The unspoken yearnings

The prophetess's voice trembled slightly as she explained the immense difficulty of pulling a soul from the future, especially one from hundreds of years later. She sighed deeply, her frail body seeming to shrink with every word she spoke. "You have no idea how taxing it was," she continued, her tone laced with exhaustion. "The energy required... it's far beyond what we anticipated. The spell itself is forbidden, and attempting it... well, it always comes with consequences." She paused, her eyes flicking to Kael and then to Lucius. "The cost... is my energy. My life force, drained to fuel the spell. I can feel it slipping away, piece by piece."

Kael's expression hardened, and he stepped closer to Lucius, offering a silent support. Lucius, still furious, clenched his fists, the tension in his body palpable. He could barely contain his anger at the turn of events, but Kael kept his voice calm. "No one will find out. No one—no guards, maids, or servants. I will inform the generals, and we will keep this secret. We'll handle this without anyone suspecting a thing."

Lucius turned his gaze toward Kael, his jaw tight. "You don't understand, Kael," he muttered, frustration evident in his voice. "We're running out of time. The prophetess... she's spent too much energy. We can't just wait for the tool to be fixed. How will we perform the ritual?"

The question hung in the air, thick with the weight of uncertainty. The prophetess lowered her head, her wrinkled hands clasped together in her lap. She knew her powers were spent, but there was nothing more she could offer. "You'll need another source," she said softly. "Until the tool is fixed... the ritual cannot be completed."

Lucius's eyes narrowed as his mind raced. He paced the room, his thoughts a blur of possibilities. Then, an idea flickered in his mind—a spark of realization. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. "Athena's sword," he murmured, almost to himself.

Kael, sensing his shift in demeanor, turned to him. "What do you mean?"

Lucius's gaze locked onto Kael's. "Athena's sword still holds power—energy. It was forged with divine strength, a relic of great significance. We can use it as the source of energy for the ritual."

Kael's brow furrowed, considering the idea. The sword's power was undeniable. "they had seen it move earlier when she touched it," Kael cautioned. "But it might be the only option we have left."

The prophetess, still weak, nodded slowly. "It's not ideal," she admitted. "But if it's the only way to complete the ritual... then we have no choice."

Lucius stood tall, his anger replaced with determination. "We'll wait until the tool is fixed. In the meantime, we'll prepare the sword. This ritual will happen—one way or another."

.....

Kiara P.O.V

I sat on the bed, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and awe. Magic is real. I couldn't shake the thought. If magic existed, then everything I once thought was fantasy—monsters, creatures, powers—could also be real. The sheer magnitude of it was overwhelming, and my brain struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of everything I was learning. My thoughts flickered from one question to another, but none of them seemed to make any sense.

I turned my eyes toward the maid sitting quietly in the corner of the room. Maidservant Pei was doing her best to stay awake, though the exhaustion was apparent. I could see the way her eyelids drooped, the way she was fighting to keep her eyes open, trying so hard not to fall asleep so the king wouldn't come and scold her again. How long has she been awake? I wondered.

As my thoughts scattered in every direction, I finally blurted out, "What's real? If magic is real... what else is real?" My voice, though quiet, held an edge of curiosity and confusion.

She stiffened at the sound of my voice, but instead of answering, she quickly looked awaw. I could see her fighting the urge to reply, her eyelids growing heavier by the second. Stay awake, stay awake, she repeated silently to herself, focusing all her energy on not giving in to the exhaustion.

Then, there was a soft knock at the door.

"Tae," a calm, gentle voice called from the other side. "Maidservant Tae, I want to talk to my mom."

Tae jumped to her feet, her face instantly paling with panic. "Oh my god, oh my god!" she hissed under her breath. She rushed over to the door, her hand trembling as she placed it on the doorknob. Her eyes flickered toward me in alarm. "Princess Ariel is here," she whispered, her voice shaking. "She must not see you talking. Please, just lay back, pretend you're asleep. Don't move."

I blinked in surprise but quickly obeyed, not wanting to draw attention. I lay back on the bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, closing my eyes tightly, doing my best to look like I was still.

Pei, breathless with worry, hurried to open the door, her movements quick and efficient. The moment the door creaked open, she stood at attention, avoiding any unnecessary conversation, just as she had been trained.

As the maid opened the door, a little girl stepped inside. I couldn't help but notice how much this girl resembled me—a mini version of myself when I was ten years old. The likeness was striking, except this little girl wore an ancient gown, completely out of place for someone so young.

The girl walked toward me, gently taking my hand in hers. I could feel the warmth of her touch, and for a moment, it made my heart ache. She looked up at me with wide, curious eyes, her voice soft but insistent. "I heard you talking to someone. I heard someone's voice, and it wasn't yours. Was it her?"

Before I could answer, Tae quickly intervened, panic in her voice. "No, no, no, Princess Ariel," she said nervously. "It was me! I was singing a lullaby, that's all. Just a lullaby."

Princess Ariel gave a small, understanding smile, her eyes softening. "Don't worry," she reassured the maid. "Can I talk to my mom in private? I want to talk to her."

Tae, clearly flustered, quickly bowed. "Of course, Princess. I'll leave you both." She left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Once we were alone, Ariel turned back to me, her tiny hand tightening its grip. She held my hand firmly, her small face wrinkled with the weight of unspoken emotions. Tears began to gather in her eyes, slowly trickling down her cheeks. Her voice, thick with emotion, cracked as she spoke.

"I miss you," Ariel whispered. "Even though I've never met you, I miss you. I need to know… how Dad used to be."

Ariel paused, her voice trembling as the tears fell faster. "I've heard the maids talk about him. They say he wasn't always so grumpy, so hard. They say he used to smile more, he used to be kinder… before everything changed. I need to know how he used to be. Why is he so different now?"

Her small shoulders shook slightly as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking up at me with the desperation of a child trying to piece together the missing parts of a life she never knew.

"I never got to meet you," Ariel continued, her words a mixture of sadness and yearning. "But I feel like you're the only one who might know. The only one who might be able to help me understand."

My heart tightened in my chest. The little princess seemed so fragile, so vulnerable. Ariel didn't know her mother—had never known her mother. Yet here she was, holding on to the faint hope that perhaps I could fill in the gaps in her understanding of her father, of her family.