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November 1968 - Huis ten Bosch — Gazebo by the Lake
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The moon hung low.
The lake barely rippled under the frozen wind.
The gardens stretched out, empty and dead.
The old gazebo — once a place of music and laughter —
now loomed like a forgotten monument.
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The Admiral stood there.
Waiting.
Silent.
Coat heavy on his broad shoulders.
Hands clasped behind his back.
Unmoving.
Unforgiving.
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Across the brittle grass —
Selene walked.
Silent.
Small.
Barely twelve years old —
And already carrying a weight grown men would have drowned under.
Her face blank.
Her steps steady.
In her hand —
the wooden knife.
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She climbed the gazebo steps.
Stopped in front of him.
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Without words, she held the knife out.
Palm up.
Offering it back.
The weapon of her first betrayal.
The token of her first irreversible sin.
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The Admiral looked down at it.
Not impressed.
Not surprised.
Just tired.
He saw the faint scratches on the blade.
The darker stain along the grain of the wood.
He smelled the bleach where she had scrubbed it clean.
He knew.
Knew everything.
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"Congratulations."
"You're a killer now."
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Selene didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
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The Admiral leaned against the railing.
Looking out at the dead garden.
His voice was low.
Rumbling like a storm gathering over ruins.
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"Since you're old enough to kill, you're old enough to hear the next truth."
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Selene's red eyes — blank — locked onto him.
Silent.
Waiting.
Needing.
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The Admiral spoke slowly, each word another dagger:
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"Your mother's death..."
"Was not an accident."
"Not a sickness."
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He turned his head slightly.
Looked her straight in the eyes.
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Selene's breath hitched.
A crack.
Small.
Silent.
But a crack all the same.
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The Admiral continued.
Merciless.
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"The one who agreed..."
"Was your father."
"Emperor Valerian Aetherwald."
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The world shifted.
The night leaned in.
Selene's fingers curled into fists.
Her body trembling — not from cold.
From rage.
From betrayal so deep it burned her bones.
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But the Admiral wasn't finished.
He lifted the wooden knife again —
spun it once between his fingers.
And then —
Pointed at himself.
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"And the man who delivered the order..."
"Was me."
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Silence.
The stars themselves seemed to hold their breath.
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Selene stared.
Frozen.
Disbelieving.
The one man she thought might understand.
The only one who taught her to survive.
The last figure left standing after her mother's grave cooled.
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The wooden knife slipped back into her hand —
Gripped tight.
Shaking.
Breathing.
Burning.
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She looked at him —
Not as a mentor.
Not as a teacher.
Not even as a soldier.
But as another enemy.
Another soul she had trusted — and who had betrayed her.
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The night creaked.
The lake froze over.
The world split apart.
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And for the first time —
Selene realized she was truly, utterly alone.
Selene stood there —
Knife gripped so tightly her knuckles went white.
Tears flooding down her cheeks.
Her mouth open —
But no sound came out.
No scream.
No cry.
Only silence.
Utter, unbearable silence.
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The Admiral watched her.
His face — unreadable.
A hardened soldier.
A broken weapon.
A man who had seen kings fall and cities burn —
And yet even he —
could barely stand to see this.
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Selene's chest heaved.
Her body trembled.
Her eyes lost.
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And then —
something gentle.
Something not from the world of knives and blood.
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A touch.
A warmth that wrapped around her shaking frame.
Arms — soft, familiar —
embracing her.
Holding her together when her soul was trying to scatter into the wind.
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And a voice —
Not loud.
Not commanding.
A whisper.
A whisper that carved itself directly into her heart.
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"It is enough."
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The Admiral didn't flinch.
He knew.
Knew what clung to this girl's ruined soul.
Knew who still lingered by the lake.
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He knelt before her.
Arms wide.
Pulled her into him —
not like a general seizing a soldier,
but like a father who had failed everything except this final moment.
Selene collapsed against him.
Sobbing.
Breathless.
Mute.
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And as she broke against his chest,
he spoke the next truth —
Low.
Heavy.
Final.
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"There are forces greater than the Empire."
"Your father — Valerian — is a puppet."
"I... was a puppet too."
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He closed his eyes.
Felt the small frame shaking in his arms.
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"The only reason I'm still breathing..."
"Is because once, long ago — your mother..."
"Tatiana — didn't let me die."
"She gave me mercy I didn't deserve."
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Selene shook harder.
Her fists beating softly against his uniform.
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The Admiral's voice hardened — not cruel, but urgent.
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"You must become stronger."
"Stronger than your mother."
