Mate 04 - The Truth

Sage’s Point of View

The cold bite of shackles around my wrists sent shivers through my body.

I was in a cage. Again.

The iron bars were rusted but still strong, and the air smelled of damp stone and unwashed bodies.

Finn and Leena sat beside me, their eyes hollow, their bodies tense with exhaustion and silent rage.

None of us spoke. There was nothing to say.

We had been so close.

So close.

My fingers trembled as I reached for the locket beneath my torn dress. The chain was still there, but it felt heavier now.

Mira had died for nothing.

Mom had died for nothing.

A deep, suffocating rage filled my chest, coiling like a viper, poisoning everything inside me. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palm until I felt the sharp sting of broken skin.

The air was suffocating.

Sweat. Heat. The stench of bodies pressed too close together.

I could barely breathe.

I stood on the auction platform, my wrists still aching from the shackles that had been removed only moments ago. The metal had left angry red marks on my skin—a reminder that I had been someone’s prisoner before I became someone’s property.

The auctioneer’s voice rang out, clear and commanding.

“This one is strong. She will last long in the fields. Or perhaps in the palace.”

I gritted my teeth.

Every word felt like a dagger lodged into my ribs.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. My stomach churned as I felt their greedy eyes crawling over me, calculating, assessing, and deciding what I was worth.

They didn’t know that I was once a person.

They only saw a slave.

I forced myself to lift my chin, to keep my expression blank. If they wanted me to bow, they would have to break me first.

And I wasn’t going to break.

If I had to be sold, I prayed it would be to someone merciful—someone who might show me the mercy I’d never been afforded.

Then—everything changed.

The air shifted around me as if the very atmosphere had thickened, a subtle pressure weighing down on my chest. The bustling noise of the market faltered, fading into an eerie hush. It was like the whole world held its breath in anticipation.

And then I felt it. The absence of sound, the way the crowd parted like waves before a storm.

A presence. An aura.

It moved through them like a force of nature—untouchable, powerful, suffocating in its authority. The nobles in the crowd stiffened, their faces pale as they avoided the emperor in his direction, their eyes averted as if the mere thought of his gaze might shatter their composure.

I looked up instinctively, my heart pounding in my chest, and there he was.

The Emperor Alpha of the Battlerce Empire.

I froze; my breath caught in my throat. He didn’t belong here. He was an impossible vision in the heart of this filthy marketplace, standing above the smothering grime of the auction, his presence turning it all into nothing. The nobles stepped back in fear, their postures stiff, as if his mere proximity could break them.

Draped in black and gold, his attire spoke of wealth and power. But it was his movements—dangerous, predatory, graceful—that held me captive. He wasn’t wearing a crown, yet there was no question of who he was. His golden hair gleamed like molten fire beneath the setting sun, burning bright and regal.

His eyes flicked up, and they landed on me.

A chill ran down my spine. My breath hitched in my chest.

In that instant, everything went still. Time seemed to stretch out, and I could feel his gaze pierce through me. His expression, unreadable at first, slowly hardened, his face stiffening with something I couldn’t place. His body tensed, his jaw tightening. And then it happened—the smallest flicker in his aquamarine eyes.

Recognition.

I saw it then. The way his eyes narrowed, the way his stance shifted like he had just seen something—or someone—that he thought was lost to him. Not a ghost, I realized—a memory.

For a brief moment, everything around me faded, until it was just him and me.

The auctioneer, sensing the shift, fumbled over his words. “Your Majesty,” he stammered, his voice suddenly too eager, too loud. “This one—she is unbroken. Fierce. Perhaps fit to serve in your palace—”

But the emperor wasn’t listening.

He took a slow step forward, the crowd parting around him as he moved. His eyes never left mine, and I could feel his focus like a heavy weight on my chest.

I forced myself to stand taller, not to flinch, though my heart raced and my body screamed at me to turn away. But I held his gaze, not willing to show fear—not now, not with him looking at me like that.

And then, his voice broke the silence. It was smooth and quiet—too quiet—yet it rang louder than the noise of the marketplace.

“Who is she?”

The auctioneer’s voice trembled as he cleared his throat. “A slave, Your Majesty. She was captured and brought here for sale.”

The emperor’s eyes stayed fixed on me, his expression unreadable.

"Where was she captured?" he asked, his voice soft, but the words cut through the air like a command.

