IMPORTANT NOTE: The following Chapters may appear darker than anything till this point, but it is mostly directed at the characterization and world-building. The tone of the story will remain the same as was in the first book. Both chapters 53 and 55 have things that are triggering so be warned. (they are only dialogue though, nothing explicit or anything like that)
Diantha felt the air shake. Her head shot up. It was Iris’s doing. She watched the maid, bringing her tea, fall on the floor as if pressed. Blood rushed into her, and the maid looked up, her eyes quivering. She grasped for oxygen audibly. Diantha could only watch; she had nothing to help her. The difference in reaction was what made her a non-mage. She felt something happen, but the maid knew what happened.
“What happened?” Her voice brought the maid back to the present.
She looked at Diantha, panicked, “It’s alright, what happened?” Her voice brought calm to the maid.
"I don’t know, my lady; it was like someone dumped me in mud filled with razors. And it came from above."
Diantha nodded; she knew it was Iris’s doing. “Leave that as is, and tell everyone not to approach the top floor. Even knights,” the maid rose to her feet and strutted away.
She needed to find Lady Ilona. The last thing she desired was Ilona stumbling into Iris’s room. It would be disastrous. Diantha did not know why, but Ilona had deep-seated care towards Iris and even deeper guilt. A past that she did not know, perhaps even Iris didn’t. Iris was too young to remember, or was she forced to forget?
Diantha reached the exit to the compound and saw Ianthe and Hecate rushing toward her.
“What was that?” Hecate asked. She was more disturbed than Ianthe.
“I am less aware than you are, but Iris has asked no one to approach her."
“But…”
“She has her reasons, Hella. The last thing we want to do is push her fragile mind. Leave her be."
Hecate nodded.
Diantha left them and began her search for Ilona. After searching through the compound to the back entrance, she finally found her on the second-floor terrace—drinking coffee. Diantha sighed. Then she realized that if Ilona wished to, she would’ve checked on Iris. Diantha had been searching for 5 minutes.
“Lady Ilona?” Diantha asked as she took another seat. Ilona was quiet, lost in how own thoughts.
“Diantha, how unusual of you to search for me,” Ilona said. “Have you ever felt perhaps your kindness was a burden, a crime, perhaps leaving things be was a better choice, perhaps you should’ve never shown kindness? Perhaps death would have a kindness?” Ilona whispered. Her question was more at herself than Diantha.
“You felt the mana discharge," Diantha asked.
“Even a non-mage in miles would have felt it, and that too, because Iris wished for it to not touch the people; look up."
Diantha saw a gaping hole in the storm clouds. “That is…?”
“The mana went up into the sky and blew open clouds, and there is a storm to come; you should place the city on lockdown. She is still not used to this world and its reaction to discharge. Even so, it was the best she could’ve done."
“You are aware she is having an episode?"
“I knew before she did. I can see the filth building up and how badly it is reacting to this world’s mana. The mana in the Labyrinth is like darkness if we say the mana here is Light. If things stay the same, she would die in less than a year.” Ilona spoke impassively—as if she did not care.
“Yet you will do nothing." Diantha felt her composure slip. She knew Iris’s situation was woeful. Diantha had hoped Ilona was searching for a solution that was Ilona’s kindness. Diantha could only comfort Iris with her hollow words, for that was all she had, unlike Ilona, who was competent enough to help Iris. Ilona did speak about her kindness. She showed it.
“What is it that I can do?" Ilona asked—a tiny bit of edge in her voice.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
“You’re… Ilona, surely there is something you can do to help Iris," Diantha asked. She had an inkling that Iris was on the verge of death, but seeing Ilona’s impassiveness towards her assured Diantha that she had a way to help Iris. She thought that was why Ilona guided her here. And the wait was not for the map but for the seed of Eve to save Iris.
"The only help I can offer is the same as what Fia offered to Stella and Hecate. A painless death and a promise to heal her familiar Nothing more.”
“There’s nothing to save, Iris?” Diantha paused; there was. Ilona herself said the seed of Eve could heal filth. Then, “Why?”
“You have spent time with her; have you ever seen her find any for herself? Does she wish to save herself? What is there for her to save herself for? A husk—that she loathes? Saving Winny is her only desire. The moment she achieves that, she will kill herself. A fragile mind barely holding on to eternal suffering, even now, in that room, she is wishing for death. I have seen people having an episode,” Ilona’s voice rose higher with each, then her shoulder slumped, and she sighed.
