Chapter 65 - The Little Girl
"𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔏𝔲𝔵𝔞𝔫𝔞? 𝔚𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔯?"
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"𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔞𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔶 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡."
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"ℌ𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔠𝔯𝔲𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪?"
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"𝔏𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔇𝔲𝔨𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔙𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔢? 𝔚𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪?"
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"𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔞𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔶 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡."
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"𝔏𝔬𝔠𝔨𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔎𝔢𝔶𝔰. 𝔚𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔟𝔢 𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔬𝔯?"
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"𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔲𝔫𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔶 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫."
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"𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔞𝔫, 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤?"
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"𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔲𝔫𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔶 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫."
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"𝔚𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔢𝔶 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔠𝔨? 𝔒𝔯 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔠𝔨?"
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"𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔞 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤."
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"𝔚𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔬𝔡𝔰 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔢𝔭𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪?"
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"𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔞 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤."
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"𝔚𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔳𝔢?"
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"𝔑𝔬 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔰."
-Helia Palace; King's Study-
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King Hades paced the length of his study, his mind reeling from the devastating news. The loss of Lady Vespera and the disappearance of Prince Rowan weighed heavily on his shoulders. He paused before the portrait of his wife and son, his fingers tracing the frame as if trying to reach through the canvas to touch them.
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A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Enter," he commanded, his voice hoarse with emotion.
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Kyle Brunte, his trusted advisor, stepped into the room. "Your Majesty, I've heard the news. My deepest condolences."
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Hades nodded grimly. "Thank you, Kyle. What news do you bring?"
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"The search parties have been dispatched, Sire. We've also sent word to neighboring kingdoms to be on alert for any sign of Prince Rowan."
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The King's eyes flashed with determination. "Good. We must leave no stone unturned. Have you any theories on the boy's disappearance?"
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Kyle hesitated before speaking. "Your Majesty, given the circumstances, we must consider the possibility that this was no mere accident. The timing, with the Hunting Festival approaching and the recent... tensions within the royal family, it's possible that-"
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"Speak plainly, Kyle," Hades interrupted, his patience wearing thin.
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"Sire, we must consider the possibility of foul play. Perhaps even... an inside job."
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The King's face darkened at the implication. "You suggest treachery within our own ranks?"
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"I merely present all possibilities, Your Majesty. We must be prepared for any eventuality."
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Hades turned to gaze out the window, his mind racing with the implications of Kyle's words. "Very well. Double the guards on the royal family. I want every member accounted for and protected. And Kyle?"
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"Yes, Sire?"
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"Investigate discreetly. If there is a traitor in our midst, I want them found and brought to justice. No matter their rank or station."
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King Hades turned back from the window, his face a mask of grief and determination. He cleared his throat, his voice rough with emotion as he addressed Kyle once more.
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"One more thing, Kyle," he said, his eyes fixed on the portrait of Lady Vespera.
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"Yes, Your Majesty?" Kyle replied, pausing at the door.
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"Begin preparations for Lady Vespera's funeral," the King commanded, his voice barely above a whisper. "It should be... befitting of her station and the love she brought to this family. But keep it discreet for now. We don't want to alarm the public or give our enemies any advantage."
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Kyle bowed deeply. "Of course, Sire. I'll see to it personally. Shall I consult with the royal undertaker for the arrangements?"
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Hades nodded slowly. "Yes, but ensure absolute discretion. And Kyle... let's wait on announcing Prince Rowan's disappearance. For now, let the kingdom believe both perished in the accident. It may buy us time to find him without interference."
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"A wise precaution, Your Majesty," Kyle agreed. "I'll ensure only our most trusted staff are involved in the preparations."
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As Kyle left to carry out his orders, King Hades sank back into his chair, the weight of his decisions pressing heavily upon him. He stared at the portrait of his wife and son, silently vowing to find Prince Rowan and bring justice to those responsible for this tragedy, no matter the cost.
-Vinar Palace; Arabella's Room-
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In a dimly lit room within the palace, Princess Arabella, Lord Heron, and Leena huddled together, speaking in hushed tones.
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"How tragic, the disappearance of young Prince Rowan," Princess Arabella said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Such a tender age, only eight years old. It's truly heartbreaking."
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Lord Heron nodded solemnly. "Indeed, Your Highness. The kingdom mourns for Lady Vespera and fears for the prince's safety."
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Leena glanced nervously at the door before whispering, "Are we certain no one suspects our involvement?"