Why was he asking these questions? I felt my chest tighten, my fists clenching even harder, the skin of my palms burning. Was he familiar with my past? Has he seen me before? Why did I feel like I was more than just a nameless face to him?

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath, but the fear that coursed through me was thick, like an iron shackle that wouldn’t let go. He was looking at me like he was trying to place me—like he knew something I didn’t, something that made the air around us feel heavier, colder.

The auctioneer shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting nervously between the Emperor and the trembling crowd. “We don’t ask questions, Your Majesty,” he stammered, his voice faltering as the weight of the emperor's presence pressed down on him. “She was sold to us by traders who—”

“I wasn’t asking you,” the emperor interrupted, his voice a low, cutting command.

The cold weight of his words fell heavily, silencing the entire marketplace. The once lively, bustling scene seemed to freeze in place, everyone watching with bated breath, waiting for the next move.

The auctioneer's face drained of color, and he fumbled for an answer, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The emperor, however, didn’t take his eyes off me. His gaze—sharp and unwavering—was like a physical force, and it sent a chill racing up my spine.

He took a step toward me, his boots scraping against the cobblestone with an unnerving precision. I felt the crowd parting around him, their gazes averted, not daring to look directly at the emperor. It was as if the air itself had grown heavier, stifling.

And then, his gaze dropped. His eyes flickered over my features, but it wasn’t just recognition that I saw in his aquamarine eyes. It was something deeper, something darker, that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

My breath caught in my throat as I forced my lips to part, though I wasn’t sure what words would come out. “I don’t belong to anyone,” I said before I could stop myself. My voice was quieter than I intended, but it rang with a sharpness I hadn’t meant to show.

The emperor’s expression flickered, just for a moment, with something that looked like amusement. But it was gone before I could register it, replaced by a grim mask of indifference.

Then, his gaze fell to my neck.

My breath hitched, and I could feel the blood drain from my face.

No. No, he couldn’t have noticed.

But he did.

I saw his eyes darken, and in an instant, his hand shot out toward me before I could react; his fingers gripped the chain of my locket and yanked it toward him with a force that made me stumble.

The metal of the chain snapped, the sound sharp in the silence, and I gasped, my body lurching forward as the locket was pulled from my neck.

He opened and lifted it into the light, his eyes narrowing as they studied the gemstone within.

Everything changed in that moment.

The weight of his gaze felt like it pressed down on me, suffocating in its intensity. “Where did you get this?” His voice was low, but the power behind it was undeniable.

I hesitated. Something deep inside of me urged me to remain silent, but I couldn’t. The words slipped out of me before I could stop them. “My mom gave it to me.”

The emperor’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them. Then, his voice dropped even lower. “Who is your mother?”

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to acknowledge the pain that surged through me at the mere mention of her name. But the pressure in the air around me—his unrelenting gaze—compelled me.

“Reia,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “My mom’s name is Reia.”

Then, almost as if the thought had just occurred to him, he spoke again, “This gemstone . . . I gave it to someone a long time ago.” His voice had an odd finality to it as if he had shared a secret with the air itself, and now it was out there.

The words hit me harder than anything. My breath caught in my throat.

It wasn’t just a trinket.

This—this locket—had been in his possession. He had given it away. He had once placed it in the hands of someone he cared about.

My mother.

“You gave it to her?” My voice was almost a whisper, disbelief lacing the question.

The emperor met my gaze, his expression still as unreadable as ever. “Yes,” he said, his voice low but firm. “She was important to me once. But that is a memory long past.’

And just like that, I understood.

I realized, with sickening clarity, that this man—the emperor of the Battlerce Empire, the one who stood before me with all his cold indifference—was my father.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis.

“So, we had a child,” he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “You look like her, but your eyes—your eyes are definitely mine. Only the Battlerce bloodline has aquamarine eyes.” His gaze intensified, sharp as a blade. “Tell me, where is she now?”

“She’s gone,” I answered, my voice barely audible.

There was no shock. No surprise. No grief. Only a quiet understanding . . . and something colder.

For a moment, I thought he might deny it or refuse to acknowledge the truth. But he didn’t. He just sighed as if the revelation meant nothing to him, his breath long and heavy.

"I see," he said, flat and emotionless.

I see. That was it? That was all he had to say?

