Chapter 29: The Guide's Whisper
The thick darkness that had swallowed Shapira since last night now felt like binding mud, shackling her every move. The choices laid out before her, William, Isabelle, Lucian, were no longer vague visions, but an oppressive reality, each pulling her with a different force, tearing her soul from within. She lay in bed, her body trembling violently, not from a burning fever, but from an unbearable emotional turmoil. Every breath felt heavy, as if even the air refused to enter, filled with confusing whispers between truth and illusion.
*
Deep within the hidden corridors of the palace, William moved in silence. The intricately carved silver key his father had given him felt cold in his grasp, the weight of hope and despair crushing his chest. The scent of dust and dampness greeted him as he opened a secret door behind a worn bookshelf, revealing a spiral stone staircase that plunged downwards, into the belly of the forbidden library. There, amidst yellowing parchment scrolls and thick, leather-bound books, lay a secret that might save Shapira. Or, perhaps, destroy her.
He lit a small lantern, its light dancing among stacks of ancient archives. The scent of decaying paper, dried ink, and something faint, like long-dormant magical energy, filled his senses. William scanned the shelves, searching with keen eyes. Every title he read felt alien, speaking of ancient rituals, invisible entities, and forbidden histories. Finally, on a hidden shelf behind rows of ancient Astellian history tomes, he found a scroll that appeared older than the others, bound with a faded black velvet ribbon. "Whisper of the Nexus," was written there, in elegant but fragile script.
William carefully unrolled it, the parchment creaking softly. His eyes traced the ancient script, each word feeling like a whisper from the past. The notes detailed cases of 'soul sickness' similar to what Shapira was experiencing, memory loss, hallucinations, personality changes, and the emergence of involuntary powers. However, the author, King Astellia IV, clearly stated that it was not a sickness. "This is a soul bond," he wrote, "an intertwining of ethereal energy that connects two or more souls, often due to the intervention of dark magic or a curse involving the transfer of memories and spiritual essence."
William frowned, his heart pounding. He read further, finding descriptions of how such a bond could be strengthened, how the weaker soul could be dominated by the stronger. "If one of the souls is a reincarnation of a soul bound in the past," the scroll continued, "the bond will intensify, seeking reunification, even if that unification could mean destruction for the new soul. Involuntary powers are an indication that the bound soul is struggling for dominance or release."
Then, he found a paragraph that made his blood run cold. "A sorceress known as Isolde once attempted a similar ritual in ancient times, seeking to bind her sister's life essence into herself for power. The tale ended tragically, with both souls destroyed." There were several vague marginal notes, mentioning that Isolde possessed extensive knowledge of soul transfer magic, often employing potions that weakened the target's will. It didn't take William long to realize who was being referred to. Isabelle. He clearly saw Isabelle's cruel manipulation.
"Isabelle," William murmured, his voice a furious whisper. "You dare to play with Shapira like this?" His hands clenched, his teeth gritted. Now, he knew. Isabelle was no savior. She was a villain, a traitor toying with Shapira's soul. The scroll mentioned a 'spiritual antitoxin' or a 'release ritual' that could sever the bond, but the process was extremely dangerous and required immense purity of intent and strength from the healer.
*
While William delved into the truth, Shapira sank deeper into the maelstrom of illusion. Her fever raged, and every heartbeat felt like a hammer striking her eardrums. She tried to close her eyes, but her vision grew sharper, more focused, more real. This time, it wasn't just random flashes, but a flowing narrative, as if she were Princess Anya, directly experiencing the events.
She saw Isolde, not the gentle Isabelle, but a younger Isolde, with the same sweet smile, yet her eyes glinted with calculation, speaking to Anya. They were in a lush palace garden, flowers blooming, but Shapira felt a cold aura enveloping her.
"Princess Anya, you look so weary," Isolde said, her hand clasping Anya's. Her touch felt cold and gripping. "Let me help you. There is an ancient potion that can calm your soul, make it stronger. It is a legacy from our ancestors, a secret only our family knows."
The vision continued. Anya, appearing extremely fragile and distressed, nodded in agreement. She watched Isolde pour a silvery liquid into a crystal cup, offering it to Anya. "Drink, Princess. This will help you forget the pain and confusion you're experiencing. It will align your soul with your destiny."
