Ascension Of The Villain-Chapter 300: When The Sun Lost Its Light

Althea's head whipped around to Sienna, who stood smugly, her expression far too satisfied for someone who had no way of getting out of here alive.

"Did you do this to him?" Althea asked, her voice dangerous and trembling with fury.

Sienna grinned like the devil in a ball gown. "Of course I did. Who else could have? Mind-control is my specialty, dear sister-in-law." She casually blew on her nails, inspecting them like this was still a celebratory banquet and not a battlefield soaked in blood.

Althea's jaw clenched, blood roaring in her ears. "There's no way you could control him," she spat.

She knew Clyde. She knew how deeply anchored he was. His mind was like a fortress—layered, sealed, reinforced. He wasn't someone who could be swayed, let alone manipulated. He had been her rock during her worst storms. He was always standing firm and solid when even she wavered.

If Sienna had gotten to him, then…

Then she hadn't just tampered with him. She'd shattered something inside him. Cracked him from the inside out.

What did she say to you, Clyde? Althea's chest squeezed. What did she show you to make you fall like this?

The grief twisted into something hotter. Wilder. Angrier.

How dare that girl?

Althea's light magic surged. A dangerous sword, radiant and seething with pure fury, formed in her hand; its blade hummed with the wrath of a goddess betrayed.

Her steps were heavy as she marched toward Sienna. "If you really are responsible for Clyde's condition," she said, voice like thunder, "then I just have to get rid of you."

Sienna only scoffed, unfazed. "I'd like to see you try."

Then she tilted her chin, almost lazily, and gave her command.

"Kill her, Clyde."

Before Althea could react, wind screamed around her.

Invisible ropes of air lashed around her limbs—tight, vicious. Her arms and legs were yanked upward, then her whole body was lifted off the ground, suspended in a howling vortex of wind.

The pressure increased, squeezing her body, crushing her bones from all directions. She struggled to breathe as her ribs groaned under the force.

"Clyde!" she shouted, struggling against the gale. "Stop—"

Cutting her off, Sienna's voice rang out, laced with venomous delight. "And after that… kill Vyan too."

Althea's body convulsed against the invisible binds as the wind began to crush her. "You won't get away with this!"

"Oh, I will. Meanwhile…" Sienna smirked, her voice as cold as the grave, and mocked, "Taste the pain of being killed by your own loved one, Your Imperial Majesty."

The winds shrieked like a thousand tortured souls as they coiled around her body, each swirl squeezing tighter, crushing bone against bone.

Althea writhed in midair, her scream barely piercing the howling storm. "Clyde!" she cried, her voice raw with desperation. "Please stop! Please… it's me! It's your Athy!"

But there was no response.

No flicker.

No tremble in his hand.

Only the dead, merciless force of the tornado closing in.

"Clyde, please! Love, listen to me," she pleaded, pain cracking through every word. "It's me…"

The whirlwind tightened like a vice. She felt her ribs snap—one, two—then the bones in her shoulder gave in with a sickening crunch. Her body trembled violently as her limbs bent under pressure that was clearly not meant for the flesh to handle.

Blood bubbled in her throat, her vision darkening.

Her strength was fading.

Her hope… splintering.

As her body screamed and her soul hovered between the edge of life and death, a memory surged through the haze. It was soft, glowing, like moonlight breaking through storm clouds.

The garden.

That cold evening when she had first met him.

He had been standing amidst the roses, cloaked in quiet, like a misplaced echo in the dark, as if he didn't belong to the night at all. And then he saw her. Truly saw her.

And in that fleeting breath, his gray eyes lit up. As if he had been waiting his whole life for her to appear.

Those eyes didn't light up like stars, but like the sun had cracked open inside him. Brilliant. Fierce. The kind of light that didn't just glow—it claimed everything it touched.

And now those same eyes… stared at her, empty. Void of all warmth. Hollow.

Back then, it had been so obvious.

He had fallen for her at first sight.

She had known. Of course, she had known.

But she had pretended not to. Looked away every time his gaze lingered too long. Brushed off the tenderness in his gestures. Ignored the flowers he bought for her almost every time. Didn't acknowledge his flirting—sincere and wholehearted, like nothing else mattered in the world, if only she spared him a glance. She feigned not to acknowledge any of his efforts.

Because she didn't want to melt. Didn't want to fall. Not again.

Not after the last time.

Not after how love had broken her.

But Clyde… he had been patient. Consistent. Annoyingly so.