“I tried once to save someone from the same fate and failed. Keeping a patient alive is easy from the certain death of episode, but they strangle themselves to death, bite off their tongue, or do anything that would kill them. Nothing exists that rivals the pain that she feels now.” Ilona sighed, “even stopping that is easy, but nothing can protect the mind from trauma. No patient has ever stayed sane—death is a respite.”
“Is that it?” Diantha asked, “Is that why you feel guilty about her? Because saving her is not impossible? I do not understand your relationship with her,” Diantha sighed. She understood even less about Ilona now, riddled with grief and mourning. Crime? “Do I ever regret showing kindness? Of course, every time I look at Hecate. Still, I will never change my answer to Fia. Hecate is young and will find happiness in life, and for that—I will continue to force her to live. She has me, you, and now a few more people she cares about. Even after everything she went through last night, she smiled today, and that is enough reason to show kindness, even if it's painful, even if it feels like the worst thing I could’ve done was to be compassionate.”
“I lack the conviction you have, perhaps, ignorance of the future,” Diantha failed to understand her words. “Perhaps it is as good a time as any. Let me tell you about my first encounter with Iris.”
“Fate prophesied her death at eight and asked me to save her. I, of course, was unaware of her fate at that time. When I reached the village, the infection and the poison had consumed her body. With a Seed of Eve, I saved her. I regret that decision. Leaving her to die was the right thing to do. I left her in that village to suffer, aware of the life she would live there.” Ilona's voice dimmed, “Fate predicted it was only in Greyhedge village she would live long. I assumed he said long and pleasant life. But…”
Diantha waited patiently for Ilona to continue.
“Years later, I found reasons behind Fate’s desire to save her, and then I realised how cruel a thing I had done. After that, I began to stay away from Rena and traversed Ira in search of Iris, but I couldn’t find her, and I finally settled here, praying she was dead. That day, she came to me with her familiar. I realised what fate meant by long. She found something that would force her to live her suffering—even in death, she’d crawl forward. I do not have the strength to save her once more. Death is her respite. I would make sure that Fate does not intervene.”
Diantha peered at her, unsure what to say. She understood the history and her guilt. But not what Iris was going through. To say that death was her only respite was blasphemous. She would give Iris the happiness she deserves. "No child should live and die in pain, thinking of death as their only respite. I believe she still has a chance at life.”
“She does not!” Ilona snapped. Diantha only felt sad seeing her like this. “Do you know of prophecies of the Fifth age? Regarding the prophecy of eyeless eyes?”
“No…” Fifth age just began. She didn’t even know its inception would be on the night of Reaper. No human of her stature knew—only the likes of Ilona or the emperor.
“The slave of Divine Emperor, Seirie, bearer of eyeless eyes, at the cessation of the fourth age, shall be reborn, as the inferior she was, living the life of eternal suffering, till the day of the second coming of the Divine Emperor, and henceforth, serve as eternal slave beside the divine throne. That slave shall be born with eyes, yet no light, without Iris, and still be Iris,” Ilona whispered hollowly, “I named her Iris, reincarnation of Seirie—the eternal slave. The age of conquest will end on the day the Divine Emperor enslaves her. For that is her fate.”
Diantha stared at her, failing to form words. The prophecies always come true.
“She will suffer for every breath till the day the Divine Emperor claims her, and she would lose her right to die. The weeping moon was once the eye of Elder Dragon, who wrote this prophecy. It weeps for the tragedy she had lived in her past life, and she will live in the next incarnation. Someone, most likely Archane Empress—Yeirin, took her eyes, perhaps to lessen her suffering, perhaps to use it to lessen her own sin. Regardless, eyeless eyes as they were named, as their bearer, she will live her fate until the day the divine emperor dies.”
Diantha still said nothing. She was insignificant to do anything about world-defining prophecies.
Ilona stared into her eyes “What will you say to lessen her suffering? On the day she heals her Familiar—I’ll kill her, for that is her respite. I would’ve killed her on the day we met, but seeing her condition and, even then, trying to save her cat, I couldn’t. I wish to see her accomplish her sole desire. Once she does, she will be able to find peace in death, and so will I.”
Diantha was quiet. What could she say to save Iris? Nothing. She does not have anything. She was an Insignificant ant. "Why...? Why does she have such a cruel fate?"
"Without her tears... The divine Throne cannot be reforged, and after being reforged, the Divine Throne must be anointed by the tears of Seirei every month or It would shatter. She is, in the most twisted sense, the keeper of the Divine Throne.