CHAPTER 265: CHAPTER 261 – A SLEEP THAT BRINGS NO PEACE

The air in the room was still but cold.

Twilight light slipped through thick, dark-purple curtains, tracing faint patterns across the glossy black stone floor.

From the large window on the right side of the chamber, one could see ever-gloomy sky gray clouds laced with violet covering the horizon like scars on a world yet to heal.

The bed at the center of the room was carved from obsidian, draped in a sheet of smooth black silk.

Upon it lay Sylvia, motionless.

Her black gown had been replaced with something simple, thin, soft fabric that wrapped around her pale body.

Her long hair fanned across the pillow, a few strands spilling over to the floor.

Silence.

Only the faint ticking of a magic clock on the wall broke the quiet, glowing dimly blue.

And within that stillness Sylvia’s eyelids trembled.

A faint red light pulsed behind her lashes, slow and rhythmic.

The air around her quivered; a thin floating chain hanging in the air gave a soft chime. Then Sylvia opened her eyes.

She stared blankly at the stone ceiling, her gaze hazy as though a mist clouded her memories.

She tried to move her fingers, but her body resisted. It felt as if her bones had turned to cold iron, every movement unbearably heavy.

A few seconds passed before her thoughts cleared.

She blinked slowly and looked around. This room...

Her private chamber in the castle. The tall ceiling is carved with twisting chains, the black bookshelf to her right, and on the other side, a vase of fading purple flowers.

Everything looked familiar yet distant, like a place she had left behind for a thousand years.

"...I’m back," she whispered faintly. Her voice was almost nothing, like a lost breath.

She tried to sit up, but her body refused.

Her muscles trembled, her vision spun.

Her body was weak not just from exhaustion, but from the emptiness of the mana within her.

The power that had once made her both feared and alive was now but a faint ember, flickering weakly at the edge of her being.

She bit her lip.

"Foolish..." she muttered softly, her tone filled with bitter self-awareness.

"You should’ve stopped before you fell..."

Yet as those words escaped her lips, something warm stirred within her chest whether it was the lingering energy of Persephone, or something deeper, she couldn’t tell.

Her empty gaze lifted toward the ceiling again.

The battlefield still danced behind her eyelids: fallen bodies, blood, screams, and violet fire consuming the world.

"Celes... Aurellia... Alicia... Stacia..."

The names left her lips one by one, like a spell.

She stared at her trembling hand.

"Are you all safe?"

The door creaked open softly.

Footsteps entered carefully, measured, but they couldn’t fool Sylvia’s hearing. She turned her head slightly.

Celes stood at the doorway.

Her silver hair was loosely tied, her face pale but resolute. She carried a stack of documents in one hand but immediately set them down when she saw Sylvia’s open eyes.

"Sylvia...!"

Sylvia blinked slowly. "Celes..."

Her voice was hoarse, yet it was enough to make Celes straighten in relief. In a heartbeat, Celes was by her side, kneeling beside the bed, her expression caught between relief and worry.

"You’re finally awake. Three days you’ve been asleep for three whole days."

"...Three days?" Sylvia murmured weakly. "I thought... only for a moment."

Celes shook her head. "Your body nearly stopped. We thought you wouldn’t wake up. But... something kept you alive. Your heart never stopped slow, but steady."

Sylvia was silent for a moment, gazing toward the window. The twilight sky looked almost alive, like a shadow breathing.

"It feels... as if I’ve slept for ages," she said softly. "What about the battlefield?"

Celes lowered her head. "We won. The gate to the underworld is completely sealed."

She paused before adding quietly, "But many were lost. Even after you... revived them, not everyone could be saved."

Silence fell between them.

Sylvia stared at her trembling fingers. She knew. She had always known. Not all could be brought back. The world had its limits.

"Velthya?" she asked at last.

Celes nodded. "Still alive. Her wounds healed because of your magic. But... she hasn’t fully recovered yet."

Sylvia closed her eyes for a moment. "Thank goodness."

Celes studied her queen’s face. Something about Sylvia was different. Her complexion was pale as ever, but her expression was softer and more human. The aura of death around her had lessened, not gone, but tamed, gentler... calmer.

"Sylvia," Celes said softly, "you don’t have to think about everything right now. Let us handle things. You should rest."

Sylvia looked at her, a faint smile touching her lips.

"If I fall asleep again, the world might crumble overnight. You know that."

Celes sighed deeply. "Even so, your body isn’t made of stone. You’ll die if you keep pushing yourself."

