From Slave To Queen (Athena and Michael) novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120

The retum journey took place in complete silence, partly because no one dared speak to me, and because I had nothing to say. I shut myself in my cabin with Elara at my side, not leaving her for a single second. Seeing her in this state–gone, empry–is like having shards of glass in my heart. As soon as we arrived at the castle. I ordered that she be moved to my chambers: I wanted her nowhere else,

“What should we do with Ragna“” Drystar asks from behind me.

Several days have passed since our return, but everything has stayed the same, frozen in time. I admit that on the first day. I nearly went insane with rage. Seeing everything unchanged as if nothing had happened, with Elara on my bed as if she were just sleeping and would open her eyes at any moment with one of her sharp remarks, drove me mad–because reality is different. Elara opens her eyes, yes, but the doesn’t speak sharply Her gaze remains fixed on the ceiling and she watches the sun’s rays traverse their usual path, until night falls and the closes her eyes again. Like this every cursed day.

“We’ll keep her alive until she comes back to herself,” I say, pointing at her with my gaze=“Ragna is her matter, not ours.”

“Have you managed anything:

He doesn’t need to continue for me to know what he means. I’ve spent days trying everything, hoping

g for a miracle that doesn’t happen. If believing in God and praying could fielp, I think I’d try it. Every time I plunge into her mind. I find nothing to grasp, nothing to mend, nothing to fix. It’s an empty room with smooth wall and frigid air. Eve spent so much time in her head, searching for a way to reverse what I did, that I realize there are marks on these empty walls–marks left by a picture that had once hung there. They’re there, telling me that before, there were things filling this place: Sierra’s mind. There was color, clutter, beauty. There were memories, like photos hung on a wall–but I erased them all.

Sometimes, when it’s just the two of us here in silence in the dead of night, I wonder: is this my punishment for everything I’ve done? Is this the twisted way destiny has chosen to make me pay for my actions! Because giving me something to desire, something to fight for, and then taking it away like this–it’s cruel even for me. I know I’m partly responsible; I’m just looking for someone to share this weight with because carrying so much is drowning me. This feeling of guilt is new to me.

There’s nothing.” I finally say. “What if she remains like this forever?”

“If there’s one thing we know about magic, it’s that there’s always a way to reverse it,” Drystan responds, “no matter how extreme the form.”

“No one has ever returned from this date. No one has stopped being a Broken–and you know it.

“Only death is irreversible, and even then…”

He leaves the sentence hanging because we both know there are those who have returned from death. I want to fill myself with that hope he has, but I can’t in these moments.

“And Evanora?” I ask to change the subject. “How is she?”

I admit my relationship with the banshee isn’t the best, and I hold some resègiment for her not telling us the truth earlier, Maybe it would’ve changed something What it would change, we’ll never know. Still, I see in my friend’s eyes that she’s important to him, and I owe him at least some empathy since he’s the only one who feels it for me, I don’t forget either Elara’s laughter when she and Evanora got up to mischief together. I ignored them, let them do as they pleased, just because it made Elara happy. I wash fool then for not realizing how she was changing me—and I’m a fool now for not entirely accepting it.

“Sleeping most of the time. Her internal wounds are more severe than I thought, It’s taking her time to heal.”

“That’s good”

“I’ll speak with her when the time is right,” he says in an attempt to

reassure m me-“maybe she can help us.”

I nod, lost in my self–pity.

“Do you want me to stay for a while!” he asks.

I look again at Elara, whose lost eyes regard the ceiling. I sigh, full of resignation, and nod. It’s not that I want to leave her, but sometimes diving into her mind is too much–it reminds me of what I briefly saw and then destroyed. Drystan takes my seat and assures me repeatedly he won’t move. I leave, not tours, but to continue searching for a way to bring her back. I descend to the dungeons and walk through the cells. I pause only briefly at Ragna ́s, guarded by my men, then continue until I reach Mayka’s. She remains as I last saw her, lost in that catatonic state.

People must think I’m a monster–and they’re undoubtedly right.

Lenter the cell, though I keep some distance. I extend my power toward her and enter her mind, as deserted as I remember. It seems like an empty pantry, full of cobweb–filled nooks. I try to find something to grasp, something to connect, something to weave the web of her mind again. It’s not that I want her back–the touched something she should never have—but if I find a way with her, maybe.

I sigh, frustrated. It’s been a while and the smell of dampness has sunk deep into my nostrils. I leave, closing the cell behind me, climb back up, head to my wing of the castle. I feel eyes on me, the rest of the satiators are as afraid as they are curious

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12:26 PM ₫ d

Chapter 120

I stop in the hallway.

Do you need one of us to feed your

“Do

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