Chapter 28: Illusions
Dense darkness engulfed Shapira, no longer a storm of emotions, but a chilling void. Lucian's and Isabelle's whispers faded, replaced by an empty thrumming in her head. As consciousness slowly crept back, she felt herself lying on her bed, her body weak and helpless, as if every muscle fiber had been torn out. The strong scent of herbal medicine pierced her nostrils, clashing with the damp smell of blankets that felt like they were imprisoning her. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt so heavy, as if weighed down by stones.
"Shapira … can you hear me?" William's voice reached her, distant but filled with desperation. His cold fingers brushed her forehead, conveying a strange warmth. The warmth, which should have been soothing, only intensified Shapira's confusion. She felt William's presence beside her, but her heart was filled with the doubts Isabelle had planted. Would William abandon her like her mother? Would William destroy her, as Isabelle said he did to Anya? These dark thoughts spun, draining her remaining energy.
*
Far from Shapira's room, in King Astellia's private study, surrounded by ancient parchments and books, the tension between William and the King reached its peak. The King, harboring deep concern, looked at William with weary but resolute eyes. The table before them was covered with military maps, but their attention was entirely focused on Shapira's condition.
"The royal physicians are at their wit's end, William," King Astellia said, his voice hoarse. He sighed heavily, massaging his temples. "Shapira's condition is worsening. There's something far beyond their understanding."
William slammed his fist on the table, his jaw tightening. "I know, Father! Isabelle's poison is eating away at her soul. We must find out how to break this cursed bond before it completely consumes Shapira." His words echoed, filled with frustration and despair.
The King looked at his son, his wise eyes radiating resolve. "There is one more place. A forbidden area in the royal library, accessible only to the King and Astellia's highest mages. There, ancient records are kept that might offer clues. About ancient magic, about reincarnation, about the phenomenon of bound souls that even I don't fully comprehend."
William looked up, his eyes alight. "A forbidden area? Why didn't you mention it sooner, Father?"
"Because the knowledge contained there is too dangerous, William. Many have gone mad just trying to understand it," the King replied seriously. "But now, we have no choice. I will give you full access. Search for the 'Whisper of the Nexus' scroll, a personal record written by our predecessor, King Astellia IV, about his encounter with a hidden sorcerer. That sorcerer is believed to have an extraordinary understanding of soul bonds and mind-altering potions. Perhaps he can help sever Isabelle's bond from Shapira."
King Astellia then handed William an intricately carved silver key. "This key will lead you to a hidden archive chamber. Never underestimate what you will find there. And remember, William, our time is running out. Lucian won't wait."
William gripped the key tightly, the weight of hope and despair crushing his chest. "I will find it, Father. For Shapira's sake." He rushed out of the room, his steps filled with chilling urgency.
*
In her room, enveloped by the night's darkness, Shapira awoke with a start. Her body trembled violently, and her fever felt worse, as if fire burned in her veins. Her room's ceiling spun wildly, the carvings of dragons and griffins above appearing to come alive, dancing in a deceptive hallucination. She tried to sit up, but her head felt heavy, and intense nausea churned her stomach. The strong scent of herbal medicine, which had been faint before, now felt piercing, mixed with a strange, metallic smell of blood, as if there were an open wound somewhere. Her phobia of blood, which had been dormant, now surged with full force, sending waves of panic through her body.
"I … I can't …," she whispered weakly, her voice hoarse. She tried to reach for a glass of water on the nightstand, but her hand trembled uncontrollably. Suddenly, her gaze focused on a small pendant lying on her dressing table. The pendant Isabelle had once given her. The pendant she wore when she first saw the vision of Isolde stabbing Anya.
The vision returned, cruelly piercing her mind. Isolde/Isabelle, with a cruel smile, stabbed Princess Anya, who was tied to a pillar. This time, Shapira could feel the pain, feel the coldness of the dagger, smell the flowing blood. Princess Anya's screams, which had only echoed in her mind before, now felt like her own.
"No! Stop!" Shapira shrieked, her voice cracking and weak. She tried to pull herself away from the vision, but the horrifying image clung to her mind. Panicking, she stretched out her hand towards the pendant on the table, whether to destroy it or simply push it away.
However, just as her thin fingers were about to touch the pendant, something extraordinary happened. A sudden wave of cold energy, like frozen air from the north pole, emanated from her palm. The pendant vibrated violently, then slowly lifted into the air, floating a few inches above the table. Shapira gasped, her eyes wide with shock and terror. She stared at her hand, then at the pendant which now spun slowly in the air, emitting a faint, eerie green glow.
