Chapter 32 - Wed Her Off
—you are anti-matter, destroying everything good and pure by your mere presence. The thought that I am forever tainted by the fact that you emerged from my body makes me wish I could burn away every cell that ever touched you. Your existence is my eternal punishment, and I curse every god and force of nature that allowed you to draw breath. If you disappeared this instant, turned to dust and scattered in the wind, it would be centuries too late to salvage what you've destroyed."
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The forest was dense, swallowing every trace of moonlight in a blanket of oppressive shadows. The air was thick, damp, clinging to my skin as the towering trees leaned close, their branches stretching out like skeletal arms. Only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant call of night creatures broke the silence, yet even these seemed muffled, as though the forest itself recoiled from our presence.
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My mother’s hands were on my face, her fingers pressed into my cheeks, her zircon blue eyes burning with a cold, crystalline rage. Her nails sank deeper with each word, slicing through skin and biting into flesh. I felt her fingertips tremble slightly, the pressure mounting until her fingers all fused with my skin, the tips digging painfully close to the bone. But still, there was no pain, no flinch, no reflexive urge to pull back.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvSJUW2CbXP
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In that moment of stillness, a single, overwhelming urge took hold of me. Without conscious thought, my lips began to curl upwards. The smile spread across my face, growing wider and brighter with each passing second. It was a smile so radiant, so intense, that it seemed to illuminate the shadowy forest clearing.
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It was a slow, deliberate smile, stretching my lips with a brightness that would have blinded a lesser soul. My eyes fixed on her, unwavering, as the corners of my mouth lifted higher, the expression an almost grotesque contrast to the fury seething in her face.
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As my mother's expression shifted abruptly, her eyes widened—not in shock at the words she’d hurled but at something else, something visceral. It was as if she had awoken from a trance, becoming aware of her actions for the first time. With a sharp intake of breath, she snatched her hands away from my face, stumbling backward as if she’d touched a flame. Her feet crunched against the carpet of dead leaves and twigs, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet forest.
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My expression softened into an unreadable mask, the smile gone as quickly as it had come. I raised my left hand, and with a deliberate slowness, brushed it against my left cheek. As I swept my hand across the skin, I felt the sticky warmth of a coating on my fingertips, and as I drew them back, they glistened red and had begun to trickle down my skin. Blood.
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Tilting my head slightly, before letting out a soft, taunting hiss. "Hmm, I don't really know you see..." The words escaped my lips in a low taunting hiss as I took a measured step forward.
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My mother remained still as I closed the distance between us, her shoulders tensing, yet she did not pull back. The distance between us vanished as I continued, my voice a chilling whisper that seemed to hang in the damp night air. "But really, I'm so grateful to you,"I said, letting my blood-streaked hand reach up to her face. I swiped the blood across her cheek, a vivid crimson stain against her pale skin. "That I feel like," I continued, reaching up to her left ear and lowering my voice as I leaned in closer, my mouth inches from her ear. My bloody hand still on her cheek, "I'm the luckiest daughter to be born to you, mother."
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I slid my face to her left cheek and placed a gentle kiss.
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Her eyes shot open, wide, filled with an unguarded shock. She opened her mouth, a strangled sound emerging, yet no words followed. Her throat worked, struggling for air, and her hands, once so firm in their wrath, now clutched her dress with both hands, fingers tightening as if to keep herself grounded. The rims of her eyes glistened, and she blinked furiously, struggling to keep the tears from spilling over.
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Her body dropped, her chest shuddering as she clamped both hands over her eyes, her shoulders hunching forward as the sobs came, soft at first, and then unstoppable. The tears slid down, mingling with her fingers as she tried desperately to hide them.
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I bent down, slowly, and reached for her hands, which were tightly pressed over her face, hiding her tears, trying in vain to hold back the flood of emotions. My fingers slipped gently under hers, prying them apart, until her hands loosened. Her wet cheeks shone beneath the shadows, and I guided her trembling hands down to her lap, letting them settle there.
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Once her hands were free, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a firm embrace. She stiffened at first, her shoulders rising with tension, but I held her tighter, feeling the silent waves of grief seep through her shivering frame and into my own.
