THE DEAD QUEEN

Property of:

Rapid Fire Enterprises

Created By:

David Tyrel Little

Chapter 4: Shaping the Crystal

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, its golden rays filtered through the crystalline spires outside the window, casting shimmering patterns across the floor. Enixia and Amaira remained seated on the bench, the silence between them growing comfortable. The faint hum of the city's airships above provided a soothing rhythm, a reminder of the society they lived in—a world that both uplifted and crushed its people under the weight of impossible expectations.

Amaira finally broke the silence, her voice gentle but firm. "Enixia, have you ever wondered why our society values perfection so much? Why your father and so many others cling to it like it's the only thing that matters?"

Enixia hesitated, her fingers tracing the faint glow of the markings on her arm. "I've thought about it... but I don't understand it. We already have everything—the airships, the cities, the crystals that power our entire world. What more do they want?"

Amaira sighed, her gaze drifting to the horizon where the grand airships floated like islands in the sky. "The Temeri weren't always like this. Before we harnessed the crystals, before the airships and the cities, we were... vulnerable. Fragile. We lived on the ground, subject to storms, disasters, and war. It wasn't through perfection— but through innovation, discipline, and strength—that we rose above those dangers. But somewhere along the way, we forgot what truly matters."

Enixia tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Amaira turned to her, her expression filled with both sadness and determination. "Your father and the others believe that perfection is in how strong we are, how flawless we appear, how much better we can be than everyone else. But they've forgotten that perfection isn't about being unbreakable. It's about adapting, growing, and finding beauty in the imperfections."

The words hung in the air, resonating deeply within Enixia. She looked at her mother, searching for answers she wasn't sure she could ask. "If that's true... then why am I so different? Why don't I have the same strength or speed as the others? Why do they all treat me like... like I don't belong?"

Amaira's eyes softened, and she reached out to tuck a strand of Enixia's hair behind her ear. "Because they're afraid of what they don't understand. You are different, my love. But different doesn't mean less. You've always been special."

Enixia frowned, her thoughts racing. "Special? How?"

Amaira hesitated, her hands folding tightly in her lap. She glanced down the hall, as if checking for anyone who might overhear, before leaning closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you remember the story of the Nova Crystal?"

Enixia blinked. "The Nova Crystal? The one that powers the grand city?"

Amaira nodded. "It's the most powerful crystal we've ever created. It's the reason our cities float, the reason we have the technology we do. But it wasn't always so magnificent. When it was first discovered, it was... unstable. Fragile. Most scientists thought it was useless. But one saw its potential. They nurtured it, studied it, and slowly, over time, they shaped it into something extraordinary."

Enixia's breath caught as understanding began to dawn. "You're saying... I'm like the Nova Crystal?"

Amaira smiled softly. "Yes. Your father may not see it yet, but I do. You're still being shaped, my darling. You have a strength inside you that the others don't. It may not be obvious now, but one day, it will shine brighter than any of them could ever imagine."

Enixia's throat tightened, and she looked down at her hands. The faint glow of her markings seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. "But how do I get there? How do I prove to them that I'm not... broken?"

Amaira reached out, tilting her chin so their eyes met. "You don't need to prove anything to them. You only need to believe in yourself. Keep fighting, keep growing, and one day, they'll see. And if they don't... then it's their loss."

For the first time that day, a faint smile touched Enixia's lips. Her mother's unwavering belief in her was like a balm, soothing the wounds left by her father's words. She leaned into Amaira's embrace, the warmth of her mother's love surrounding her like a shield.

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"Thank you, Mother," she whispered. "For everything."

Amaira stroked her hair, her own voice thick with emotion. "You don't need to thank me, my love. It's my honor to be your mother."

As they sat together, the city outside continued to hum with life. The airships drifted lazily, their crystal-powered engines glowing in the twilight. But for Enixia, the world felt just a little less overwhelming. She still had questions, still had doubts, but for now, she had the comfort of knowing that someone believed in her. And that, she decided, was enough.

Chapter 5: Sweet SecretsThe streets of the lower districts were a world apart from the crystalline grandeur of the First Class [https://img.wattpad.com/190ef9c05755c990cce9f828db3536d3f6b76201/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4e4d484f615158544a77434369773d3d2d313530343337393630352e313831333438663237383534343430633437363430313930353033302e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

Chapter 5: Sweet Secrets

The streets of the lower districts were a world apart from the crystalline grandeur of the First Class. Here, the airships loomed closer, casting shifting shadows over the bustling marketplace below. Vendors called out to passersby, offering wares both mundane and exotic, while the warm scent of freshly baked bread and spiced pastries filled the air. Enixia pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, trying to blend in as she navigated the winding cobblestone paths.

She knew she stood out, even with the hood drawn. Her posture, her jewles, and the faint glow of her crystalline accessories marked her as First Class. And yet, here she was, weaving through the lively market, far from the sterile perfection of her family's domain. She pulled her hood lower over her face, her pale features and faintly glowing markings still enough to draw lingering stares. Her steps were quick but deliberate, weaving through the crowded streets, careful not to brush too close to anyone. She ignored the whispering as she passed. It was always the same.