"What … what is this?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. She pulled her hand back, and the pendant clattered onto the table. A new fear spread through her. This wasn't just a hallucination. This was something real, something she had caused. Was this part of the 'soul bond' Isabelle spoke of? Was she truly becoming that cursed 'Isolde' or 'Anya'?
The door to the room slid open softly, and William stepped in, his face still tense from his exhausting search in the library. He carried a scroll of ancient parchment and a small vial containing a silvery liquid. William saw Shapira sitting up in bed, trembling, her eyes wide with fear, and then his gaze fell on the pendant lying on the dressing table, which he somehow sensed was still emanating a faint residual energy.
"Shapira, are you alright?" William asked, hurrying closer. He saw Shapira gasping for breath, cold sweat beading on her black hair, and her gray eyes filled with deep horror. He felt a strange chill in the air, a remnant of the power that had just emanated.
Shapira looked at him, fear in her eyes. "I … I don't know … I … I don't know what's happening to me, William." Her voice trembled. "I saw it again. And … and … the pendant .…" She pointed with a trembling finger to the pendant now lying on the table.
William followed Shapira's gaze. He saw the pendant, and his heart sank. "You … what happened with that pendant?" he asked, his voice low. William remembered the message in the ancient scroll, about the symptoms of dark power taking hold and involuntary psionic abilities.
Shapira shook her head, tears starting to flow. "It … it floated. I … I don't know how. I … I don't understand."
Seeing the fear in Shapira's eyes, William knelt beside the bed, taking Shapira's cold hand. "Calm down, my love. It's not your fault. It … it must be Isabelle. She's drawing you in, just as the ancient texts described. Your power emanated because the bond is growing stronger."
William's words, meant to be comforting, only intensified Shapira's fear. She was a 'victim,' 'drawn in' by Isabelle. She felt increasingly out of control of herself.
*
Meanwhile, in a pavilion far from Shapira's room, Isabelle smiled with satisfaction. She was tidying her blonde hair in front of a mirror, her reflection flickering slightly, revealing a glimpse of familiar green eyes. She caressed the pendant on her neck, identical to the one she had given Shapira, but hers emanated a denser aura of darkness. She knew Shapira was struggling, and every whisper she had planted, every potion she had given, was now working perfectly.
"You will soon be mine, Shapira," she whispered to her reflection, her smile cold. "Or rather, ours."
Footsteps approached, and William stood in the doorway, his face etched with despair. "Isabelle, there's something I need to talk to you about," he said, his voice tense.
Isabelle turned, her expression shifting to perfect concern. "William? What's wrong? You look distressed."
"It's about Shapira. Her condition is worsening. She's starting to involuntarily manifest magical power. I … I'm increasingly convinced that you're right. That there's a terrible soul bond between Shapira and Isolde," William said, though every word felt like a stab to his heart.
Isabelle's smile widened, full of hidden triumph. "Oh, William, I'm so sorry to hear that. I do feel the bond growing stronger. Her soul is being pulled. Perhaps the only way is for Shapira to fully accept her destiny. To accept that she is Anya, and that she is bound to Isolde."
"Accept?" William frowned. "Accept to be controlled?"
"Not controlled, William," Isabelle drew closer, her hand gently touching William's arm. Her touch was cold. "Accept to possess power. Anya's soul is so fragile; it must unite with a stronger soul to survive. If she resists, she will break. I can help her. I can guide her to harmonize with this bond, so she no longer feels fragmented. Let her embrace her power as part of this destiny." Isabelle whispered, her words sounding like sweet poison. "You don't want her to suffer further, do you? Let me perform a small ritual. An alignment ritual. To help her understand and accept who she is. It will lessen her suffering."
William looked at Isabelle, his heart plagued by doubt. On one hand, he feared Isabelle's dangerous words, but on the other, desperation made him want to try anything for Shapira. "What kind of ritual is it?"
Isabelle smiled. "A ritual that will unite the essence of their souls. Giving Shapira control over the power that is now consuming her. Only temporarily, of course. Until we find a way to break it completely." She reassured him, her tone full of false sincerity. "Trust me, William. I don't want Shapira to suffer. We all want her to heal."
William sighed deeply, his heart breaking. Isabelle's words lodged in his mind, twisting logic. If Shapira rejected the bond, she would be destroyed. If she accepted it, she might be controlled. He was trapped.
*
Amidst the chaos unfolding in Astellia's palace, Lucian's threat took a more concrete and terrifying form. No longer just whispers in Shapira's mind, no longer just minor attacks. That night, the sky above the border of Astellia and Nymira was torn open by a horrifying dark light. Thick black clouds swirled above the once peaceful forest, and from the vortex of clouds, a gigantic projection of Lucian himself appeared. His pale, greenish-blue face radiated a contemptuous smile, his eyes like glass reflecting the darkness of the universe.