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“I don’t hate you,” I murmured, my voice a soft echo in the thick night air. I leaned back slightly, studying her stricken face. “And I won’t either. Even if you continue to hate me, I won’t hate you…” I paused, my voice drifting lower, steady yet cold. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll love you either.” The words slipped out, precise, controlled. “Even if you have the slightest warmth in your heart for me, I want you to know that, I…...........I always.......…believed that…............................you…................were…really.......................…the best mom I could’ve ever asked for. And I’m sorry for being born into your life. And I’m sorry for everything you had to bear and sacrifice for me.”
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She gazed at me, her eyes shimmering, tears tracing a path over her cheeks faster now, flowing freely. Her mouth opened as though to speak, but no sound escaped. Instead, her arms wrapped around me, fierce and desperate. Her head fell onto my shoulder, her breaths coming heavy, the weight of her sorrow pressing into my bones as we sat there on the damp, muddy ground.
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Between her breaths, she murmured, voice thick with tears, “Luxana, I still hate you…” She sucked in a shuddering breath, her body quivering. “But listen, Kior, please… Re-establish Kior and liberate the people of Kior. That’s all I desire. Please. Please save my empire. I’m begging you…”
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I shifted, my grip firm as I took her by the shoulders, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, her tear-filled eyes so close to mine. I held her stare, the raw emotion in her face meeting my own unmoved expression. “Before I ask about Kior, the direct descendant of the Kior is still alive, right?”
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She looked at me, confused, her brows knitting. “Huh? What do you mean?”
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“Don’t tell me, there was no heir to the throne. Didn’t you have any siblings, mother?” My voice was steady, yet beneath it, the edge of bewilderment rippled through each word.
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Her mouth opened, then closed, and finally, she spoke, her voice faltering. “I…...I did. But I don’t know if they’re alive or not…” She leaned into me, her face half-buried in my shoulder, her other cheek turned down to the ground, gazing into the soil, her body slumping as though under a great weight.
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I hesitated, the questions piling up in my mind, but I knew if a question that is beyond my understanding gets answered then I could return back to the original world because that's how outsiders like me leave Omeen. And so, that means, the conversation that takes place right now must be something that is accepted by the Whisperer, the Guardian of this realm, and the reason I was brought here was definitely to hear my mother's ranting. I thought. After a pause, I finally asked, “Then… is the ability to see a vision through someone else’s eyes supposed to be a Kiorian or Dominion power?” There's absolutely no book, about Kior, and so she's the only one who can answer this. And all the Dominion books about power just focus on the Dragon Flame.
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“Vision?” She jerked back, her hands gripping my shoulders with a fierce urgency. Her eyes locked onto mine. “Vision?” Her mouth twisted, confusion flooding her gaze. “Don’t tell me you’re able to see visions?”
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I shrugged, letting my face turn slightly to the side, my gaze still locked onto hers. “And what if I’m not and someone else is?” My tone was light, dismissive, but my eyes held hers in a silent dare.
She smirked, an expression both derisive and strangely proud. “Nice try. But you can’t fool me.” Composure regained, she pushed herself up, extending a hand down to me, which I took without hesitation.
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“So, since when has this vision of yours been taking place?” she asked, her voice attempting to mask the hint of intrigue that lurked beneath her question.
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I crossed my arms, letting a hint of irritation flicker over my face. “I told you, it’s not me.”
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“Alright, so let me guess,” she replied with an air of practiced patience. HUH? Did she not hear me? I said it wasn't meee!!! I thought as I scowled, turning away, and muttered under my breath. She continued, “It’s been a few days since you’ve seen a vision.” She observed me with narrowed eyes, fingers poised thoughtfully near her lips. Vision takes place when there’s something you need to be told, and it only occurs when certain conditions are met.” I noticed her lips purse as she watched me. “And it varies based on the person,” she continued, her thumb grazing her lower lip in thought.
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“Huh? Is being able to see a Vision a gift?” I muttered, my voice carrying a hint of sarcastic disbelief. Honestly felt more like a curse when Cillain almost got me dead, I thought, turning my face away.
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“Yes, and I think for you, it must be when something deliberate is felt by Cillian,” she replied smoothly.
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“Cillian? Where’d he come from?” My voice was strained, frustration creeping into my tone. UGH, don't tell me, she's figured out everything. Guess, it's really useless to pretend play. I mused.
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Her expression softened into one of subtle knowing, a gleam in her eyes. “Stop acting like an airhead and just know that Cillian’s emotions will be responsible for your vision.”
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I shook my head, exasperated, and retorted, “Didn’t you just ask me to avoid any close association with him?”
