. "Don't kill him!"

There was a brief pause, and then the "other" self replied in a cold, focused tone. "If we don't kill him now, we'll be the ones who die. He won't hesitate to kill us."

Deep down, I knew there was truth in those words. The world around me was harsh. The place I found myself in now was not a palace of diplomacy but a brutal world devoid of mercy. Still, my hand trembled. The thought of taking someone's life made my heart choke.

I closed my eyes, trying to fight against the control of the "other" self. I didn't want to do this. I couldn't do this.

Suddenly, Abigail's voice broke through clearly, close to my ear. "Arche, you need to finish this now."

Her tone was firm, yet I could sense a hint of empathy she was trying to mask. She understood how heavy this was for me. She knew I wasn't accustomed to violence like this, but she also realized that in this situation, there was no room for doubt.

The man kneeling in front of me suddenly let out a harsh, desperate laugh. His gaze flickered toward the lifeless bodies of his friends on the ground, and I felt the madness in his stare. It was as if he no longer cared about life or death. In an instant, he lunged at me with desperate fervor, his trembling hands reaching for his weapon again.

"Arche, watch out!" Abigail shouted, ready to shoot, but everything happened too fast.

I was taken by surprise. My body moved at the command of the "other" self, instinct for survival overpowering any restraint I had. Before I realized what was happening, my hand was already moving, and my dagger pierced straight into his chest.

The man gasped. Our eyes met, and I felt his heartbeat fading as his breath grew ragged. I kept pushing the dagger in until his body finally lost its strength and crumpled at my feet.

I stared at him, watching as his life slipped away before my eyes. The light in his eyes slowly dimmed, replaced by the emptiness of death. For the first time, I understood what it meant to end a life with my own hands. It was more than just blood and violence. It was a torrent of fear, pain, and the unavoidable darkness that followed.

I stood frozen, my body trembling. In my mind, I struggled to rationalize what had just happened. He would have killed me if I hadn't acted. He was a threat. I had no choice. But even though all those reasons were true, it still felt wrong.

A small voice escaped my lips, barely audible. "I'm sorry…" I looked at the man's lifeless body, and my apology felt empty, devoid of any meaning that could erase what had just occurred.

My body began to shake uncontrollably. My hands trembled, and it felt as if the ground beneath me was crumbling. The death I had just witnessed felt too real. I wasn't ready to face the reality that I could, and had, killed someone. What if I were in his position? What if death came for me just as it had for this man?

Fear coursed through me. I could sense the chill of death hanging in the air around me, as if it was watching, ready to strike at any moment.

"I… I can't…" I whispered softly, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Abigail stepped closer, gently resting a hand on my shoulder. Her expression was serious, but not cold. There was something in her eyes that showed she understood what I was feeling.

"Arche," she said, her voice low but firm. "You did what you had to do. This world doesn't give us many choices. It's about survival. We can't always prioritize morals in situations like this."

I turned to her, trying to grasp her words. But my mind was filled with the haunting image of the man's death. "But… I killed him. I took his life… with my own hands."

Abigail sighed softly and then knelt in front of me, meeting my gaze. "Listen, I know this is hard. I know it's not something easy to accept, especially for you. You might not be used to violence like this. But believe me, if you hadn't acted, he would have killed you."

She paused for a moment, looking at me earnestly. "In this world, Arche, sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do just to survive. You can't let doubt control you in moments like this."

I wanted to argue, to tell her there were other ways. But Abigail's words made sense, even though my heart still rebelled. I yearned for a different world, a just and compassionate one, like I had imagined when I was still a prince in the kingdom of Evernoir. But that world had long been shattered. The world now was a cruel place, and I was a part of it—willingly or not.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "I just… don't want to become like them."

Abigail gave me a small smile, as if she had heard those words before. "You won't become like them, Arche. You still have choices. What you did was to survive, not out of a desire to kill."

I lowered my gaze to the bloodied dagger still in my hand. "I wish I didn't have to make this choice…"

"So do I," Abigail replied softly. "But sometimes, we have no other options."

I stood slowly, staring at the body of the man I had just killed. The world felt much darker than before, but I knew this was the world I had to face. From now on, I needed to be ready to confront this reality—whether it was good or bad.

***

As I sat behind Abigail, our motorcycle sped along the highway we had taken before veering onto a quiet road toward Arcadia Point. The cold wind whipped against my face, but it felt insufficient to freeze the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind. I could still feel the pressure of the knife in my hand, the sharp scent of blood, and the vacant gaze of the man whose life had slipped away before me.

I had killed someone.

The "other" self within me—the one that often surfaced in critical moments—began to speak again. Its voice was like a whisper, always challenging me.

"Arche, you know this was necessary. The world is harsh. If you don't do it, we'll die."

I closed my eyes, trying to push away the image of that man, but the voice lingered.

"We're no longer the sheltered prince of a kingdom. This isn't about the teachings of Goddess Oriana or ideal morality. This is about survival. Deep down, you know this."

