Greed: Part 4

Chapter Four: The Seeds of Doubt

The days grew long, the air grew light,

No longer bound by bitter night.

For though his heart had once been torn,

Lucian found his soul reborn.

Not love, not yet, but something near,

A warmth within, both bright and clear.

For Eleanor, with steady grace,

Had carved a home within his space.

She did not plead, nor asked for much,

Yet love was woven in her touch.

A simple laugh, a fleeting glance,

A whispered thought in passing chance.

And though the past still lingered tight,

He felt a shift—an inner light.

But fate is cruel, and shadows call,

For love once scorned will see its fall.

Beyond the gates, in night’s embrace,

A phantom walked with vengeful grace.

Selene had sworn to leave behind

The man who once had called her “mine.”

Yet love denied is love in chains,

And fury grows where passion wanes.

She could not stand, she could not bear

To see him gaze at Eleanor fair.

So in the dark, a plan was spun,

A whispered lie—a war begun.

She found him lone, in halls of stone,

A king enthroned, yet not alone.

For though his heart was still unsure,

She saw the signs—he’d grown impure.

Impure with love, with something new,

A shift in fate she always knew.

So with a tear and trembling lips,

She wove her lie with poison’s kiss.

“My love,” she sighed, her voice so low,

“There’s something you must come to know.

I left in grief, I let you be,

But truth has now been shown to me.”

Lucian turned, his brow was tight,

His heart still torn by wrong and right.

“What truth?” he asked, his voice was strained,

For love once lost still left its pain.

Selene stepped close, her gaze so weak,

A perfect mask—a cunning streak.

“I wished you joy, I wished you well,

But love deceives, and hearts rebel.”

She hesitated, let tears fall,

Then whispered low, “She loves not at all.”

Lucian froze, his breath went thin,

A chilling doubt began within.

Selene sighed, her fingers shook,

Then placed in hand—a forged book.

“Letters, love—so cold, so plain,

From Eleanor’s lips, so sharp, so vain.

She writes of wealth, of lands, of gain,

Not love, not you—just gold’s domain.”

His hands turned pale, his mind was torn,

For trust once bright was now forlorn.

Had he been blind, had he been fooled?

Was love just chains, was he a tool?

Selene turned, her task was done,

A seed was sown, a war begun.

For though her heart was filled with spite,

She knew love bends beneath the night.

Eleanor stood, so unaware,

A heart still kind, a love still rare.

Yet when he gazed upon her face,

No warmth remained—just empty space.

She spoke, she smiled, yet in his eyes,

She saw the cold, she felt the ice.

“My lord,” she asked, her voice sincere,

“What troubles you? What brings you here?”

He hesitated, words ran dry,

For in his chest, a war ran high.

Should he believe? Should he accuse?

Or was the lie too thin, too loose?

But love once burned leaves bitter scars,

And doubt will hide where truth unbars.

So though his lips held back the claim,

His silence screamed, it spoke her name.

And Eleanor, though proud and wise,

Could see the shift behind his eyes.

A game was played, a war was spun,

And trust now burned beneath the sun.

A heart once warm, now draped in doubt,

Where truth is lost and love burns out.

Yet lies, though sharp, will face their day,

For fate will always find its way.

But love once questioned turns to dust,

And hearts once torn may lose their trust.

To be Continued

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