Her tone was sharper than usual, yet beneath it lay genuine worry.

Sylvia met her gaze and gave a small laugh, weak, but sincere.

"You’ve always been like that... ever since the beginning."

Celes lowered her head slightly, guilt flickering across her face. "I just... I don’t want to lose you. If something happens to you, I don’t know how I could ever face Sofia."

They fell into silence again. Only the ticking of the magic clock filled the room.

Outside, the wind carried the scent of rain and mist from forests.

After a long pause, Sylvia spoke.

"Tell me what happened after I collapsed."

Celes hesitated, then sat in the chair beside the bed.

"All right. But promise me you won’t overexert yourself listening."

Sylvia gave a faint nod.

And so, Celes began recounting everything how they buried those who couldn’t be saved, how the dark races worked together to strengthen their defenses, how Alicia and Stacia stayed at the magic tower for two whole days to stabilize the portal and ensure it wouldn’t reopen.

Sylvia listened quietly. Every word was a soft knife that pierced her heart. She felt proud... yet guilty.

When Celes finished, Sylvia closed her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered. "You’ve done so much."

Celes shook her head. "It’s all because of you, my Queen."

Sylvia smiled faintly. "No, Celes. Because of all of you."

She turned her gaze once more to the window. Outside, the sky slowly gave way to night. Stars shimmered faintly behind the violet haze.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Sylvia sensed no looming threat...

...but she couldn’t feel peace either.

Because deep within her heart, something whispered softly:

This war isn’t over.

She looked at the chain around her wrist cracked and faintly glowing. The same chain that had once given her strength... now felt like an unshakable weight.

Sylvia drew a long breath.

And with a voice barely audible, she murmured,

"Goddess Persephone... is this what you meant by living again?"

There was no reply. Only the whisper of the wind outside, as if the world itself chose silence.

.....

Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, falling gently upon Sylvia’s pale face.

Its glow shimmered faintly in her still-open eyes, eyes staring blankly at the misty night sky.

She couldn’t sleep, no matter how exhausted her body was.

The air was cold, but not biting. Silent, but not peaceful. The stillness felt like an empty space inside her chest, endless, hollow.

Celes had left some time ago after making sure her Queen could rest. Yet even with the door closed, Sylvia could still hear her footsteps in the corridor, the soft movements of undead guards, and far below, the steady hum of magic pulsing through the tower.

Still breathed.

And yet... something was missing. Something she couldn’t name.

She raised her hand slowly. Under the moonlight, her skin looked nearly translucent.

The scars from battle had vanished, but every inch of her body still carried echoes of that pain as if the world refused to forget.

"Phantom Bloom..." she whispered, staring at her trembling palm.

Once, that power had been her weapon.

Now, after evolving into a force of healing and resurrection, she finally understood the price it demanded.

Her soul was being worn away, little by little. And though she had risen as the Queen of Death, even death had its limits.

She closed her eyes.

Faintly, she heard a voice the same voice she had heard before she fainted.

"Rest, my daughter..."

The voice of the Goddess Persephone soft, distant, but unmistakably real.

Sylvia opened her eyes again, her breath unsteady.

"Goddess... are you still watching over me?"

No answer, of course.

But the wind drifting through the window seemed to respond in a language only her soul could understand.

Slowly, Sylvia turned her gaze toward the bedside table. Upon it sat a small black flower that had not yet wilted.

That flower... hadn’t been there before. Its petals were dark violet, faintly glowing the kind found only in Persephone’s domain, the underworld.

Sylvia stared at it for a long time.

"So you truly crossed over... just to save me," she whispered.

Something inside her chest tightened not pain, not magic but a strange warmth.

She closed her eyes briefly, leaning back against the pillow.

The faces of Celes, Aurellia, Alicia, Stacia, and Velthya drifted through her mind one by one.

She smiled weakly.

"It’s strange... being called a Queen, yet saved by my own people," she murmured, almost jokingly.

The small chain floating in the air chimed in response to a soft, delicate sound like laughter only she could hear.

Then, slowly, her eyelids closed again.

Just sleep.

Outside the window, the moon hid behind the violet mist.

The black flower on the table trembled faintly, glowing softly before withering away its petals turning to dust and dissolving into the air.

And in that sleep, Sylvia smiled faintly. Not peaceful, but calm.

As if, though the world still turned under threat, tonight at least granted her one thing she hadn’t known since becoming a Queen.

A moment of true rest.