I bit my lip, struggling to contain the turmoil rising in my chest. "I know... but that doesn't mean I can accept it easily."

Abigail seemed to sense my silence but still tried to engage me in conversation. "Are you okay, Arche?" she asked, glancing back briefly, trying to catch my gaze in the motorcycle's mirror. Her face looked serious, yet there was that familiar mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Uh-huh," I replied curtly, more a mumble than a genuine response.

I could tell she was unsatisfied with my answer, but she didn't press me. That's one thing I appreciated about Abigail—she never forced me.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"You know, if you keep being quiet like this, I might think you're not interested in me," she teased, her tone light as always, trying to lighten the mood.

I merely snorted softly. "I'm listening."

Abigail let out a small laugh, but I offered no further response. It felt like, despite her attempts to pull me out of my thoughts, I was too deep in my own internal debate.

"She's right," the "other" self whispered again. "There's no other choice. This world is full of monsters and humans just as wicked. If we aren't ready to fight and kill, we'll just become their prey."

I shook my head slightly, rejecting its words. "But I've always believed in the teachings of Goddess Oriana. Life is sacred. We shouldn't take someone else's life. I know there are other ways…"

"That teaching doesn't apply here. It's an old doctrine, from a world that's already shattered. You have to remember, Arche, this isn't about honor or mercy anymore. It's about survival. You saw it yourself; they came to kill us. Do you think they would hesitate?"

I fell silent, unable to respond. I knew the "other" self was right, but my heart refused to accept it outright.

Throughout the journey, I responded to Abigail only with short murmurs or nods. She clearly knew something was bothering me, but she also understood that this wasn't the right time to push me to talk. Perhaps she thought I was still in shock from the battle we had just experienced—and she wasn't entirely wrong.

The motorcycle wound along the twisting road toward Arcadia Point, but my mind felt far away. I was trapped in a conflict between the morals I had held since childhood and the brutal realities of the outside world.

"You've faced many monsters, wild beasts. What's the difference with humans, Arche?"

I paused at it's question. Until now, I had only killed creatures deemed dangerous—forest wolves, monsters roaming the barren fields, threats to innocent people. Killing them had always felt like part of my duty, but this... killing a human... this was different.

"A living being is a living being," it continued. "If their lives become a threat to us, what's the difference?"

"There is a difference," I answered in my mind, trying to calm myself. "Humans can change. They can redeem themselves. Wild creatures don't have that option."

"You're too idealistic," it replied, its tone dripping with scorn. "And idealism will get you killed."

I sighed deeply, feeling trapped in a never-ending inner war.

Suddenly, Abigail turned back again, this time with a more serious expression. "Arche, if you want to talk, I'm here."

Her tone was softer than usual. Maybe she knew I was under pressure. But I still just stared at the long, quiet road ahead of us.

"I'm just... thinking about something," I replied quietly, almost sounding desperate.

She didn't press further, just nodded while remaining focused on the road. But I knew that even though she seemed relaxed, she could read the chaos within me.

"Stop daydreaming, Arche," said the "other" self firmly. "You have to be strong. You can't keep getting caught up in old morals that no longer apply. We don't live in an ideal world."

I gazed at the darkening sky, the stars slowly emerging above the horizon. "I know," I whispered, even as resistance still stirred within me.

But beneath it all, I also realized that the "other" self, the more practical and realistic part of me, was the reason I was still alive today. Without it, I might have long been dead, trapped in doubt and helplessness.

Yet at the same time, I didn't want to lose who I truly was—the prince from the kingdom of Evernoir, who once believed in a better world, who once thought that compassion was a true strength.

Our journey continued in silence after that. Abigail occasionally glanced at me, and I knew she was worried. But I was too lost in my own thoughts to respond with anything more than a nod or a brief mumble.

One thing was certain—I had to find a way to balance all of this. I couldn't keep living in this moral confusion. Either I had to accept that the world had changed, or I had to fight to uphold the values I once held dear. Whatever happened, I knew this wouldn't be an easy journey.

"You can't keep living in the shadow of your idealism, Arche," the "other" self spoke again, more gently this time. "You will be crushed if you don't adapt."

And maybe, this time, I had to listen.

***

That night, a gentle breeze flowed through the gaps in the palace windows. I could still feel the warmth and peace in the main hall, where our family had just finished offering prayers to Goddess Oriana. My mother, Queen Grace Evernoir, led the prayer solemnly, as she always did. We all stood around her—me, my sister Ellora, and my little sister Lily—praying for the peace and prosperity of the Evernoir kingdom.

These prayers always brought me a sense of tranquility, even though sometimes I sensed a hidden weight behind the soft words and hopeful pleas we voiced. Our people relied on the royal family to lead them wisely, and behind those prayers lay a significant responsibility.

When we finished, my mother smiled gently at us and lovingly stroked Lily's head. "It's late, children. You need to get to bed. Tomorrow we'll continue our lessons, and you must be ready," she said, her tone firm yet full of love.

