Warning! This chapter includes disturbing content and may be upsetting to some readers. Please take care while reading.
An epigraph:
"In the crucible of cruelty, a fragile soul is remade—one scar, one sorrow, each step forging the darkness within."
The time was now meridies..
Caligula sat atop a high cliff, overlooking the sea.
One foot dangled in the air, the other tucked beneath him, propping up his head—like a lost child.
The emperor's villa loomed just a few steps behind, a presence he could feel even without turning.
His eyes stayed on the cruel waves, though his mind was miles away.
The wind was hot, but soft.
It tousled his blond hair like fingers that didn't belong to him.
He could smell the salt in the air.
The sea—strong, clean, already familiar.
His face was still. Quiet.
But his back ached.
His lip was split.
One eye swollen.
Turning purple.
A red hand print lingered on the circle of his neck.
It stung when he breathed.
He remembered what happened earlier—after everyone in