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“I did, but—”
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My vision blurred, her form fading, her voice hollowing into echoes, and the ground beneath me spinning. I reached for her, feeling as if my body was being torn apart, but everything had already begun to fade.
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A faint whisper brushed my mind, words barely audible through the haze of darkness:
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“I’m sorry…”
*GASP*
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I jolted awake, my eyes flying open as consciousness rushed back to me. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing my room in the Moonlit Edifice with a warm, golden glow. I found myself lying on my side, facing the source of the light.
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Suddenly, a familiar voice pierced the air. "What did you say?" It was a shout, filled with disbelief and urgency.
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Another voice, softer but equally familiar, quickly responded. "Shh! Lower your voice, Calista. We can't risk leaking the information."
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The gentle clink of teacups being placed on a table reached my ears. It seemed as though someone had decided to host an impromptu tea party In my room, of all places. Precisely while I was unconscious.
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Calista, my second lady-in-waiting, spoke again, her voice a mix of excitement and concern. “It’s okay, Lyriana,” she replied, dismissive and nonchalant. "The Princess hasn't woken up in 2 days now. Oh! Isn’t it strange how the Prince went off to battle the Tons, returned exactly two days ago, and—” she leaned in conspiratorially—"it’s been two days since the Princess slipped into this deep sleep?”
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Lyriana, my first lady-in-waiting, chimed in with an odd observation. "That's exactly what the odds of the Princess waking up are!" she exclaimed, barely containing her irritation.
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I'm already awake, you fools. I thought. I remained perfectly still, not daring to make a sound or movement that might betray my sleepful state. My mind raced as I listened intently to their conversation.
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Calista's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Alright alright. So to revise the plan, the Prince wants us to trick the Princess into attending a banquet at his maternal family’s estate, and then he’ll take her to the neighboring Kingdom and wed her off to the King?"
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My heart nearly stopped. WHAT? WHAT THE FU*KING HELL? WED ME OFF? CILLIAN? CILLIAN PLANS ON WEDDING ME OFF TO A RANDOM ASS SH*T KING??????????? DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? My thoughts screamed in my head, but I managed to keep my face neutral, eyes still closed.
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Lyriana's calm voice confirmed my worst fears. "Yes, she'll be sent as a Queen candidate, if rejected, she'll be wed off to a noble in the Empire here."
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UH HUH? I SEE. JUST YOU WAIT CILLIAN. I'LL RIP YOUR SOUL APART IF THAT HAPPENS. I seethed internally, maintaining my facade of sleep.
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*Trickle*
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A trickling sound broke the tension. “Oh?” Lyriana murmured, noticing the teapot was empty. "Seems like the tea has finished. I'll go grab some more," Lyriana announced.
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“Sure. Come back soon,” Calista replied as she relaxed back in her chair.
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*Door Shuts*
The tea table was positioned right in the center of the room, surrounded by finely crafted chairs. Calista sat facing the doorway, and my bed lay along the wall, behind the table, while the door itself was directly across from it.
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As soon as I heard the door shut and Lyriana’s footsteps faded, I seized my opportunity. With cat-like stealth, I leapt from my bed, landing silently behind Calista. She sat facing the doorway, completely oblivious to my presence.
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Just as Calista raised her cup to her lips, she sighed, looking utterly bored. “I feel so bad for the Princess, it’s—” she began, closing her eyes and brushing a hand over her cheek, her head tilting back.
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I struck. Before she could even register my movement, I clamped my hand over her mouth, cutting off her startled scream. "KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-"
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Before her scream could pierce through the room, I lunged, clamping my hand firmly over her mouth. I glared down at her, pressing just hard enough to muffle her, my lips curled into an irritated smirk. Really, I was trying not to startle you, but who asked for your damn sympathy, you lemon-headed fool? I thought, my hands still pressing hard against her mouth.
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Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized the situation she was in. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disgust as her saliva touched my palm, EW, but I pressed on.
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Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she struggled against me, her muffled sobs shaking her entire body.
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Ugh. Why is everyone crying today? I thought, glancing upwards in exasperation as her teary, slobbering mess started to dampen my hand. Disgusting, I thought, but I forced myself to keep hold.
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“Alright, young lady," I hissed, my tone dripping with false sweetness. I smiled, but it was a predatory grin. “Spill the beans while I’m still feeling…charitable. What other schemes does that murderous prince of ours have up his sleeve?”
To be Continued...
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