Shapira felt a bitter sensation on her tongue as Anya drank the potion. Then, the vision skipped. She saw Isolde performing intricate hand gestures before a weak Anya. A faint green light emanated from Isolde's fingers, seeping into Anya's body. Isolde's words sounded like a gentle whisper, but felt like a piercing dagger. "Now, your soul will be bound. Power will flow within you, but you must accept it. Do not resist. Resistance means destruction."
A sudden pain pierced Shapira. Not physical pain, but a soul-ripping agony. She felt her soul being pulled, as if an invisible rope was tying her to Anya's essence, and then to Isolde. She saw Isabelle smiling at the end of the vision, the same smile as Isolde. The hidden motive was now so clear. Isabelle wasn't 'helping'. She was 'binding'. She wanted Shapira to fully become Anya, or at least, a vessel for the power Isabelle desired.
"No," Shapira whispered, tears streaming down her temples. "That ... that wasn't help. That ... was a trap."
*
When Shapira regained consciousness, Isabelle was already standing beside her bed, her smile as warm as the morning sun, but her eyes, Shapira now saw it, held the same cunning glint as Isolde's in her vision. Isabelle held a silver bowl containing a blackish liquid that emitted thin wisps of smoke, and around the room, strangely scented candles burned, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
"Shapira, my dear," Isabelle's voice chanted, full of piercing affection. "I know you're suffering. I know the burden of destiny you bear. But don't worry, I'm here to help you. This alignment ritual will make you accept your power, to control your fragmented soul."
Shapira tried to pull back, but her body was too weak. "What is this ritual, Isabelle?" she asked, her voice hoarse. She felt a deep fear, an ancient instinct screaming that she was in danger.
Isabelle drew closer, her cold hand touching Shapira's forehead. "This is a ritual to unite the core souls. To allow Anya and Isolde to merge within you, under your control, of course. You will possess their power, their wisdom. You will no longer waver." She smiled, the smile of a savior. "Imagine, Shapira. Free from suffering, possessing the power to protect yourself. Isn't that what you want?"
Isabelle's words sounded like poisoned honey. Shapira knew it, she felt it. The vision of Isolde piercing Anya, forcing her to accept the bond, whirled in her mind. "I don't want their power," Shapira replied, her voice trembling. "I just want to be myself."
"Oh, dear," Isabelle sighed, her expression shifting to one of perfect sorrow. "That's impossible. Destiny has bound you. If you refuse it, the second soul will destroy you from within. You will go mad, Shapira. Trust me. I don't want that to happen to you."
Isabelle then began her ritual. She smeared the blackish liquid from the silver bowl onto Shapira's forehead, her wrists, her chest. The scent of strange spices mingled with a faint smell of earth and blood. Isabelle began chanting incantations in an ancient language, her voice low and hypnotic. Shapira felt a strange force, as if energy was pulling her out of her own body, while another energy possessed her. She felt like a thin thread stretched between two worlds, and Isabelle was tightening that bond, slowly but surely.
Shapira screamed, but her voice was caught in her throat. This wasn't healing. This was ensnarement. She saw Isabelle above her, her green eyes emanating a strange light, her smile widening. She felt her soul split, partly wanting to fight, partly, the part Isabelle had poisoned, wanting to surrender, to feel the promised peace.
*
Concurrently with Isabelle's cruel ritual, another storm had erupted outside. Astellia's border skies were not only adorned with Lucian's terrifying projections but also with real fire and blood. Varkhiel's forces, led by a shadow general loyal to Lucian, launched a coordinated and brutal assault. Border villages were burned, defensive fortresses were struck by waves of dark magic, and most horrifyingly, several important Astellian nobles and officials who were inspecting the front lines were abducted.
This news reached Astellia's palace like a bolt from the blue. William, having just emerged from the forbidden library, still clutching the "Whisper of the Nexus" scroll containing the bitter truth, was confronted with a crushing reality. A royal messenger ran to him, his face ashen and filled with horror.
"Your Royal Highness!" the messenger gasped, out of breath. "The border ... is under attack! The city of Veridia has fallen! General Valerius ... and the nobles ... they've been abducted!"
