The Price of Power

3

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Princess Eydis plucked a lavender sprig and twirled it between her fingers. “Just wondering,” she murmured, “do you think Mother has a personal vendetta against anything remotely beautiful?”

Well, except for her face, obviously. The Queen of Shadows practically invented vanity mirrors.

Eydis rolled her eyes, skimming over the so-called Royal Garden—a bleak kingdom of greens, where broccoli and kale reigned supreme. Those vibrant, blooming paradises she’d read about in ancient texts? Myths, clearly.

Mary, her handmaiden, shifted awkwardly beside her. “The Queen does seem to like lavender, Your Highness”

“Medicinal benefits,” Eydis said dryly. “It’s the only reason it hasn’t been dragged to the guillotine.”

Mary’s awkward silence didn’t improve. It rang louder than a cracked bell in Eydis’s ears, forcing her to turn “You’ve been fidgeting like a guilty squirrel for weeks,” the princess said, her tone deceptively casual. “Out with it.”

Mary froze, her gaze dropping to her boots. “N-nothing, Your Highness. Truly.”

“Mary, did Archmage Swan really leave his position of his own free will?” Eydis tilted her head, her fingers absentmindedly caressing the lavender. “Or has Her Majesty started retiring people without informing them first?”

Mary’s red bun quivered as she stammered, “H-he said he wanted to travel, Your Highness. Surely you recall?”

“Did he? I seem to have no memory of such a conversation.” Eydis’s eyes narrowed. “Odd, isn’t it, that he would entrust you with his grand ambitions but fail to mention them to me, his protégé?”

The handmaiden faltered, her lips parting but no sound emerging. Finally, she managed, “Her Majesty… mentioned it herself.”

“Ah,” Eydis said, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Decrees by proxy. How efficient.” Her fingers closed over a lavender sprig, crushing it between her hands. Violet light pooled from the bruised petals, spiralling into a glowing portal.

“Take me to Mother,” she commanded.

From within the portal, a voice as lazy as it was sinister purred, “As you wish, Your Highness.”

Eydis stepped through without a backward glance. The gentle scent of lavender vanished, replaced by the cold, acrid air of the...dungeon? Its stone walls seemed to close in as distant screams echoed faintly.

Her jaw clenched as the smell of charred flesh clawed its way into her lungs. The sight before her would have driven lesser souls into retreat. But Eydis wasn’t like most people.

Still, this—this was worse than anything she had imagined.

Her mother stood like a statue ahead, her dark eyes unblinking as they bore into the thrashing figure behind the barrier. The man was both known and unknown.

Archmage Gidion Swan. His once-pristine robes hung in shreds, revealing pallid flesh stretched thin over bulging veins. His mouth gaped in a silent scream, his glassy eyes reflecting nothing but raw agony.

For a fleeting second, she wanted to look away. But she didn’t.

“Don’t blink, Eydis. Watch.” The Queen’s low voice slithered into her ear. “This is the price of Greed.”

“Greed?” Eydis growled, her eyes unwavering. “You did this to him.”

“Mind your tongue, child,” the Queen warned. “He did this to himself.”

Eydis’s golden eyes flashed with defiance. Without another word, she dropped to her knees, her palms striking the cold stone floor. Energy surged through her fingertips, sparking to life as an intricate sigil bloomed beneath her touch.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mother’s obsidian eyes remained dark.

“Binding Raven,” Eydis snarled, weaving her essence into the glowing patterns.

Mother’s arm swept out, and an invisible force slammed into Eydis. Her body lurched forward, palms skidding against the stone, the sigil flickering for a moment. Blood pooled in her mouth, metallic and hot.

“Raven?” The Queen’s voice cracked like thunder. “Foolish girl. You’ve claimed Envy, Gluttony, Sloth, and now you reach for Greed. Tell me, is there any limit to your insatiable hunger, or have you truly become the raven, scavenging scraps of power wherever you find them?”

Eydis spat blood onto the cold stone. “A raven, Mother? How poetic. You’ve always had a talent for gilding insults.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“Is it greed driving you, child?” The Queen’s gaze darkened. “Or something worse? Hubris, thy name is Eydis.”

“Coming from the Queen of Hubris herself? Spare me the irony.” Eydis’s hands slammed back down onto the sigil, willing it to glow brighter. “Or are you volunteering to join this child’s collection? You know, the same child whose debutante ball you so thoughtfully skipped, Mother.”

The Queen’s expression remained impassive, but her response was swift and merciless. A crackling blast of raw energy erupted from her outstretched hand.

Eydis twisted aside, the strike searing past her cheek. She retaliated, summoning swirling voids born of Sloth. They moved as if indifferent to the conflict, yet devoured the remnants of Pride’s assault as though it were no more than smoke.

“How creative, Eydis,” the Queen said, her lips curved into the faintest shadow of approval. “Gidion bound his soul to Greed. That is why he lives.” Her tone dropped. “And that is why he cannot.”

Eydis froze mid-breath, her golden eyes wide with disbelief. “Bound his soul?” she whispered, the words trembling on her tongue, tasting of denial. “But… he’s already its Bearer.”

“And now, he is their slave,” The Queen replied.

The truth struck Eydis like a blow. A bearer’s soul bound to a Sin ceased to be a soul; it became a conduit, a seedling of decay, a host for an unholy being waiting to emerge. And with Gidion’s immense power, the Sin born from him would rival its predecessor.