"Stronger than me."
"Stronger than this empire that eats its own children."
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The snow began to fall.
Silent.
Cold.
Infinite.
Dusting her brown hair.
Filling the broken spaces between heartbeats.
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And then —
The final lesson.
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The Admiral's hand gently cupped the back of her head.
He leaned in.
Whispered:
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"End me."
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Selene froze.
The wooden knife slipped from her fingers —
Clink.
It hit the floorboards.
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She knelt in front of him.
Shattered.
Silent.
A ghost still shaped like a girl.
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Snow drifted through the gazebo, carried by the lake's sighing breath.
Selene's hands trembled.
Her vision blurred.
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And then —
again —
the whisper.
That same familiar, fragile whisper.
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"Enough..."
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Selene lifted her eyes.
Tears blurring the world into smears of silver and white.
And across the frozen lake —
she saw her.
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Tatiana Romanov.
Or the memory of her.
Or the soul the Empire had failed to destroy.
Standing barefoot on the ice.
Hair whipping in the wind.
Hands pressed together.
Begging.
Not in anger.
Not in command.
Only... pleading.
Pleading for her daughter to stop staining herself further.
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Selene sobbed.
Falling forward onto her hands.
The snow soaking her sleeves.
The wooden knife abandoned between them.
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She could not kill the last man who told her the truth.
She could not kill the only broken soldier who knelt to her.
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She could not...
not yet...
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The Admiral stayed silent.
Letting her grieve.
Letting her survive.
Letting her choose mercy — even in a world where mercy was extinct.
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Two broken figures.
One cursed empire.
And a ghost still watching from across the ice.
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The snow fell softer now.
Blanketing the night.
Muffling every sound.
Selene's small hand reached out.
Fingers trembling.
She grabbed the wooden knife lying between them.
Lifted it.
Stared at it.
Stared at him —
The man who forged her into something the world would one day fear.
Her mentor.
Her betrayer.
Everything he had made her into.
Everything she could never unmake.
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Selene turned.
Took three broken steps.
Reaching the edge of the gazebo —
where the frozen railings moaned against the winter.
She raised the wooden knife —
Higher.
Higher.
And then —
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She threw it.
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The blade spun, weightless, across the night.
Cutting the snow.
Cutting the dark.
Cutting the invisible chain still binding her to this life.
It slipped into the lake.
Silent.
Gone.
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Selene
Frozen feet slipping forward.
Her balance lost.
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She fell.
Tumbled over the edge —
into the lake.
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The water swallowed her instantly.
Blue.
Cold.
Endless.
Her body sank —
slowly.
Inevitably.
The surface faded above her.
The stars blurred.
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She did not fight.
She did not kick.
She let herself drown.
Surrounded by cold, and yet—
Inside her chest—
It was warm.
A warmth not from life,
but from the memory of a mother who once held her hand in gardens filled with light.
A warmth of a time before betrayal.
Before blood.
Before knives.
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Time itself stopped.
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Above, on the creaking gazebo —
The Admiral stood alone.
He removed his officer's cap.
Placed it carefully on the railing.
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His voice — low, lost to the falling snow —
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"The final lesson has ended, Selene."
"It is goodbye."
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He knew she wouldn't die.
Not yet.
Because the world had already marked her for a fate worse than death.
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He turned away.
Without pride.
Without ceremony.
And as he did—
He saw her.
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Tatiana Romanov.
Or the shape of her.
Standing at the edge of the garden.
Smiling gently.
Forgiveness.
Love.
Sorrow too deep for mortal language.
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The Admiral choked.
Raised a hand to his face.
Covering it.
Hiding the tears that streamed down without control.
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"You are so cruel, Romanov..."
"You saved me once..."
"And now, you make me break the only promise I ever kept."
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His voice cracked.
Lost.
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"I fulfilled my oath."
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And then —
he vanished into the snowfall.
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Nearby guards, hearing the commotion, rushed to the lakeside.
Diving into the freezing water.
Dragging Selene's limp body out — gasping —
shivering —
but alive.
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But the man who once taught her how to survive was already gone.
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The Next Morning — News Across Aetherland
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"Tragic Accident at Midnight —"
"Great Admiral Willem van der Decken Fallen."
"Vehicle struck by express train on Antwerp Crossing."
"Car exploded on impact."
No survivors.
No remains to bury.
Just another ghost erased by the empire he once served.
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But Selene would remember.
Not with words.
Not with songs.
Not even with tears.
But with the silence between her heartbeats.
Where the last pieces of kindness drowned.
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