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"Calm yourself, Leena," Arabella hissed. "Everything went according to plan. Lady Vespera's unfortunate 'accident' was flawlessly executed, and the boy is securely hidden away."
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"But for how long?" Leena pressed. "Surely the King will leave no stone unturned in his search."
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Lord Heron's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "Let him search. By the time anyone gets close to the truth, it will be too late. Our position in court will be unassailable."
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"And what of the child?" Arabella asked, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "How long before he outlives his usefulness?"
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"Patience, Your Highness," Lord Heron cautioned. "Prince Rowan is our insurance. As long as he lives, we hold all the cards."
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The trio exchanged knowing glances, their feigned sorrow for the missing prince replaced by cold calculation.
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As they continued to discuss their next moves, Lord Heron's gaze turned to Princess Arabella. He reached out, his fingers gently grasping her hand. With a gallant smile, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of her hand.
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"My dear Arabella," he whispered, his voice filled with affection. "Soon, we shall be married, and our union will secure our positions within the royal court."
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Princess Arabella's eyes sparkled with intrigue, her smile hinting at the power and influence their engagement would bring. "Indeed, my lord," she replied softly. "Together, we shall navigate the complexities of court politics with ease."
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Leena watched the exchange, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution. She knew that their actions were fraught with danger, but she also understood the potential rewards of their alliance.
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As Lord Heron straightened, his eyes locked with Arabella's, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the promise of their future together. In the shadows of the palace, their conspiracy deepened, while outside, the kingdom mourned unaware of the treachery in its midst.
-Yuria Palace; Daleyza's Room-
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Princess Lilith De Lyria Von Draken Mistglen De Zorathian and Lady Aeliana Emberheart sat in Queen Daleyza Limonizer De Carna Domino's opulent chambers, the air thick with tension. Daleyza paced the room, her earlier composure now completely shattered.
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"Daleyza, why do you harbor such hatred for Luxana?" Princess Lilith asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
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Daleyza whirled to face them, her eyes blazing. "Because she's the daughter of that wretched Roxana Von Olar Mera Eana Kior! I despise everything about her."
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Lady Aeliana leaned forward, intrigued. "But surely the child isn't to blame for her mother's actions?"
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"You don't understand," Daleyza hissed. "I didn't just hate Roxana. I eliminated her. I used Luxana's own nanny to do it. And now, that brat dares to wield the power of the Dragon Flames?"
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Princess Lilith's eyes widened in shock. "You orchestrated Roxana's death?"
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"Of course I did," Daleyza spat. "And it should have been my Isabella who inherited the Dragon Flames. She's the rightful heir, not that half-breed wench!"
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Lady Aeliana exchanged a worried glance with Princess Lilith. "Daleyza, these are dangerous words. If the King were to hear-"
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"The King?" Daleyza laughed bitterly. "Hades is too blinded by his precious Luxana to see the truth. But I'll make him see."
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Princess Lilith leaned forward, her brow furrowed in concern. "Daleyza, we've heard rumors that you've removed Luxana from the Family Registry. Is this true?"
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Queen Daleyza's eyes flashed with defiance. "Of course it's true. That girl has no place in our family."
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Lady Aeliana gasped. "But how? Surely the King must have approved such a drastic measure?"
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Daleyza's lips curled into a smirk. "The King knows nothing of it. I have my ways of... managing such matters discreetly."
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"But the entire kingdom seems to be aware," Princess Lilith pressed. "How is it possible that His Majesty remains in the dark?"
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"The King is often... preoccupied," Daleyza replied dismissively. "And I've ensured that those who matter are aware of Luxana's new status. The rest is mere gossip."
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Lady Aeliana and Princess Lilith exchanged worried glances, realizing the extent of Daleyza's machinations and the potential consequences of her actions.
-Circus on the east of Elas, Capital of Elmir-
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The Circus Joker's voice boomed across the fairgrounds, a twisted fanfare announcing his prize. Beside him, perched precariously on a rickety crate, sat a little girl who seemed plucked from a melancholic fairytale.
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Her complexion was porcelain, almost translucent, and framed by a cloud of short, dark curly hair. Her eyes, a haunting shade of blue, were wide and unblinking, giving the impression she saw far more – and far less – than those around her. She wore a light, vintage-style dress with puffed sleeves and a large, slightly askew bow at the collar. Beneath the dress, a darker long-sleeved shirt peeked out. Her legs were crossed delicately, her feet adorned with dark, strapped shoes that seemed too heavy for her small frame.