William's rage burned, but this time, his anger was mixed with cold despair. He saw the report he had just read, about Isabelle's danger, about the trap she had set for Shapira. And now, Lucian's attack, designed to draw him away.
The King of Astellia appeared, his face etched with deep worry, his eyes conveying sorrow over the destruction. He had heard the news, and he knew the gravity of the decision William had to make.
"William," the King said, his voice hoarse. "The kingdom needs you. The people need you. Our defenses have been breached. Lucian deliberately did this, to draw you out. To leave Shapira defenseless."
William clutched the parchment scroll tightly in his hand. He knew the truth about Isabelle. He knew Shapira was in gravest danger. He heard Shapira screaming from within her chambers, a heart-piercing cry, as if she were being tortured. This dilemma crushed his soul.
"Shapira .…" William whispered, his eyes closing for a moment, imagining his beloved's pale, fear-stricken face. He knew he couldn't leave her alone with Isabelle, not after what he had read. Yet, he also couldn't allow Astellia to fall. He was the Prince, the future King. His blood flowed to protect his kingdom.
"Father," William said, his voice steady even though his soul screamed. "I must see Shapira first. I've discovered something … something horrifying about Isabelle. She … she isn't just guiding her, she's binding her. I must stop her ritual."
The King gazed at his son, his wise eyes now filled with painful pride. "William, are you certain? Whatever you've found, is it worth the lives of thousands at the border? We can send reserve troops … but your presence is their spirit."
"This is more than just saving lives, Father," William replied, his voice full of determination. "This is about her soul. Lucian knows Shapira's weakness, and Isabelle is his pawn, accelerating her destruction. If I lose Shapira, I will lose all that remains of myself. And Astellia needs a whole King, Father. Not a broken one."
William then turned, making a decision that would shape his and Astellia's destiny. He would not let Shapira be sacrificed. Not for Astellia, not for the throne. He had to save her first. He ran towards Shapira's chambers, the "Whisper of the Nexus" scroll clutched tightly. He knew the consequences of his decision, but he couldn't leave Shapira alone in the darkness Isabelle had created. He had to stop the ritual, whatever the risk.
However, amidst his hurried steps, he felt a devastating tremor emanating from Shapira's room. A powerful wave of dark energy suddenly pulsed from within, so dense it made the air vibrate and the candles in the corridor flicker, almost extinguishing. Shapira's screams were no longer weak, but a heart-wrenching wail of agony, mixed with Isabelle's high-pitched, triumphant laughter. William knew he was too late. He felt the strong pull of that energy, as if Shapira had now become the epicenter of an uncontrolled magical storm.
Shapira's chamber door creaked open slightly, and through the gap, he saw Shapira floating in the air, her body helplessly spinning in the same horrifying green light he had seen in the locket. Isabelle stood beneath her, both hands raised, her eyes glinting with power.
"Welcome, Princess Anya," Isabelle whispered, her voice now sounding older, more sinister. "Now, your power is mine. Your destiny … is now in my hands."
William was frozen, witnessing the horrific sight. Shapira, his beloved, had now completely fallen into Isabelle's trap, becoming a puppet in that heinous ritual. And at the same moment, he felt the tremor of the earth coming from the border, a sign that Lucian had reached Astellia's core, ready to destroy everything. He was trapped. Two worlds, two threats, and he couldn't be in two places at once.
A thick, dark shadow suddenly enveloped Shapira's chamber, appearing from nowhere, swirling around Shapira's floating body. From within the shadow, a pair of fiery red eyes emerged, staring directly at William, the demonic smile he knew so well. Lucian. He hadn't just attacked the border, he had come for Shapira directly, possessing Isabelle's pavilion, or perhaps Isabelle was another form of Lucian himself.
"Welcome, William," Lucian's voice echoed from the shadow, his tone filled with mockery. "You are too late. The Princess … is now my queen. And Astellia … will follow."
William felt his world crumble. He had failed. Shapira had fallen, and Astellia was on the brink of destruction. The battle was no longer just about protecting, but about reclaiming what had been lost, and the price might be everything. He had to choose, confront Lucian and the possessed Shapira, or save Astellia from the inevitable assault. And this time, his choice was not just for himself, but for the destiny of the entire world.