Chapter 31: A Voice in the Soul's Darkness
Yet, the warmth of her mother's memory, an invisible anchor, slowly pulled her back from the abyss of emptiness. The nights of the past few days had passed like a long nightmare, leaving behind a profound exhaustion.
"Fool."
The voice, thin as a taut silk thread, slithered from behind the mirror. It wasn't Isabelle's voice, nor Lucian's, that she heard inside her mind. It was a cold voice, filled with long-held hatred, caressing her ears like a winter's whisper. Shapira trembled, every hair on her body standing on end.
"She's in Nymira, gathering her strength. And she won't rest until the throne is hers, until Anya's blood spills on the land she calls home."
Fear choked Shapira's throat. The name was like a dagger, piercing straight through with blood and betrayal. She saw her reflection in the mirror, her gray eyes radiating palpable horror. Could it be true? After everything Isabelle had done and all Shapira had endured, could Isolde still exist, a separate entity, and not just a shadow trying to possess her? The thought of relaying the dreadful threat to William arose. He was the Prince, the future King. He had to know. But the image of William's weary face, his shoulders heavy with the burden of war, flashed through Shapira's mind. She couldn't.
*
Since his return from the border, he had sensed something different about Shapira. She had withdrawn, her gaze often empty, as if her thoughts were drifting far away.
"You're hiding something. I can feel it."
Shapira flinched. But her decision to keep the secret had hardened, like an invisible wall between them. She couldn't speak, afraid of William's reaction and the burden she would place upon him.
"I'm not hiding anything," Shapira replied. She turned her face away, gazing at the tranquil koi pond.
William sighed, his hands clenched at his sides. "Don't ever lie, Shapira." He stepped closer, his shadow now completely enveloping her. "After everything that's happened and what we've been through, you still don't trust me?"
William's words pierced Shapira. "I'm not lying! I just ... I just don't want to burden you!" She stood up, facing William, her gray eyes flashing with anger. "You're always like this, William! Always wanting to control! Do you think you know everything about me, about what's best for me?"
"Control?" William hissed, his jaw tightening. "I just want to protect you! Especially from Lucian, from Isolde, from yourself!" His hand rose, as if to reach for her, but he held back, his hand hovering in the air. "Do you know what I saw on the battlefield? Lucian's cruelty, the spilled blood ... I couldn't bear it if something happened to you again."
"Protect me or imprison me?!" Shapira cried out, her voice breaking. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm not a puppet, William!"
An oppressive silence fell over the garden. William looked at Shapira, his face clouded with pain and disappointment.
Regret immediately flooded William. Every step away felt like a burden, every breath a hiss of regret.
*
He approached slowly, each step feeling like an admission of his mistake. "Shapira," his voice soft.
Shapira didn't move, as if she were a statue sculpted from sorrow. Only the slight trembling of her shoulders indicated she was still awake.
William sat beside her, maintaining a distance, respecting the silence that enveloped Shapira. The fragrant scent of night-blooming flowers now mingled with the smell of damp earth and the freshness of the lake water. "I ... I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He lowered his head, unable to meet Shapira's gaze. "I shouldn't have spoken like that. I shouldn't have doubted you."
Shapira finally turned her head. "I ... I shouldn't have yelled at you either."
Silence enveloped them again, but this time it was more comfortable and understanding. Like the true strength of their love, it grew back.
"I'm just afraid," William confessed, his voice now sincere, without a hint of harshness. He took a deep breath, allowing his vulnerability to show.
*
"The protective magic has thinned after the last attack."
Shapira remembered her mother's lullabies, melodies that gave her strength and courage. She volunteered.
"I can do it," Shapira said. All eyes turned to her. "I can rebuild the lost power."
She took William's hand, reassuring him. "I have to try. This is how I can help Astellia."
With William's permission, Shapira stepped into the center of the room. On the palace walls, an invisible energy shield began to hum, then slowly solidified, radiating the same light, brighter, stronger than before. Shapira's voice rose, reaching its peak, and the shield now appeared solid, like an unshakable wall protecting Astellia.
As the song faded, Shapira swayed, almost collapsing. William immediately caught Shapira, preventing her from falling to the floor.
"But you also worry me. Never push yourself this far." He lifted his head, looking at Shapira, his eyes full of love.
*
Behind him, two Varkhiel soldiers stood in jet-black armor, swords drawn. William stood before the throne, Shapira at his side, her hand tightly gripping his.
"Prince William Valen Astellian," the envoy's voice echoed through the silent hall. "King Lucian Mordred sent me to deliver his message. Surrender Shapira Elizabeth Swan to us. Otherwise, Varkhiel will wage a war Astellia will never win. Blood will flow in every corner of this kingdom."
Fear choked Shapira, but she tried to suppress the rush of blood in her ears. William's grip tightened, giving her strength. William stepped forward, his dark blue eyes cold and deadly. He stared at the envoy, not flinching in the slightest.
"Deliver this message to your King Lucian," William said, "I will not surrender Shapira. She is the Queen of Astellia. And as long as I still breathe, no one shall touch her."
William pulled Shapira closer, holding her hand before the envoy, a clear declaration of his loyalty and love. The candlelight in the hall danced, reflecting their unwavering silhouettes. The envoy frowned, anger visible in his eyes. He had not anticipated such a firm refusal.
"You will regret this, Prince of Astellia," the envoy hissed. "King Lucian knows no mercy. And when this war ends, Astellia will kneel at his feet, and Shapira Elizabeth Swan will be his, dead or alive."
The envoy turned, signaling to his soldiers, and they departed, leaving William and Shapira standing tall in the hall, which now felt even colder. William looked at the closed door, his jaw set. The stakes had been raised. War was no longer just at the border, but directly at Astellia's gates. of her soul, Isolde's whispers still swirled, "Does he truly love you, or just the power within you?" That doubt, like a dark shadow, danced in her heart, even amidst such a powerful declaration of love. And in her room's mirror, Isolde's faint reflection could be seen, smiling cunningly, awaiting the moment Shapira would fully doubt William.