Chapter 96
***
Movement slowed. Breath caught in her throat. A chilling frost crept from her fingertips, numbing her. Terrible. Oh, such terrible pain. How could the act of living, of breathing, be so agonizing?
She had faced death countless times in her dreams, and now, facing it in reality, a strange calmness settled over her. She knew that soon, very soon, this pain would fade, replaced by a long-awaited peace. The thought brought a strange sense of relief.
Memories flickered, a whirlwind of moments from her past. Her first unsteady steps, the shared laughter with Annalisa, eyes locked in a silent understanding. The vibrant festival, a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds. The songs they sang together, melodies weaving through their shared history. Annalisa’s retreating figure, her silent tears, the weight of unspoken words. The memory of a fevered hand gripping hers, a desperate plea to survive etched in her tear-filled eyes, even as blood stained her lips.
A bone-deep chill enveloped her. She longed to curl into herself, to find some warmth against the encroaching cold, but even that small comfort remained beyond her reach. She lacked the strength to move even a finger.
Annalisa had never embraced her, never allowed her to utter the word “Mother.” She had always urged her to be strong, to rise after every fall, to never yield. That was how she was meant to live.
These were her memories, faded and fragmented, almost lost to time. Memories so poignant, so achingly bittersweet, that she had deliberately buried them deep within the recesses of her mind.
Now, she knew the end was truly near. This moment, the one she had always known would come, had finally arrived.
Vivid memories, once sharp as a freshly painted canvas, began to blur and distort, like watercolors bleeding into one another. The cold intensified, icy water leaching the warmth from her body. Perhaps, just perhaps, this was it.
“Ce…sar…”
She wished she could have seen him one last time. But her fading consciousness slipped away, sinking into a dark abyss, like falling into a deep slumber. She sank slowly into the depths.
***
A tall figure stood alone in the emerald palace’s audience chamber, unaccompanied. The deep cowl of his robe concealed his features, the shadows beneath the dark fabric so dense that his face remained entirely hidden. It was Richard, the royal advisor, the same guest who had been inquiring about Cesar since morning.
He stood gazing intently at a painting that adorned the wall, a portrait of the late Emperor and Empress.
A knock echoed through the chamber, and Cesar entered, accompanied by Delphina. Spotting Richard, Cesar rushed forward with a delighted greeting.
“Richard!”
Richard turned, acknowledging Cesar’s presence.
“Has all been well?”
“Yes.”
Richard paused, arms crossed, blinking several times. Then, a note of wonder crept into his voice.
“This is…”
Richard approached Cesar, his gaze sweeping over him, lingering on Cesar’s left hand. He turned it over, examining it with meticulous care.
“Remarkable.”
“Yes?”
“Since when has this been the case?”
“Since when?”
Cesar tilted his head, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
“I’ll need to examine you further to be certain, but you are considerably improved since I last saw you.”
“Yes.”
It was difficult to discern whether Cesar fully understood the conversation. Sensing Cesar’s wavering focus, Richard gently placed his hand on Cesar’s forehead.
“Let us proceed with the usual examination.”
A soft, luminous light emanated from his hand, a manifestation of his magical abilities. After a prolonged moment, Richard murmured, his voice filled with awe.
“…The curse has stabilized.”
“Curse?”
Cesar tilted his head to the side. Richard smiled faintly at the gesture. He double-checked, but the results remained consistent.
While Cesar hadn’t fully regained his reason, he was significantly calmer compared to their last encounter. The symptoms that had been spiraling towards their worst had undoubtedly subsided.
He couldn’t help but ask.
“What happened while I was away?”
Cesar remained silent, merely blinking in response. Richard hadn’t expected a coherent answer anyway. The Dragon King’s curse wasn’t known to relent easily. Yet, Cesar was in remarkably good condition. He couldn’t explain it, but humans called such occurrences “miracles.”
Though not an optimist by nature, Richard found himself viewing the situation with unexpected positivity. Someone, it seemed, had intervened.
“Traces of magic…”
The residue was faint, barely perceptible, yet he sensed magic encircling Cesar. It was the mark of a unique spell, for magic left a distinct signature based on its caster. Certain spells even allowed one to identify the caster by reading these residual energies.
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