My chest tightened, anger swelling inside me. “That’s all? You find out you have a daughter, and you just say, ‘I see’?” My voice cracked, the fury spilling out. “You don’t even care?”

The emperor didn’t respond immediately. His eyes dropped to the locket in his hand, his fingers tracing the gemstone, expression unreadable. There was no softness in his gaze—just cold, calculating distance.

I stepped closer, my voice rising with frustration. “She loved you,” I said, my throat tight. “My mother loved you. Even when she had nothing, even when she was dying, she—”

“I never loved her,” the emperor interrupted, his tone as cold as stone.

The words hit me like a physical blow. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I didn’t know what I had expected—maybe denial, maybe anger, perhaps even a hint of regret. But there was nothing—just cold indifference.

“Your mother was nothing to me,” he continued, his eyes growing harder, like unyielding ice. “A fleeting moment. A memory I’ve long since forgotten.”

His words cut deeper than anything I had imagined. I had hoped, foolishly, for something—anything—that showed a spark of care, even if it was just a trace. But there was nothing. Not a hint of emotion. Just the finality of his cold dismissal.

He had never loved her. And he never loved me.

The room spun, the world around me distorting, as the anger that had been building for years surged up like a tidal wave. It was uncontrollable, blind, and overwhelming. Every inch of me screamed for retribution, justice, and something—anything—that would make him feel the agony he had caused.

I lunged at him, my body trembling with the force of my rage. But before I could even get close, the guards were there, hands like iron shackles, seizing me and holding me back. I struggled, fought, thrashing against their grip as they dragged me away from him.

“You’re lying!” I screamed, my voice raw and desperate, the words ripping through the air like a knife. ‘She waited for you! She—she believed in you! She died because of you!”

My chest heaved, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as I tried to break free. But he didn’t even flinch. His eyes flickered briefly to the guards, and with a single, dismissive wave of his hand, they released me. I stumbled forward, the force of my anger propelling me into his suffocating presence.

The emperor was a towering wall of indifference, cold and unyielding, and his voice, when it came, was like ice. “Your mother was weak,” he said, every word devoid of any warmth. “She was foolish to think I would ever come back for her.”

Tears burned at the edges of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Instead, I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms, fighting to hold myself together, to not break.

“You should have died instead of her!” The words spilled out of me before I could stop them, the venom in my voice cutting through the space between us.

For the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes—amusement, like I was nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. The contempt in his gaze only fueled my fury.

“And yet, here you are,” he said, his tone mocking, as if I were just another inconvenient puzzle piece in his grand scheme.

I wanted to scream. I tried to claw at him, to make him understand the pain, the loss, the fury that consumed me. But he was already turning away, dismissing me as easily as he had dismissed everything else. The conversation was over.

He held the locket up again, examining it with a detached, clinical gaze before clicking it shut and dropping it into my hands with all the care of discarding an insignificant object.

“Prepare her,” the emperor ordered coldly. “She will be brought to the palace.”

I froze, the blood in my veins turning to ice. What?

I had expected punishment. I had expected to be thrown into a dark, damp dungeon, forgotten and ignored. But this? This was something else entirely.

I looked up at him, my voice trembling despite myself. “Why?” I whispered, the word escaping my lips before I could stop it. “Why take me with you?”

His eyes met mine, colder than I ever could have imagined, and in that moment, I saw only calculation—no warmth, no care, just the unfeeling gaze of someone who saw a tool, not a person.

“Because you are my daughter,” he said, his voice flat and lifeless.

There was no pride, no affection—only the cruel reality of someone who cared only for how I could be used.

“And a daughter of the Battlerce Empire should know her place.”

The words cut through me like a blade. My stomach twisted in disgust. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t care that my mother was dead.

He only cared about how I could serve him, how I could fit into his plans.

Before I could say anything more, the guards were already moving, seizing my arms and forcing me forward. I tried to resist, to fight, but it felt like the world was slipping through my fingers—like everything I had ever known was vanishing.

I turned my head one last time, my heart shattering as I looked at the man who had destroyed everything my mother had ever loved. He wasn’t even looking at me anymore. I was nothing more than an inconvenience, a pawn to be moved.

I clenched my fists so tightly that my skin burned with the pressure, but my resolve hardened. He may have won this round. But he wouldn’t keep me. Not forever.

One day, I would make him feel the weight of every choice he had made.