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Hovering above and around her, as if an extension of her very being, were the phases of the moon, each a ghostly, luminous disc. Delicate blue flowers, connected by equally fragile stems, formed a whimsical arch around her, a stark contrast to the menacing shadows of the circus tents.
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"Ladies and gentlemen!" the Joker roared, his painted grin a terrifying parody of joy. "Tonight, behold the Daughter of the Whisperer! She cries jewels, commands nightmares, and carries the legacy of a broken realm!"
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The crowd gasped and murmured, their eyes fixed on the small figure beside the Joker. The little girl's haunting blue eyes swept across the sea of faces before her, unblinking and eerily calm.
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A brave soul in the audience called out, "What can she do?"
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The Joker's laughter echoed through the night air. "Oh, my curious friend, she can do so much more than you can imagine! This child holds the power to haunt souls, to bring your deepest fears to life!"
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He turned to the girl, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. "Show them, my dear. Show them what you can do."
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The little girl's eyes flickered, a spark of something ancient and terrible igniting within them. She raised her small hands, and suddenly, the air around them began to shimmer and distort.
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But the little girl remained still, an unsettling calm radiating from her. When she finally spoke, her voice was a fragile whisper that somehow carried to the farthest corners of the circus grounds.
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"Once upon a time," she said, her eyes fixed on some unseen point in the distance, "there was a man who loved a broken soul. He thought his love could fix her, make her whole again. He was wrong. Broken things only know how to break."
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As she spoke, the crowd began to shift uneasily. Some clutched their heads, whimpering as if in pain. Others stared blankly ahead, tears streaming down their faces. The phases of the moon above her head seemed to pulse with an otherworldly light, casting strange shadows across the fairgrounds.
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As her words sank into the crowd, a wave of unease spread through them. The carefully constructed illusion of the circus began to crack, replaced by the creeping dread of something far more real, far more terrifying. The Joker watched, his smile faltering just for a moment as he sensed the power emanating from the small figure beside him—a power he could never truly control.
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The Joker cackled with delight. "You see? She brings your nightmares to life! The perfect addition to our little family of freaks and wonders!"
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But even as he reveled in the chaos, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his painted features. For in the girl's eyes, he saw something that made even his twisted heart skip a beat—a darkness that threatened to consume everything, including him. The legacy of the Whisperer and the broken realm of Omeen seemed to pulse within her small frame, a power far beyond the Joker's control or comprehension.
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The Circus Joker's laughter died in his throat as he watched the scene unfold before him. The little girl, her haunting blue eyes now gleaming with an otherworldly light, stood at the center of the chaos she had unleashed.
The crowd's cheers had turned to screams of terror. People clutched their heads, tears streaming down their faces as they battled unseen horrors. The phases of the moon above the girl's head pulsed with an eerie, pulsating glow, casting twisted shadows across the fairgrounds.
"Oh, but don't be fooled by this small frame, my dear spectators!" the Joker called out, his voice wavering slightly. "For this one—this one—she is special. And I intend to break her until she knows it."
He threw her to the ground, the impact sending a dull shock through her frail body. But she made no sound. No cries. No resistance. This wasn't new. Pain was an old friend, one she had known since she was small enough to still believe in kindness.
Memories surged through her mind. Her mother—once beautiful, now a broken soul, twisted and hollowed. The endless lessons, the relentless torture. The chains, the darkness, the words that cut deeper than knives.
"You will be nothing," her mother's voice echoed in her mind, soft and sing-song, full of venom.
"You are nothing."
The Joker circled her, his painted grin now a mask of uncertainty. "Ahhh, how dull," he mused. "No fun at all when they don't break properly. But that's alright." He squatted down, gripping her chin in his fingers. "I know just how to fix that."
With a snap of his fingers, performers surged forward, ropes in their hands. They bound her wrists, dragged her toward the center of the tent. The crowd roared as the circus took its cues from the Joker, performers spinning around her like a storm.
The first lash struck her back, fire streaking across her skin. By the third, she was floating, detached, watching it all happen to someone else.
And then—something cracked inside her.
The lights dimmed, flickering as if caught in the grip of an unseen force. A hush fell over the circus, broken only by the sound of a single woman's scream. Others followed, hands grasping at empty air, eyes wide in horror as unseen figures loomed in their vision.
The ghosts had come. Their mothers.
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To be Continued...
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