And slowly—so painfully slowly—he had cracked through the walls she thought were impenetrable.

She wanted to scream.

Because just hours ago… just earlier that very evening… She had looked him in the eye before the entire nobility—and without using the word love, she had proposed a lifetime.

A future.

She had taken his hand and claimed him as her partner, not just as a fling but as her equal. Her chosen one. Her forever.

They were supposed to rule the empire together.

They were supposed to grow old together.

Things were supposed to be perfect.

Vyan and Clyde must have taken so many precautions. Planned everything. Strategized, secured, shielded.

And yet—one slip.

One blind spot.

One snake slithered through the cracks they thought they'd sealed.

Sienna.

And she wrecked everything.

Tears threatened to spill, but the wind tore them away before they could form.

Now, with her bones shattering and her breath slipping from her lips like fading starlight, she closed her eyes and whispered, voice trembling, soft, rueful, "Do you know, Clyde… how hard I tried not to let you into my heart?"

A tear slid down her cheek, cutting through the blood that covered her mouth and chin.

"Do you know how much I struggled to accept what I felt for you… because I really didn't want to fall in love again… not after what happened last time…"

A pause, just long enough for the storm to grow louder.

"But I was really glad I did."

Sienna rolled her eyes and scoffed. "There's no point in telling him all this. He can't hear you. He's not there anymore."

Althea didn't even look at her. She didn't care.

Because this wasn't for Sienna.

This wasn't even about whether it would work.

This… was her truth.

"I was so happy to love you," she whispered, voice breaking. "And to be loved by you—you, who is so impossibly wonderful."

A soft sob escaped her lips, almost lost in the storm.

She may be the one to wield light magic, but Clydewas the true light—radiant, golden, impossible to hold.

He was the sun in her shrouded world, the warmth in her winters, the laughter in her silence.

Clyde had a kind of ethereal magic that wasn't loud, it was lived. He filled rooms with joy just by being in them, as if happiness naturally gravitated to him.

Chirpy, extroverted, hopelessly unpredictable. He did things on a whim and wore spontaneity like a second skin. Like the wind, he moved freely, unrestrained, untamed—but always with intention when it came to her.

He cracked jokes in front of the scariest nobles without blinking. He would yank her out of bed at ungodly hours just to watch the sunrise because, in his words, "the sky's putting on a beautiful show and you're the only person worth dragging along." He'd burst into her study mid-scroll, announcing, "I hunted down the most ancient, weird-smelling bookshop in the city," and brought her back armfuls of books—selected solely because "the titles sounded unhinged and you would probably love that."

He didn't care for reading, said books made his head feel like it was stuffed with fog, but he remembered every author she mentioned, every genre she loved.

He lived life like it was an unfinished spell—chaotic, brilliant, full of detours—but somehow, she had become the incantation that grounded it all.

And still, despite all the chaos and joy he brought, Clyde never once let his own sorrows spill too far. He carried his burdens lightly, tucked away behind that bright smile and unshakable optimism.

He was loud and bright, yes, but when she cried, he was soft and still.

When she doubted, he believed.

And when she was too broken to hold herself together, he never once asked her to. He just held the pieces until she could breathe again.

He healed things he didn't break. Taught her how to trust again, how to live again.

Her voice cracked as her bloodied lips formed the words, "I have no regrets. Even now… even as you kill me… I don't hate you. I never can."

Her body convulsed worse than before as the wind constricted tighter, but she pushed through the agony and raised a trembling hand from within the storm. She wanted to try and reach him.

"But please…"

Her fingers stretched toward him, desperately searching for warmth, for connection.

And then… unexpectedly… he stepped forward.

Just enough.

Just enough for her hand to touch his cheek.

Her skin brushed against his—cold, as if the sun had lost its light.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, part relief, part resignation. The light in her eyes didn't dim, though.

"When you do come back to your senses… my love… please… please, don't hate yourself too much." Her voice was barely a whisper now, tender and broken. "This wasn't your fault. This was never your fault. You would never hurt me if you had control. I know that. And I hope… I hope you'll know that too."

Her thumb barely caressed his cheek as her strength faded.

"And one more thing…" A soft smile, peaceful and sad. "Thank you… thank you for being by my side. For helping me reach my goal. For supporting me unconditionally. Thank you, Clyde, for loving me so much…"

Her hand slipped from his face, falling like a wilted petal.

But it never reached the ground.

Fingers—his fingers—caught it. Gently.