"A First Class? Here?"

"What business does she have with us?"

"Shouldn't her servants be here..."

"Look at her dumb glowing jewles...why?..what a snob."

She ignored the stares, focusing instead on her destination—a small bakery tucked into a corner of the square.

The shop's sign was modest, carved from wood with a simple crystal embedded in its center. Hennar's Hearth, it read in flowing script. The sight of it brought a smile to her face. Pushing open the door, she was greeted by a wave of warmth and the rich, comforting aroma of baking bread. Behind the counter, a young man stood, his sleeves rolled up and flour dusting his hands and arms. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his deep green eyes lit up the moment he saw her.

"Enixia!" he called out, setting down the tray of rolls he'd been arranging. "I was wondering when you'd drop by."

"Hennar," she replied, her voice light. "Still covered in flour, I see. You're consistent, if nothing else."

He grinned, wiping his hands on his apron. "Occupational hazard. What brings you to the lower district today? Craving something sweet?"

Enixia leaned against the counter, her smile softening. "I wanted to get something for my parents. A peace offering, I suppose."

Hennar's expression flickered briefly with concern. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Your father giving you trouble again?"

She hesitated, then shrugged, trying to brush it off. "He's just... being himself. It's nothing new."

Hennar didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the matter. Instead, he moved to the display case and began selecting pastries. "Let me guess—your mother would like something light and sweet, and your father..." He paused, glancing back at her. "Does he even eat pastries?"

Enixia chuckled, though the sound was tinged with bitterness. "Not often, but he has a weakness for those crystallized fruit tarts. Just don't tell him I know that."

Hennar smirked, placing a couple of the tarts into a small box. "Your secret's safe with me."

As he worked, they fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. They talked about the market, the latest airship designs Hennar's brother was obsessed with, and the ridiculous antics of some of the lower-class children who frequented the bakery. For a little while, Enixia forgot about the weight of her father's expectations, the ridicule of her peers, and the endless pressure to prove herself.

But Hennar, perceptive as ever, eventually steered the conversation back to her. "I heard about the sparring match," he said gently, his hands busy tying a ribbon around the pastry box. "Are you okay?"

Enixia's smile faltered, and she looked away, fiddling with the edge of her cloak. "I lost. Badly. And they made sure I knew just how pathetic they think I am."

Hennar stopped what he was doing and leaned on the counter, his gaze steady and reassuring. "You're not pathetic, Enixia. Those girls don't see what I see."

She met his eyes, her heart warming at the sincerity in his voice. Hennar had always been her anchor and friend, the one person who treated her as more than a disappointment or an outsider. She smiled faintly. "Thanks, Hennar. You always know what to say."

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's a gift."

For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence. Then, as if unable to hold it in any longer, Enixia leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Hennar... there's something I need to tell you."

His expression grew serious, and he nodded for her to continue.

She hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. "My father... He's been using me for an experiment."

Hennar's brows knitted together in confusion and concern. "A test subject? For what?"

Enixia swallowed hard, her markings glowing faintly as her emotions stirred. "The Immortal Project. He's trying to perfect it, to create a way for us to live forever. I'm... part of his experiments."

Hennar's face went pale, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. "Enixia... that's dangerous. Does he—does he even care what this could do to you?"

She shook her head quickly. "It's not like that. I know my father doesn't... care for me the way a parent should. But he won't let anything happen to me. Not because of who I am, but because I'm valuable to his work."

Hennar looked at her for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Then, without warning, he stepped around the counter and pulled her into a tight hug. The sudden warmth of his embrace startled her, but she quickly relaxed, closing her eyes as she let herself lean into him.

"You're more than just 'valuable to his work,'" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You're Enixia. You're strong, and kind, and stubborn as hell, and you don't deserve any of this."

She smiled against his shoulder, blinking back tears. "Thanks, Hennar. That means a lot."

He pulled back reluctantly, his hands lingering on her shoulders. "If you ever need anything—anything at all—you come to me. Promise?"

"I promise," she said, her voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside her.

With that, Hennar stepped back, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he returned to the counter. He handed her the box of pastries with a grin that didn't quite hide the concern in his eyes. "Don't let those girls or your father get to you, okay? You're stronger than all of them combined."

She nodded, her smile genuine this time. "I'll try."

As she stepped out of the bakery, the warmth of Hennar's hug lingered, a small but steady comfort against the chill of the evening air. She clutched the box of pastries tightly, her heart lighter than it had been in days. For all the challenges she faced, she was grateful to have someone like Hennar in her corner.

By the time she returned home, the sky was painted with the soft hues of dusk. Her mother greeted her at the door, her face lighting up at the sight of the pastries. Enixia handed her the box with a small smile, her thoughts still lingering on the boy in the bakery who believed in her even when no one else did.

image [https://img.wattpad.com/293b3da2924b00ee85c419d14d2f8c5115443c37/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f71484f79485f314479636e4a4a773d3d2d313530343337393630352e3138313334386662636639306534663232343330333034383339312e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]