Surviving A Novel I Don't Remember: A Tutor's Guide To Staying Alive

Alaric’s eyes were fixed on Aurelian, wide with a blooming, murderous hate.

He didn’t look at the masked man threatening him from behind. His eyes were clouded, and not for one second did he imagine that it was Julian.

​"The letters..." Alaric rasped, his voice trembling. "Is it true, Aurelian? Did you keep Bellanora’s last words from me while I was bleeding for your borders?"

​Julian’s grin widened so much that his teeth were flashing in the light.

​"Ah," he mused, looking from the pale Emperor to the trembling Duke. "The plot thickens. The brother finally learns the price of his loyalty."

​Aurelian looked at Alaric, and for the first time in his life, the Emperor felt the cold breath of true consequence. He didn’t answer, and in that silence, the truth was louder than any scream.

​"Answer me!" Alaric roared, taking a step forward. The knights instinctively moved to block him, but Alaric didn’t even look at them. He looked at the throne.

​"I am the Emperor," Aurelian said, his voice finally regaining its icy composure, though his pulse was drumming against Julian’s blade. "I do what is necessary to maintain the stability of this—"

​"You did it because you were jealous!" Julian interrupted, cackling. "You did it because the only thing the Duke ever loved was someone that wasn’t you. So you killed her by silence, and then, when he fell for another, you tried to do the same with the man as well. You thought you could break him and, once again, leave Lucien with an empty heart. Now, isn’t that cruel?"

​Julian looked out at the nobles, his eyes surviving despicably.

"Look at your King. A man who plays with souls like they are chess pieces. A man who keeps his brother’s grief in a locked drawer and smirks whenever he takes a look at it. Is this who you bow to? He is a tyrant hidden behind the curtains of prosperity."

​This Julian was a master performer, and the stage was now slick with blood and betrayal. He felt the Emperor’s neck muscles corded under his knife, the Duke’s rage radiating from the floor, and the System’s chaotic energy humming in his veins.

There was a timer. It was only a matter of time before his consciousness vanished.

But nevertheless. ​He had done it. He had turned the two suns of the Empire against each other, and all he had to do now was watch the world burn.

Ah, he wouldn’t be able to watch it since this was his last chance. But still, he knew he had succeeded.

It was about time for the princess to make her move as well.

"Ahhhhh!" A bone-chilling scream erupted from the hallways, and the doors burst open. A lady-in-waiting immediately fell to her knees, her silk dress tangling over her body, after having run like her life was in danger, her face contorted with fear and horror.

She was a mess, her fingers clawing at the polished floor as if trying to pull herself away from a nightmare. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

This attracted everyone’s attention, except for the knights who were waiting for an opening to apprehend the assassin and save the Emperor.

"T-th-there... Princess Seraphina... she..." her words wouldn’t come out properly.

And then, the nightmare she had been trying to run from followed right after.

​Seraphina stepped into the golden light of the ballroom. The mourning veil was pushed back now, revealing a face twisted into a mask of ecstatic, maddening ruin.

There was something dripping from her hand. Red liquid. It was thick, steaming slightly in the cool air of the hall, painting the delicate black lace of her gown in shades of wet crimson.

She didn’t look like a Princess; she looked like a butcher who had found God.

​"I did it," she whispered, the sound louder than her lungs could allow. She heaved and then pressed the blood-slicked knife she held in her other hand to her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw with the flat side of the blade. "I finally did it!" she cackled.

Julian, still holding the dagger to Aurelian’s throat, didn’t flinch. Instead, a slow, dark satisfaction spread across his exposed lips.

He felt the Emperor’s body go rigid—not from the threat of the knife, but from the sudden, hollow realization of what that scream meant.

​Aurelian’s golden eyes flickered toward the doorway, his regal composure finally fracturing.

"Seraphina... what have you done?"

​"Darling!" Seraphina called out, her eyes locking onto the figure in midnight blue behind the throne.

She ignored the Emperor entirely, ignored all the fearful gaze directed at her, and fixed her gaze on Julian with a terrifying, cult-like devotion.

"I did it. The Empress... that stagnant, rotting flower... I killed her. I carved the sickness out of her! Haha!"

​The ballroom immediately erupted, horror etching itself on their faces.

​Nobles scrambled over one another to reach the exits, chairs were overturned, and the Golden Guards—previously focused entirely on the throne—stalled in a moment of pure, tactical indecision.

Should they protect the Emperor or get the woman who claimed to have killed the Empress?

"Very well, my lady. You’ve done splendidly!" Julian responded and then turned to Aurelian. ​"You see?" He hissed into Aurelian’s ear, his voice a low, vibrating purr of triumph. "The curtains are falling, Aurelian. Your palace is a slaughterhouse, your brother hates you, and your wife is cold meat in her bed. How does it feel to lose everything in a single hour?"

Aurelian did not answer.

"Oh, right, your children are still fine. Should we make them crippled, too, so we know the Empire is doomed?"

This made Aurelian’s eyes flare up. With this, his split mind had been settled. This... was definitely not Julian.

Julian Von Astrea would never think to harm children, especially not ones he found joy teaching.

"Now, it is your turn. Goodbye, Aurelian. See you in hell!" Aurelian gripped his fist tight on the side, doing nothing about the situation. If it was his fate to die so easily, he wouldn’t be such an extraordinary man, would he? "Why are you still so calm?"

"Because this is not my end!" Aurelian confidently said, and Julian clicked his tongue.

"Still on your high horses till the end, huh? Say hi to the grim reaper for me." Julian tightened his grip, ready to drive the steel deep into the Emperor’s throat when a massive hand clamped around his wrist.

The force was bone-crushing. Julian’s arm stopped mid-air, the blade centimeters from the Emperor’s pulse point.

He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

The sheer, radiating heat and the scent of winter told him everything. Alaric was there.