Lily, with her cheerful spirit, immediately jumped up and nodded enthusiastically. "Okay, Mom!" she exclaimed, dashing toward her room.

Ellora and I nodded quietly, more subdued than Lily, as was our nature. "Good night, Mother," I said before making my way to my own room. The atmosphere in the palace corridor felt quiet, with only the sound of my footsteps echoing between the tall, majestic walls.

Once inside my room, I gently closed the door and took off the robe I usually wore for prayer. But before I could truly rest, a soft knock echoed on my door.

I walked slowly to the door and opened it. There stood Ellora, my always-graceful sister, but this time there was something different about her. Her face was calm as usual, but there was an underlying restlessness in her eyes.

"Ellora? What's wrong? Why are you here?" I asked, feeling a bit surprised. Typically, Ellora rarely came to my room without reason, especially not at this hour.

She hesitated for a moment, not answering my question right away. The atmosphere grew awkward, and I stood there, waiting for her to speak. Yet she remained composed, her face revealing little emotion, even though I could sense something was being held back in her heart.

Finally, without a word, Ellora stepped into my room and walked toward my bed. She sat down, then looked at me with a soft smile.

I recognized that smile—one she wore when she wanted to talk, when she needed someone to listen. My sister, although always appearing calm and strong in front of others, sometimes felt lonely or burdened by the heavy responsibilities of being the crown princess. I had seen her come to my room like this before, especially when the weight became too much to bear.

"Ellora... are you okay?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

She looked at me for a moment before letting out a long sigh. "Arche, sit here," she requested, patting the space beside her.

I obliged, sitting down next to her, ready to hear whatever she wanted to share. We sat in silence for a moment until Ellora finally spoke in a gentle yet weary voice.

"I'm just... tired, Arche. All of this... sometimes it feels too heavy," she said, fiddling with the edges of her robe. "Lessons, magic training, diplomacy... it all feels like an endless burden."

I gazed at her, trying to give her my full attention. "I understand, Ellora. But you're doing so well. You always seem so strong."

She gave a faint smile, but it was tinged with bitterness. "Strong, maybe. But it feels like... I'm not always as strong as others think I am. Our teachers... they're becoming unfocused. The magic lessons I've repeated so many times—I already know everything, yet I still have to learn it over and over again. And politics... diplomacy... sometimes I even forget the names of important people from other kingdoms. I feel overwhelmed by all this, but I can't show weakness in front of others."

"Ellora, you're not a robot. It's okay to feel tired," I said softly. "We all have our limits."

She let out a small laugh at my words. "Yeah, but being the crown princess means you always have to be ready, right? I can't show weakness. I have to be a role model for others. But sometimes... I just want to rest. Just want to feel that freedom without the weight of it all."

I felt the pain behind her words. Ellora always bore so much on her own, rarely allowing others to see what she truly felt.

"You don't have to bear it all alone, Ellora," I said, trying to comfort her. "I'm here for you. You can share with me whenever you need to."

She let out a soft laugh, her voice almost a whisper. "Thank you, Arche. But... have you ever felt weary of all this? All the training, all the rules about how we should speak, how we should behave in front of important people? Sometimes I feel like... a puppet. Everyone watches me, judging every move I make, every word I say."

I sensed the concern behind her words. "That's because they see you as a role model, sis," I replied gently. "You are Princess Ellora, the heir to the Evernoir throne. Everyone places great hopes on you."

She sighed deeply, her gaze sweeping the room before returning to my face. "And that makes it hard, Arche. All those expectations, all that pressure. Sometimes, I want to... run away from all of this. Just for a moment."

I could feel the deep sadness in her voice. I knew my sister always felt heavy with her responsibilities. "If I could, I would help you bear that burden, Ellora."

She looked at me with bright eyes, but there was a hint of sadness there too. "You're always so kind to me, Arche. I know that. But this burden... it's mine. It's not a burden I can share. You have your own responsibilities, too."

I could only remain silent, looking at her with understanding. I knew words wouldn't fully lift the weight on her shoulders, but I wanted her to at least know she wasn't alone.

"You know," she continued, "sometimes I feel envious of you and Lily. You both seem so free. I know you have responsibilities too, but... it feels different from what I'm experiencing."

I lowered my head, feeling uncomfortable hearing her words. "I have burdens too, Ellora. But I know your responsibilities are far greater."

"That's true," she smiled, but it was a weary smile. "But I'm glad that at least tonight, I can share with you. Sometimes, I just need someone to listen. Not to offer solutions, just to listen."

I took her hand, gripping it tightly. "I will always be here for you, sis. Never hesitate to come to me."

She turned to look at me again, her smile returning, this time warmer. "Thank you, Arche. I know I can always rely on you."

We sat there in comfortable silence, only the sound of the gentle wind outside the window accompanying us. That night, I knew my sister just needed someone to listen, and I was grateful to be that person.

***