Paranoia.

In the high blades of grass, it lies in wait.

An unquenchable thirst for blood.

It preys on the weak-minded.

A single victim is all it needs.

Feasting away at the mind like a rabid animal.

Tainting every thought and action.

And when it reaches the bursting point.

That's when.

A calamity strikes.

***

"SILAS!" Prince Tristan screamed at the top of his lungs as he burst through the bronze throne room doors. At that moment, his emerald eyes became consumed with a smoldering rage that couldn't be quelled with time.

Tristan came face to face with razor-sharp cerulean blue orbs that ripped through his soul like a blade. The familiar monster, whom he used to call brother, was perched upon the royal seat where their father used to be.

Tristan's stomach churned at the sight of his beloved older brother. He could never understand how things turned out the way they did.

Silas claimed the title of emperor of the entire Western nation. Finding the name unfitting, he changed it to Ralayna.

The raven-haired man glared down at his younger brother from upon his throne, crafted of pure gold. It was upholstered with the finest royal blue velvet resting against the backrest and seat. The gold was adorned with elaborate hand-carved patterns and designs.

Silas crossed his right leg over the other, and the elbow of his right arm rested against the throne's armrest. His hand clenched into a fist as it rested underneath his chin.

Silas's cold demeanor was a sheer warning of the consequences that could befall those who stood in his path instead of alongside him. Silas ran his fingers through a couple of strands of his obsidian locks. His lips curved upward into a sinister grin.

"My dear little brother, what's all this about? Something's clearly troubling you; you seem quite upset. Please, do tell me what's on your mind." Silas asked, a hint of sarcasm lacing every word that he spoke.

His lips stretched upward into an amused smirk, his gaze unwavering as he leaned slightly forward, eager to hear the words that were about to pour out of Tristan's mouth.

"That's rich coming from you." Tristan snapped back. "You already know the answer. Do I need to spell it out for you?"

"Dear little brother, I've seemed to have forgotten; why don't you spell it out to me to make it clear so I don't happen to make a mistake," Silas replied condescendingly as his posture began to stiffen.

Tristan gritted his teeth, and his face contorted with anger over Silas's response. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about! You've got a lot of nerve; you know damn well what you've done; he was like family to us!"

"Oh, him..." Silas replied in an uncaring tone with deep-set cerulean blue eyes devoid of emotion as he sucked in a breath before releasing a small sigh.

Silas leaned back against the back of his throne. His elbows rested against the throne's armrests while he pressed the tips of his fingers together as he thought deeply. He soon glared up at his brother.

"You see, my dear little brother, there's something that you still don't seem quite to understand. That's what happens to those who oppose me or get in my way. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made to get things done," Silas said coldly.

"Sacrifices? So that's what you're calling it?" Tristain scoffed in disbelief. "You mean outright murder!"

Tristen shook his head in disgust and clenched his jaw. Tears began to well up in his eyes from a mixture of anger and sorrow upon hearing Silas's brutal honesty.

Tristan's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "To think that I used to look up to you! You're nothing but a monster!" he shouted, his voice rising with every word as tears trickled down his face.

"Wherever you go, a trail of blood follows behind you; you've spilled so much of it that your hands are stained crimson regardless of how many times you try to scrub them clean. Your own citizens even fear you because they know what you'll do to them if they even try to speak out against you," Tristan cried out while maintaining an unflinching, contempt-filled stare.

Tristain's aggressive gaze continued to burn with intensity as he spoke. "You don't give a damn about the people of this empire! They deserve better than this. They need a ruler to protect them, not slaughter them off without a second thought."

"You're not fit to rule, Silas," Tristan hissed. "Nor are you worthy of wearing the eye of Ralayna!" he bluntly replied as he firmly pointed his index finger at the gold crest lapel pin embellishing the right upper portion of the crisp white high-collar shirt Silas was wearing. Silas tended to wear an extravagant dyed royal blue silk robe embroidered with exquisite gold thread over his shirt but always left it open to avoid covering up the lapel pin.

"Oh, this tacky thing," Silas carelessly retorted as he glanced down at the pin Tristan was referring to. A mischievous grin began to form on his face as he began to recite what the pin represents mockingly. "Four interlinked hearts covered in gold with a crown placed above them to represent the union and peaceful rule of the sole four nations that exist in this world. I've always thought that was a mouthful."

Silas's eyes then began to flash with contempt. His jaw tightened as he took a slight pause before sarcastically saying, "Ah, and how could I forget the centerpiece, the eye of Ralayna, a breathtaking azure-colored stone representing the god of peace, Kallias, the most revered deity in this empire, and the wings placed on the left and right side to signify the harmonious coexistence and protection of the gods and monsters that roam the land."

As soon as Silas said this, he threw his head back as uncontrollable, maniacal laughter erupted from him as if he had lost his mind. "My silly little confused brother, don't you see, of course, I'm meant to be king; it's my birthright, but you are right about something; this pin doesn't suit me at all; in fact, it's all wrong. There should only be a single heart, not four, and the wings should be clipped off," he snickered, his eyes gleaming with insanity as he ripped the pin right from his shirt and threw it to the right of where he sat.

Tristan's eyes widened as he stared at Silas in disbelief, disturbed by his actions. "You're a madman, Silas! To think I thought that you couldn't get worse, but look at what you've become. I thought my beloved older brother, who I grew up with, was still in there, but I think I was wrong. It's like you've become someone else entirely to the point where I can't even recognize you anymore!" Tristan yelled as he stared at his brother.

A smirk became plastered on Silas' face as he continued to laugh. "I wish you could see the look on your face right now; it's priceless. That's where you're wrong, little brother; you make me laugh. I haven't changed; I'm the same person I've always been."

"You're unbelievable! You're going against everything our father stood for; if only he could see what you're doing right now, he!..." Before Tristan could finish his sentence, Silas quickly cut him off after hearing the word father even being mentioned.

At that moment, Silas's demeanor began to shift into one that was more sinister and dark, making anyone's blood run cold.

"Father is dead! He made us all suffer because he was a fool for being weak, and I won't make the same mistake!" Silas screamed.

"He ruled with kindness and compassion, and where did that get him? That's right, murdered! In the dead of night by an assassin!" Silas then slowly tried to regain his composure as he breathed heavily in and out, holding his forehead between his two fingers in frustration and annoyance.

He stared at his younger brother, his cerulean blue eyes glowing with dark intensity as he spoke in a low, menacing voice, "Now there's something I'm dying to know; listen carefully and answer me honestly, little brother. As far as I see it, there are only two types of people in this world: those who are my allies and those who are my enemies. Now tell me, my dear little brother, which one are you?"

"So, that's what it's come to... How could you even ask your own younger brother something like that?" Tristan managed to choke out. "So what if I am your enemy? What will you do to me then?" Tristan asked, his voice cracking up.

Silas remained calm and composed before replying bluntly in a voice devoid of emotion, "Well, that's an easy answer; I would simply dispose of you."

Tristan's eyes began to droop with sadness as more tears began to trickle down his face. "I can't believe this; you truly have become a monster, Silas. I see now that you're too far gone... There's no hope of saving you... I'm sorry for this brother."

Tristan grabbed a knife from his pocket, clutching it with his right hand. At that moment, he rushed full force up the few steps leading to Silas's throne to catch him off guard and not give him much time to react.

Silas let out a small gasp, his eyes widening in shock.

Once Tristan got close enough to Silas, he pulled back the trembling hand that held the knife. With all the strength Tristan could muster, he drove the knife downward to land a fatal blow, his eyes locked onto Silas's heart.