Another Greed.

Her lips trembled as she bit down hard, forcing herself to look at him. His body grotesquely contorted as if something monstrous were clawing its way out from within.

It was already awakening, feeding on the lifeblood of his arcane heart. This wasn’t just forbidden. It was apocalyptic. And time…

Time was slipping away.

But why? The question burned in her throat.

The shimmering barrier pulsed faintly, separating her from the man who had once been her mentor. Eydis reached out, her fingers grazing its surface. With a single touch, the ward dissolved into nothing, scattering like morning mist.

The Queen’s brows lifted, her surprise fleeting but unmistakable.

Ignoring her entirely, Eydis knelt beside Gidion. Her eyes roved over his face, searching—no, begging—for a glimmer of the man she had…trusted.

Hypocrite.

But the face before her was no longer his. The proud archmage who had stood beside her in the Forbidden Library, who had laughed with her over ancient texts and called her his most challenging student, was gone.

“Why?” she finally asked, her voice trembling, breaking under the weight of her grief. “Why give yourself to it? Why betray everything you fought for?”

Betrayed me. A question she swallowed, unwilling to give it voice.

For a moment, Gidion’s eyes fluttered open, drifting aimlessly. But then, just for a heartbeat, they sharpened. His gaze met hers, and in that instant, she saw something that froze her.

Not defiance.

Not fear.

Resignation.

“Why? Simple, darling,” the Queen paused, stepping closer. “His choice to bind his soul was surrender. Your ‘mentor’ is nothing more than a coward.”

Eydis didn’t flinch, refusing to give her mother the satisfaction. Instead, she turned back to Gidion, her voice softening. "Tell me the truth. What could possibly be worth throwing away everything you dreamed of? Everything we dreamed of?”

Gidion’s broken body shifted weakly. "Dreams?" his voice rang hollow, yet something stirred beneath the emptiness. "My… dreams?"

"Our dreams,” Eydis insisted, her eyes brimming with hope. She leaned closer, as though her belief alone could tether him back to reality. “You were the only one who never called them hubris. The boundaries we were going to break together. Do you remember?”

But his next words shattered her fragile expectations.

“There are things..." Gidion's words was slow, as though he carried the weight of entire worlds in his breath. "...more precious than any dream."

“More precious than—" Her voice faltered, the words unravelling before they reached her lips. A memory surfaced: Gidion’s cryptic words over the years, his enigmatic smiles when conversations turned too personal, the rare warmth in his eyes when he spoke of something—or someone—he never named. “The…sun,” she breathed.

“The sun,” Gidion rasped, his gaze sharpening as he met hers, a flicker of the man he once was breaking through. “The stars. The rain on my daughter’s face.”

Eydis’s breath caught.

“For her,” he continued, voice steady now, clarity burning through the fog of his pain. “I’d risk everything. My dreams. Even my soul.”

“Your... daughter?" Eydis whispered, the glow of her sigil sputtered as her focus crumbled. The word felt foreign on her tongue.

She hadn’t known. Hadn’t even thought to ask. Perhaps she’d never cared enough to see beyond her own dreams. Gidion Swan had carried with him a secret, a precious shard of humanity. A heart that beat not for power or knowledge, but for love.

And she, in her arrogance, had never seen it.

“It’s clear now, isn’t it? Mortals dress their selfishness as noble ambition.” The Queen’s voice was silk. “Swan's fate was sealed the instant Greed took root in his soul.”

Eydis's defiance faltered as she looked back at Gidion. Binding Greed to her wouldn’t simply kill him—it would erase him. His soul would fracture, his will would shatter, and his humanity would dissolve into the ether. It was a fate crueller than death.

And yet, letting him live wouldn’t be mercy. The unchecked hunger of Greed would grow, fester, and corrupt, spreading its poison until it unravelled everything. Mythshollow would crumble under its weight.

Her gaze drifted back to Gidion’s face. There, for just a moment, a spark flared in his eyes, as if he were silently urging her toward a decision.

Decide. Do what must be done.

Eydis closed her eyes and felt the enormity of her failure pressing down. She had fought so hard to prove she was better than her mother. Perhaps her mother had always known this. Perhaps she had always been right. About the price. About Gidion. About Eydis herself.

Hubris, thy name is Eydis.

“So, what will you do now, my gifted daughter?” The Queen of Shadows stood behind her, her voice laced with curiosity. Her dark eyes blazed with a golden fire, mirroring Eydis’s own natural hue, while her elegant fingers traced patterns of ruinous power in the air.

Eydis felt the chill of realisation coil tightly around her chest. This had been Mother’s plan all along. Letting Gidion live, letting her witness his fall. Forcing her to decide.

Mercy? It had never been mercy.

“I understand now, Mother. Your… lesson,” Eydis said, her voice laced with bitterness. “From the strongest Sin bearer to the one meant to surpass her.”

“Your mind remains sharp, even through grief. Grief for a man who betrayed your trust.” The Queen’s smirk curled into her voice. “But tell me, darling, do you have the strength to decide? Or will you abdicate even this choice to me?”

Eydis’s jaw tightened, her heart hammering in her chest. Tears refused to fall, as if even her grief had been denied. No matter what decision she made…

The ending would be the same.

The cost would be the same.

Everything.

Choice? There was no choice left.

Eydis took a breath, steadying herself, and opened her eyes. The golden fire within them burned brighter than ever.