Ascension Of The Villain

Under the gentle glow of a thousand lanterns, to quell the whispers that Easton wed Sienna without the emperor's blessing, a grand reception bloomed overnight. It bore all the signs of a meticulously crafted affair, hinting that Easton and Sienna's union was something quietly cherished, shared among the closest of kins—though only the most naïve would believe such an illusion.

The whispers lingered, filling the lavish hall, each noble guest pondering the peculiar match. Easton, once the empire's crown prince, choosing Sienna, the adopted daughter of a disgraced marquess?

In a world where titles and alliances were currency, why her?

The two couldn't have appeared more detached if they had tried. Easton was as cool and aloof as ever, while Sienna, his newly wedded bride, held court in a cluster of noblewomen far from his side, laughter ringing from their midst.

She was lost in her own world of flaunting until her smile froze the moment Iyana joined the crowd, summoned by the tittering ladies, whose expressions shimmered with thinly veiled mischief.

Elara's voice lifted, rich with jest, "Ah, Lady Iyana, without His Grace for once! Truly, I was beginning to wonder if you had sprouted roots at his side."

"Indeed," chimed Katherine, "one might say you two were sewn from the same thread these days."

Iyana waved a playful hand as she replied, "It's nothing like that. I am just a little clingy, is all." There was a faint catch in her words, a sadness invisible to the others but weighted heavily in her heart.

"Well, if you keep that up, one might still think you two were the ones newly wedded." Elara mischievouslyshot a glance at Sienna, seeking the flicker of resentment they all wanted to see.

But Sienna's expression remained placid, her practiced innocence unbroken.

Iyana's gaze sharpened for a heartbeat, sensing the other ladies' malicious intent. She was not here to defend Sienna, nor did she wish to. After all, these were the same women who had once laughed with Sienna at Iyana's expense. They all spun their webs of rumor and spite, and the irony of the situation was not lost on her.

So, she replied with sharp poise, "One could only think that if they misread the invitation card."

Her words pricked just enough to quiet the group. Plus, since she wasn't one to sugarcoat herself around people she didn't care for, Iyana swiftly turned toward Princess Althea across the room. "If you will excuse me," she said coolly, before walking toward Althea, who stood calmly instructing the imperial servants.

Behind her, the sting of her words lingered.

Elara murmured, a strange mix of envy and admiration, "She really has everything, doesn't she? Even the friendship of our future ruler…"

Sienna, sensing an opportunity and knowing how to steer the crowd's admiration back to herself, tilted her wine glass with an elegantly casual smirk. "Well, 'friend' is the only title Iyana can ever hope for. She missed her chance to become empress. Unlike some of us…" she finished, with a coy smile curling over her lips.

The ladies turned to her, their expressions shifting as she basked in the attention. There, in the gleam of her polished elegance, was the reminder of an unspoken truth in high society: power might choose favorites, but those favorites often changed on a whim.

———

What was power worth if all it left behind was an empty shell?

Sienna wondered as she watched Iyana with Vyan, the ache of jealousy simmering beneath her practiced expressions. That old bitterness flared as she saw him pour her a glass of wine, leaning in close to whisper something that lit a laugh in Iyana's eyes.

Sienna's own glass trembled in her grip, her gaze shifting to Easton, who stood aloof, utterly oblivious to the silent spectacle unraveling. If he had any sense of the impression he was making—or even cared to make one—it would have been a miracle. But Easton was too plainspoken, too rigidly upright to pretend at affection. The role of doting husband was as ill-fitting on him as a crown of thorns.

Yet none of this mattered. She didn't need Easton, not truly. His complacency suited her just fine, as had his lack of protest when she had let their marriage slip into the public eye. That had been her decision, her game, and he had simply been swept along with the tide.

The plan was simple, almost absurdly so.

Vyan's secret powers were a blade hovering over his head, and should that blade fall under the emperor's scrutiny, he would be finished. It was an easy truth, but Sienna had found another lever—a crueler one: Iyana.

She knew one thing with perfect clarity: if Iyana's life ever teetered on the edge of ruin, Vyan would risk anything to save her, even if it meant exposing the fire that burned beneath his ordinary, powerless surface.

———

The evening buzzed with laughter mingling with the soft hum of music, and the shimmer of crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the crowd. But somewhere among the chatter and charm, Sienna's silent plan was already in motion, threading danger into the evening's festivities, all aimed at one person—at Iyana.