The projection spoke, its voice echoing across miles, reaching every corner of Astellia's palace, piercing the souls of soldiers and nobles. "William Valen Astellian! I see you struggling. I see you trying to protect what is already broken. That fiancée of yours… she's drawing closer to me. Her soul struggles, seeking liberation. You will never be able to save her, just as you could not save your predecessor. Your blood is weak, your love is blind."
The message was clear, a direct challenge, and an an open acknowledgment that Lucian knew Shapira's condition, knew her 'weakness'. This was a cruel psychological attack, designed to shatter the morale of Astellia and William.
William, who had just left Isabelle in a chaotic state of mind, ran towards the highest palace balcony, overlooking the border. He saw Lucian's terrifying projection, and fury burned through every inch of his soul.
"Lucian, you coward!" William roared, his voice filled with blazing anger. "You will never control Shapira! I won't let you!"
Lucian laughed, a bone-chilling laugh that vibrated in the air. "Oh, poor William. You still don't understand. I don't need to control her. She will come to me on her own. Because I am the only one who offers true power. The power to control her destiny, not run from it. She will understand. And when she does, Astellia will crumble, and you … you will once again witness the destruction of all you love."
Lucian's projection slowly faded, leaving the sky dark once more, but his echo lingered, planting fear and despair.
*
Back in Shapira's room, William knelt beside her bed, his face tense, his eyes dark with despair. He held Shapira's hand, and Shapira felt his trembling fingers. News of Lucian's apparition had reached her ears, reinforcing Isabelle's whispers about William's inability to protect her.
"Shapira," William began, his voice barely a whisper. "I … I know you're suffering. I swear I will find a way to free you from this bond. I … I won't let Lucian take you."
Shapira looked at him, her eyes filled with tears and doubt. She saw love in William's eyes, but also a crushing burden, a deep fear. She felt William's despair, and for some reason, it only made her feel more guilty. William believed she was 'possessed,' 'drawn in' by Isabelle. He believed Shapira was a helpless victim, tied to a dark past.
"William," Shapira slowly pulled her hand away. "I … I don't know what to believe anymore. Isabelle … she said I am Anya, and she is Isolde. She said we are bound. She said you … you can't protect me. That you will abandon me, just as you did Anya."
William's face fell. "That's a lie, Shapira! Isabelle is just trying to manipulate you! I would never leave you. You know that, don't you?"
But Shapira could only shake her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. Isabelle's and Lucian's whispers mixed, twisting the truth. Shapira's fear of betrayal, of abandonment, surged with full force. She felt like a poison infecting William, a burden William had to bear. William looked so hurt, so fragile, and she felt as if she was the cause of all the Prince's sorrow.
"I … I don't know who I am anymore, William," Shapira sobbed. "I … I'm afraid. I'm afraid of this destiny. I'm afraid of what will happen to me. I'm afraid I … I'll hurt you."
William pulled her into a tight embrace, his head resting on her slender shoulder. "No, Shapira. Don't ever think that way. You won't hurt me. I will protect you. I'm going to find that sorcerer; he might have the solution."
Yet, in William's embrace, Shapira felt a widening chasm. His love felt more distant, obscured by a wall of fear and misunderstanding. William was trying to protect the 'victim' he believed was within Shapira, not the Shapira he loved wholly. She felt like an object to be saved, not as a complete individual. Isabelle's words kept swirling in her mind: "William will never be able to save you, just as he couldn't save Anya. He will only use you, then discard you." And Lucian's words: "He can't protect you. But I can."
Amidst her crippling doubt, amidst the encroaching darkness, a new vision emerged, this time not from the past. She saw herself, standing between two figures. On one side, William, his face full of pain, pleading for her to stay. On the other, Isabelle, her eyes gleaming with power, extending a hand, promising strength and freedom from suffering. And behind Isabelle, Lucian's shadow loomed, his smile demonic, offering the most terrifying ultimate promise: power.
Shapira felt herself being pulled in two opposite directions. Her body felt hollow, her soul fractured. A choice she couldn't avoid, a battlefield she had to enter, and she didn't know whom to trust, or who she was amidst all this chaos. "Who am I?" she whispered again, no longer a desperate question, but a nearly inaudible cry, as if searching for answers in the void surrounding her. She felt something rising within her, not just Anya's spirit, not just Isolde's fear, but something wilder, more primal. A power she didn't yet understand, now demanding to be released, and her choice would determine everything. The door between two worlds had opened wide, and she now stood on the precipice, where truth and illusion merged, waiting to swallow her whole. She had to choose, or she would forever be a puppet of a destiny she didn't understand. And that choice, it seemed, she had to make herself, alone in the storm.