Chapter 781: Abandoned By The King?
The exodus of the Bloodburn Kingdom's survivors had led them to the towering obsidian gates of the Nightshade Kingdom, their once-proud banners now torn and tattered, their weary bodies moving like ghosts across the desolate landscape.
King Lakhur, the ruler of Nightshade, had granted them asylum, recognizing the bitter plight of a kingdom that once stood as a beacon of power now reduced to nothing but ashes.
The Nightshade Kingdom, a land draped in perpetual twilight, was a fortress in its own right, its mountainous terrain and darkened forests making it an unappealing target for the already weary and battered Draconian forces.
The paths leading into the kingdom were treacherous, narrow ridges that could barely support an army's advance without severe casualties. The draconians, fresh from their conquest, would think twice before attempting to lay siege to another formidable stronghold.
For now, the survivors of the Bloodburn Kingdom could breathe.
But breathing did not mean living.
The survivors huddled in makeshift camps within the cold embrace of Nightshade's capital, the ominous stone towers offering little solace to hearts weighed down by grief. The air was thick with sorrow, the very atmosphere an echo of loss that could not be ignored.
Here, in the shadows of unfamiliar lands, mothers clutched their children, whispering prayers for the dead, for the ones they would never see again. Fathers sat in silence, their gazes hollow, trying to make sense of the ruins of their lives.
Cries of the bereaved pierced the night-a mother wailing for the husband she had last seen fighting on the burning streets of their once-glorious capital. A young girl clutching a broken amulet, whispering the name of her fallen brother. Old warriors staring at their trembling hands, hands that once wielded swords in service of their kingdom but could no longer save those they loved.
Among them, discontent and fear festered. The whispers began to spread like poison, laced with a question that grew heavier with each passing moment.
"Where is our King?"
"Did he abandon us?"
"Why hasn't he come for us?"
"Is he dead?"
Their hope was beginning to fracture, crumbling under the weight of uncertainty.
Asher had not come even after their kingdom had fallen.
-
The atmosphere in Nightshade Castle was thick with unease. The once-proud nobles of the Bloodburn Kingdom who had sought refuge here carried the weight of despair in their hearts.
The grand halls, usually bathed in an eerie twilight glow, now felt somber, filled with the whispers of the broken, the cries of the lost.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om
Silvia and Sabina had seen war before, had seen blood spill, but nothing could prepare them for what they were witnessing now.
A group of nurses hurried through the castle doors, carrying two unconscious, bloodied figures-one with raven black hair matted with blood, the other with silver strands that had lost their luster.
Both of them were unconscious and gravely injured.
Silvia and Sabina who were lingering outside the castle saw them being carried in.
Silvia felt her heart drop into her stomach. "N-No...the queen is..." her voice trembled as her hands tightened around her wrist.
Sabina was deathly silent, her sharp red eyes locked onto the tattered form of Rowena and Isola being carried inside, their regal figures reduced to broken bodies.
She was holding a grudge against Rowena for not telling them where Asher was. However, seeing her this close to death after trying to protect them made her heart clench. She always seemed so strong and indomitable. And so seeing her like this was not a sight she could process. In the end, she lost the most.
Merina was following those who were carrying in Rowena and Isola, her face twisted with deep concern, walking with hurried steps.
However, upon spotting Sabina and Silvia, she turned towards them, her dark blue eyes filled with concern,
"Your Highnesses, please follow me," She urged them.
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