Across the grand hall, Iyana stood with a casual elegance that somehow eclipsed even the brightest in attendance, practically glowing in her understated attire. Nearby, Vyan lingered, his gaze locked on his captivating date, laughing lightly.

"How long are you going to keep laughing to yourself whenever you look at me?" Iyana shot him an unserious glare.

"I am just thinking how composed you look right now versus how you looked last night." Continue your journey on empire

"Last night was…" she cleared her throat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, "simply an extension of celebrating with my troops at the completion of my first week as the commander."

"An extension?" Vyan chuckled, clearly entertained. "And how does that exactly correlate to you showing up at my place, drunk as a skunk?"

A faint blush appeared on her cheek. "Well, I possibly couldn't act silly in front of my subordinates, now could I?"

"So, that was why you decided to wake me up at two in the morning and sing to me how you would take over the world single-handedly?" He arched an eyebrow in amusement.

"Would you prefer me to sing to someone else?" she retorted, teasing.

"Not in a million years—"

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement near the magnificent tower of glasses that had been arranged on a grand table, each crystal goblet stacked in a balance that seemed to defy gravity. And just the next moment, there was an inexplicable wobble.

The tower tilted, a split-second away from toppling over Iyana.

But before a single glass could crash onto Iyana or Vyan could extend an arm to tug her away, she herself stepped forward, latching onto his shoulders.

The glittering shards cascaded to the floor, splintering into countless fragments around them. Yet as each piece hit the ground, it became clear that none of it had touched her. Iyana had stepped away in perfect calm.

He glanced down, caught off-guard. For a moment, he thought he wouldn't make it in time. His instinct was only a second away from using magic to stop the glasses from falling.

Before he could voice his fear, she met his gaze and spoke first. "I am okay," she murmured, adding a gentle squeeze of his shoulder as if to reassure him instead.

A sense of fierce resilience lingered in her eyes—a strength he knew was born not from magic or from anyone's protection, but from herself alone.

And there it was, the unseen flaw in Sienna's plan. She assumed that Vyan would need to use his magic to protect Iyana, but she forgot to take into account that Iyana was no fragile target waiting to be shielded; she was a storm contained within calm, a force that needed no one to guard her.

With her aura, she had instincts so sharp that almost nothing escaped her eyes and she could always sense any danger coming at her.

And upcoming cases were no different.

A few moments later, as Iyana strolled past the buffet, the cutlery near someone's hand suddenly jerked—forks and knives tumbling as if drawn by invisible strings. Their sharp edges glinted in the candlelight as they hurtled toward her.

With an effortless motion, she caught the forks mid-air and moved on as if nothing happen, while Vyan, who was standing a few feet away, arched an eyebrow at what the fuck just happened.

Next was the chandelier. The chain creaked, and then, with a final groan, the chandelier broke free, plummeting toward the floor.

But Iyana was faster. In one seamless swoop, she not only rescued herself but also the other ladies who were near her. Shards of crystal scattered across the marble, catching the light in a burst of brilliance.

Gasps and whispers erupted from the crowd, their shock painting the air, as they all theoretized—Easton and Sienna's matrimony must be cursed. Glass shattering was an ominous sign, to begin with, and here, not just one, hundreds of glasses broke on top of a grand chandelier.

Iyana smiled at Vyan, a cross between wry and assuring, and slowly approached him as he was frozen in his place.

"What the hell is going on?" Clyde spoke up, who was standing beside Vyan.

"Something doesn't feel right," Vyan murmured.

"It's just bad luck, nothing else," Iyana said.

"Or perhaps, it's just the deities showing how much of a bad omen this marriage is," Clyde joked.

"No, this is… this feels intentional," Vyan said worriedly.

"Stop trying to find meaning in everything. Not everything is a conspiracy, Vee," she asserted, her tone half-rebuking, half-playful.

Vyan hummed unsurely. "Still, to be on the safe side, we shouldn't stick around for too long."

"We need to wait till the cake-cutting," she reminded, and he groaned, earning a chuckle out of her. "For the sanity of your mind, how about we escape to shift to the side?"

"Please," he insisted, "that would be great."

Both Iyana and Clyde laughed at his plea, unaware that his hunch was totally right on the mark—someone had, in fact, been targetting Iyana.